Isaiah?"

"If you wish it, dearest; but I think something lively would be much
better; more likely to cheer you up."

"No, dear papa; there is nothing cheers me up like the Bible, it is so
sweet and comforting. I do so love to hear of Jesus, how he bore our
griefs and carried our sorrows."

"You are a strange child," he said, "but you shall have whatever you want
to-night. Hand me that Bible, Aunt Chloe, and set the light a little
nearer."

Mr. Dinsmore was an uncommonly fine reader, and Elsie lay listening to
that beautiful passage of Holy Writ, as one might listen to strains of
the softest, sweetest music.

"Now, dear papa, the twenty-third of Luke, if you please," she said, when
he had finished.

He turned to it, and read it without any remark.

As he closed the book and laid it aside, he saw that tears were trembling
on the long, silken lashes that rested on the fair young cheek; for her
eyes were closed, and but for those tell-tale drops he would have thought
her sleeping.

"I feared it would make you sad, darling," he said, brushing them away,
and kissing her fondly.