So the little girl sat down and tried to drown her impatience in the pages of a new book—one of her Christmas presents. But Chloe presently stole softly behind her chair, and, holding up high above her head some glittering object attached to a pretty gold chain, let it gradually descend until it rested upon the open book.
Elsie started and jumped up with an exclamation of surprise.
"Wonder if you knows dat gen'leman, darlin'?" laughed Chloe.
"Oh! it is papa," cried the little girl, catching it in her hand, "my own dear, darling papa! oh! how good of him to give it to me!" and she danced about the room in her delight. "It is just himself, so exactly like him! Isn't it a good likeness, mammy?" she asked, drawing near the light to examine it more closely. "Dear, dear, darling papa!" and she kissed it again and again.
Then gently drawing her mother's miniature from her bosom, she laid them side by side.
"My papa and mamma; are they not beautiful, mammy? both of them?" she asked, raising her swimming eyes to the dusky face leaning over her, and gazing with such mournful fondness at the sweet girlish countenance, so life-like and beautiful, yet calling up thoughts of sorrow and bereavement.
"My darling young missus!" murmured the old nurse, "my own precious chile dat dese arms hab carried so many years, dis ole heart like to break when-eber I tinks ob you, an' 'members how your bright young face done gone away foreber."
The big tears were rolling fast down the sable cheeks, and dropping like rain on Elsie's curls, while the broad bosom heaved with sobs. "But your ole mammy's been good to your little chile dat you lef' behind, darlin','deed she has," she went on.
"Yes, mammy, indeed, indeed you have," Elsie said, twining her arms lovingly around her. "But don't let us cry any more, for we know that dear mamma is very happy in heaven, and does not wish us to grieve for her now. I shall not show you the picture any more if it makes you cry like that," she added half playfully.
"Not always, chile," Chloe said, wiping away her tears, "but jes dis here mornin'—Christmas mornin', when she was always so bright and merry. It seems only yesterday she went dancin' about jes like you."
"Yes, mammy dear, but she is with the angels now—my sweet, pretty mamma!" Elsie whispered softly, with another tender, loving look at the picture ere she returned it to its accustomed resting-place in her bosom.
"And now I must go to papa," she said more cheerfully, "for it is almost breakfast time."
"Is my darling satisfied now?" he asked, as she ran into his arms and was folded in a close embrace.
"Yes, papa, indeed I am; thank you a thousand times; it is all I wanted."
"And you have given me the most acceptable present you could have found. It is a most excellent likeness, and I am delighted with it."
"I am so glad, papa, but it was Aunt Adelaide who thought of it."
"Ah! that was very kind of her. But how does my little girl feel this morning, after all her dissipation?"
"Oh! very well, thank you, papa."
"You will not want to say any lesson to-day, I suppose?"
"Oh! yes, if you please, papa, and it does not give you too much trouble," she said. "It is the very pleasantest hour in the day, except—"
"Well, except what? Ah, yes, I understand. Well, my pet, it shall be as you wish; but come to me directly after breakfast, as I am going out early."
Elsie had had her hour with her father, but, though he had left her and gone out, she still lingered in his dressing-room, looking over the next day's lesson. At length, however, she closed the book and left the room, intending to seek her young guests, who were in the lower part of the house.
Miss Stevens' door was open as she passed, and that lady called to her, "Elsie, dear, you sweet little creature, come here, and see what I have for you."
Elsie obeyed, though rather reluctantly, and Miss Stevens bidding her sit down, went to a drawer, and took out a large paper of mixed candy, all of the best and most expensive kinds, which she put into the little girl's hands with one of her sweetest smiles.
It was a strong temptation to a child who had a great fondness for such things, but Elsie had prayed from her heart that morning for strength to resist temptation, and it was given her.
"Thank you, ma'am, you are very kind," she said gratefully, "but I cannot take it, because papa does not approve of my eating such things. He gave me a little this morning, but said I must not have any more for a long time."
"Now, that is quite too bad," exclaimed Miss Stevens, "but at least take one or two, child; that much couldn't possibly hurt you, and your papa need never know."
Elsie gave her a look of grieved surprise.
"Oh! could you think I would do that?" she said. "But God would know, Miss Stevens; and I should know it myself, and how could I ever look my papa in the face again after deceiving him so?"
"Really, my dear, you are making a very serious matter of a mere trifle," laughed the lady; "why, I have deceived my father more than fifty times, and never thought it any harm. But here is something I am sure you can take, and indeed you must, for I bought both it and the candy expressly for you."
She replaced the candy in the drawer as she spoke, and took from another a splendidly-bound book which she laid in Elsie's lap, saying, with a triumphant air, "There, my dear, what do you think of that? is it not handsome?"
Elsie's eyes sparkled; books were her greatest treasures; but feeling an instinctive repugnance to taking a gift from one whom she could neither respect nor love, she made an effort to decline it, though at the same time thanking the lady warmly for her kind intentions.
But Miss Stevens would hear of no refusal, and fairly forced it upon her acceptance, declaring that, as she had bought it expressly for her, she should feel extremely hurt if she did not take it.
"Then I will, Miss Stevens," said the little girl, "and I am sure you are very kind. I love books and pictures, too, and these are lovely engravings," she added turning over the leaves with undisguised pleasure.
"Yes, and the stories are right pretty, too," remarked Miss Stevens.
"Yes, ma'am, they look as if they were, and I should like dearly to read them."
"Well, dear, just sit down and read; there's nothing to hinder. I'm sure your little friends can do without you for an hour or two. Or, if you prefer it, take the book and enjoy it with them; it is your own, you know, to use as you like."
"Thank you, ma'am; but, though I can look at the pictures, I must not read the stories until I have asked papa, because he does not allow me to read anything now without first showing it to him."
"Dear me! how very strict he is!" exclaimed Miss Stevens.
"I wonder," she thought to herself, "if he would expect to domineer over his wife in that style?"
Elsie was slowly turning over the leaves of the book, enjoying the pictures very much, studying them intently, but resolutely refraining from even glancing over the printed pages. But at length she closed it, and, looking out of the window, said, with a slight sigh, "Oh! I wish papa would come; but I'm afraid he won't for a long while, and I do so want to read these stories."
"Suppose you let me read one to you," suggested Miss Stevens; "that would not be your reading it, you know."
Elsie looked shocked at the proposal. "Oh! no, ma'am, thank you, I know you mean to be kind; but I could not do it; it would be so very wrong; quite the same, I am sure, as if I read it with my own eyes," she answered hurriedly; and then, fearing to be tempted further, she excused herself and went in search of her young companions.
She found them in the drawing-room.
"Wasn't it too provoking, Elsie, that those