to return home, and after a time succeeded in making her understand
this to be the best course.

"O my dear Dora," said the poor weary child, as she found herself once
more in her own room at home, with the good woman at her side, "I am so
glad--_so_ glad to see you. And now I want you to stay with me, and
talk as you used to when I was a little child. O, it makes me miserable
to think how my heart wandered away from you, and from the Saviour,
Dora; for I used to feel when a little girl that he loved me."

"And he loves you still, dearest," replied the old lady, her heart
swelling with gratitude to God. "He loves you, Emma, and will receive
you freely, dear, without one word of reproach, if you will only come
back."

"I think so," said Emma, while the tears ran freely down her pale
cheeks. "I did not spend those long dreadful nights, Dora, without
thinking of him; and though ashamed of myself, I ventured to ask him,
over and over again, to pity my wretchedness, and love me still. One
night--it was not long ago--he seemed to come to me, and say the very
same things which you have just said,--that he would not cast me off;
that he loved me, even then."

What a moment of joy to the faithful Christian, who had sowed in hope,
but whose faith had been so severely tried.

The tranquillity of mind which followed Emma's return home, operated
favorably upon her health, and in a few weeks she was able to mingle
with the family as formerly. Her mother did not propose her going
abroad for company; but Emma seemed to take pleasure in being one of