Holidays at Roselands | Page 5

papa; sometimes there are hard places--at least pretty hard
for a little girl like me--though I think Miss Rose tries to write plainly
because she knows that I cannot read writing as well as big people
can."
She was eagerly tearing off the envelope while she answered him, and
then settling herself comfortably she began to read.
He watched with deep interest the varying expression of her fine open
countenance as she read. Once or twice she asked him to tell her a word,
but the most of it she got through without any difficulty.
At last she had finished.
"It is such a nice letter, papa," she said as she folded it up, "and so good
of Miss Rose to write to me again so soon."
"Are you not going to let me enjoy it, too?" he asked.
She put it into his hand instantly, saying, with a blush, "I did not know
you would care to read it, papa."
"I am interested in all that gives either pleasure or pain to my little
girl," he answered gently. "I wish to be a sharer in all her joys and
sorrows."
Elsie watched him while he read, almost as intently as he had watched
her; for she was anxious that he should be pleased with Miss Rose's
letter.
It was a cheerful, pleasant letter, well suited to interest a child of Elsie's
years; giving an account of home scenes; telling of her little brothers
and sisters, their love for each other; the little gifts they had prepared in
anticipation of Christmas, etc., etc.

At the close she made some allusion to Elsie's letters, and expressed her
heartfelt sympathy in her little friend's happiness.
"I am so glad, my darling," she wrote, "that your father now loves you
so dearly, and that you are so happy in his love. My heart ached for you
in the bitter disappointment of your first meeting with him. It is true
you never said that you were disappointed, but there was a tone of deep
sadness in your dear little letter, the cause of which I--who knew so
well how you had looked and longed for his return, and how your little
heart yearned for his affection--could not fail to guess. But, dear child,
while you thus rejoice in an earthly father's love, do not forget that you
have a Father in Heaven, who claims the first place in your heart; and
who is the giver of every good gift, not even excepting the precious
love that now makes your young life so bright and happy. Keep close to
Jesus, dear Elsie: His is the only truly satisfying love--the only one we
can be certain will never fail us."
"Is it not a nice letter, papa?" asked the little girl, as he refolded and
gave it to her again.
"Very nice, daughter," he answered, in an absent way. He looked very
grave, and Elsie studied his countenance intently while, for some
moments, he sat with his eyes bent thoughtfully upon the carpet. She
feared that something in the letter had displeased him. But presently he
looked at her with his usual affectionate smile, and laying his hand
caressingly on her head, said, "Miss Allison seems to warn you not to
trust too much to the permanence of my affection; but you need not fear
that you will ever lose it, unless, indeed, you cease to be deserving of it.
No, nor even then," he added, drawing her closer to him, "for even
should you grow very naughty and troublesome, you would still be
_my child_--a part of myself and of my lost Elsie, and therefore very
dear to me."
"Ah! papa, how could I ever bear to lose your love? I think I should
die," she said, dropping her head on his breast, with almost a sob. "Oh!
if I am ever very, very naughty, papa, punish me as severely as you will;
but oh, never, never quit loving me."

"Set your heart at rest, my darling," he said, tenderly, "there is no
danger of such a thing. I could not do it, if I wished."
Ah! there came a time when Elsie had sore need of all the comfort the
memory of those words could give.
"What are you going to wear to Isabel Carleton's party, to-night, Elsie?"
asked Lucy, at the dinner table.
"Nothing," replied Elsie, with an arch smile, "I am not going, Lucy,"
she added.
"Not going! well, now, that is too bad," cried Lucy, indignantly. "I
think it's really mean of your papa; he never lets you go anywhere."
"Oh, Lucy! he let me go to town with Carry the other day; he has let me
stay up late two or three nights since you came; he is going to let me