and groaning, and speechless with pain.

"What's de matter darlin'?" she asked; but Elsie only answered with a
moan; and Fanny, in great alarm, hastened to Mr. Dinsmore's room, and
startled him with the exclamation: "Oh, Massa Horace, make haste for come
to de chile! she gwine die for sartain, if you don't do sumfin mighty
quick!"

"Why, what ails her, Fanny?" he asked, following the servant with all
speed.

"Dunno, Massa; but I'se sure she's berry ill," was Fanny's reply, as she
opened the door of Elsie's room, and stepped back to allow her master to
pass in first.

One glance at Elsie's face was enough to convince him that there was some
ground for her attendant's alarm. It was ghastly with its deadly pallor
and the dark circles round the eyes, and wore an expression of intense
pain.

He proceeded at once to apply remedies, and remained beside her until
they had so far taken effect that she was able to speak, and looked quite
like herself again.

"Elsie!" he said in a grave, firm tone, as he placed her more comfortably
on her pillow, "this attack has been brought on by violent crying; you
must not indulge yourself in that way again."

"I could not help it, papa," she replied, lifting her pleading eyes to
his face.

"You _must_ help it in future, Elsie," he said sternly.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she struggled to keep them back.

He turned to leave her, but she caught his hand, and looked so
beseechingly in his face, that he stopped and asked in a softened
tone, "What is it, my daughter?"

"Oh, papa!" she murmured in low, tremulous accents, "love me a little."

"I do love you, Elsie," he replied gravely, and almost sadly, as he bent
over her and laid his hand upon her forehead. "I love you only too well,
else I should have sent my stubborn little daughter away from me long ere
this."

"Then, papa, kiss me; just _once_, dear papa!" she pleaded, raising her
tearful eyes to his face.

"No, Elsie, not _once_ until you are entirely submissive. This state
of things is as painful to me as it into you, my daughter; but I cannot
yield my authority, and I hope you will soon see that it is best for
you to give up your self-will."

So saying, he turned away and left her alone; alone with that weary
home-sickness of the heart, and the tears dropping silently down upon
her pillow.

Horace Dinsmore went back to his own room, where he spent the next half
hour in pacing rapidly to and fro, with folded arms an