on?" he asked,
raising her gently, and drawing her to his side.

"Dear papa, you know I cannot," she sobbed.

"Then return at once to your room; my sentence must be enforced, though
it break both your heart and mine, for I _will_ be obeyed. _Go_!" he
said, sternly putting her from him. And weeping and sobbing, feeling like
a homeless, friendless outcast from society, Elsie went back to her room.

The next two or three weeks were very sad and dreary ones to the poor
little girl. Her father's sentence was rigidly enforced; she scarcely
ever saw him excepting at a distance, and when once or twice he passed
her in going in and out, he neither looked at nor spoke to her. Miss Day
treated her with all her former severity and injustice, and no one else
but the servants ever addressed her.

She went out every day for an hour or two, in obedience to her father's
command, but her walks and rides were sad and lonely; and during the rest
of the day she felt like a prisoner, for she dared not venture even into
the garden, where she had always been in the habit of passing the greater
part of her leisure hours, in the summer season.

But debarred from all other pleasures, Elsie read her Bible more and more
constantly, and with ever increasing delight; it was more than meat and
drink to her; she there found consolation under every affliction, a
solace for every sorrow. Her trial was a heavy one; her little heart
often ached sadly with its intense longing for an earthly father's love
and favor; yet in the midst of it all, she was conscious of a deep,
abiding peace, flowing from a sweet sense of pardoned sin, and a
consciousness of a Saviour's love.

At first Elsie greatly feared that she would not be allowed to attend
church, as usual, on the Sabbath. But Mr. Dinsmore did not care to excite
too much remark, and so, as Elsie had always been very regular in her
attendance, to her great joy she was still permitted to go.

No one spoke to her, however, or seemed to take the least notice of her;
but she sat by her father's side, as usual, both in the carriage and in
the pew, and there was some pleasure even in that, though she scarcely
dared even to lift her eyes to his face. Once during the sermon, on the
third Sabbath after their last interview, she ventured to do so, and was
so overcome by the sight of his pale, haggard looks, that utterly unable
to control her emotion, she burst into tears, and almost sobbed aloud.

"Elsie," he s