ening ever failed to find her in her closet; she had
neglected none of the forms of religion, and her devotions had been far
from heartless; yet she discovered with pain that she had of late spent
less time, and found less of her enjoyment in these duties than formerly;
that she had been, too much engrossed by an earthly love, and needed this
trial to bring her nearer to her Saviour, and teach her again to seek all
her happiness in "looking unto him." And now the hours that she had been
wont to pass in her father's society were usually spent in her own room,
alone with her Bible and her God, and there she found that sweet peace
and joy which the world can neither give nor take away; and thus she
gathered strength to bear her troubles and crosses with heavenly meekness
and patience; and she had indeed great need of a strength not her own,
for every day, and almost every hour brought with it its own peculiar
trial.

No one but the servants--who still loved her dearly--treated her with
kindness; but coldness and neglect were the least she had to bear. She
was constantly reminded, even by Walter and Enna, that she was stubborn
and disobedient, and there was so little pleasure in her walks and rides,
either when taken alone or in company with them, that she gradually gave
them up almost entirely--until one day, her father's attention being
called to it, by a remark of Mrs. Dinsmore's, "that it was no wonder the
child was growing thin and pale, for she did not take exercise enough to
keep her in health," he called her to him, reprimanded her severely, and
laid his commands upon her "to take a walk and ride every day, when the
weather would at all permit, but never dare to go alone farther than into
the garden."

Elsie answered with meek submission, promising obedience; and then turned
quickly away to hide the emotion that was swelling in her breast.

The change in her father was the bitterest part of her trial; she had so
revelled in his affection, and now it seemed to be all withdrawn from
her; and from the fond, indulgent parent, Mr. Dinsmore seemed suddenly to
have changed to the cold, pitiless tyrant. He now seldom took any notice
of his little daughter, and never addressed her unless it were to utter
a rebuke, a threat, a prohibition, or command, in tones of harshness and
severity.

Elsie bore it with all the meekness and patience of a martyr, but ere
long her health began to suffer; she grew weak and nervous, and wou