CHAPTER THIRD.
"So fair that had you beauty's picture took,
It must like her, or not like beauty look."
--ALLEYN'S HENRY VII.
Elsie paused at the half-open door of her father's private room.
Mr. Dinsmore, like most men, was fond of light and air; through the wide
open windows the morning breeze stole softly in, laden with sweets from
garden and lawn, and the rich carpet of oak and green was flecked with
gold where the sunbeams came shimmering down between the fluttering leaves
of a beautiful vine that had festooned itself about the one looking to the
east.
Mr. Dinsmore was seated at his desk with a pile of papers before
him--legal documents in appearance; he would open one, glance over its
contents, lay it aside, and take up another only to treat it in like
manner.
Elsie stood but a moment watching him with loving, admiring eyes, then
gliding noiselessly across the floor, dropped gracefully at his feet and
laying her folded hands upon his knee looked up into his face with an
arch, sweet smile.
"Mon pere, I have come for my lecture, or whatever you have laid up in
store for me," she announced with mock gravity and a slight tremble of
pretended fear in her voice.
Dropping the paper he held, and passing one hand caressingly over her
shining hair, "My darling, how very, very lovely you are!" he said, the
words bursting spontaneously from his lips; "there is no flaw in your
beauty, and your face beams with happiness.
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