She was shocked at Arthur's wickedness, troubled and anxious about his
future, but freely forgave his crime against her pony and herself,
and mingled with her nightly petitions an earnest prayer for his
conversion, and his welfare temporal and spiritual.




CHAPTER VI.

O love! thou sternly dost thy power maintain,
And wilt not bear a rival in thy reign.

--DRYDEN.


It was the middle of the forenoon, and Elsie in her own pretty little
sitting room was busied with her books; so deep in study indeed, that
she never noticed a slight girlish figure as it glided in at the glass
doors opening upon the lawn, to-day set wide to admit the air coming
fresh and cool with a faint odor of the far-off sea, pleasantly
mingling with that of the flowers in the garden, on the other side of
the house.

"Buried alive in her books! Dear me! what a perfect paragon of
industry you are," cried the intruder in a lively tone. "I wish you
would imbue me with some of your love of study."

"Why, Lucy Carrington! how did you get here?" and Elsie pushed her
books away, rose hastily and greeted her friend with an affectionate