Elsie entered the drawing-room one morning, with the little daughter in
her arms. The child was beautiful as a cherub, the mother sweet and fair
as ever, nor a day older in appearance than while yet a girl in her
father's house.
She found him sole occupant of the room, pacing to and fro with downcast
eyes and troubled countenance. But looking up quickly at the sound of her
footsteps he came hastily towards her.
"Come to grandpa," he said, holding out his hands to the little one; then
as he took her in his arms, "My dear daughter, if I had any authority over
you now----"
"Papa," she interrupted, blushing deeply, while the quick tears sprang to
her eyes, "you hurt me! Please don't speak so. I am as ready now as ever
to obey your slightest behest."
"Then, my darling, don't carry this child. You are not strong, and I fear
will do yourself an injury. She can walk very well now, and if necessary
to have her carried, call upon me, her father, or one of the servants;
Aunt Chloe, Uncle Joe, Dinah, one or another is almost sure to be at
hand."
"I will try to follow out your wishes, papa. Edward has said the same
thing to me, and no doubt you are right; but it is so sweet to have her in
my arms, and so hard to refuse when she asks to be taken up.
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