We loved one another very dearly then, each was all the other had, and I think our mutual love has never been less because of the other many tender ties God has given us since." "I am sure you are right, daughter, but at that time," he added with a smile, "you were not willing to share your father's love with another; at least with one other whom you suspected of trying to win it.

Do you remember how you slipped away to your bed without bidding your papa good-night, and cried yourself to sleep ?" "Yes, foolish child that I was!" she said, with a low musical laugh; "and how you surprised me the next morning by your knowledge of my fears, and then set them all at rest, like the dear, kind father that you were and always have been." "No, not always," he sighed.
"Yes, papa, always," she said with playful tenderness.

"I will insist upon that; because even when most severe with me, you did what at the time you deemed your duty, and believed to be for my good." "Yes, that is true, my dear, forgiving child! and yet I can never think of the suffering you endured during the summer that succeeded the Christmas we have been talking of, without keen remorse." "Yet, long before the next Christmas came I was happier than ever," she said, looking up into his face with a smile full of filial love.

"It was the first in our own dear home at the Oaks, you remember, papa.

You gave me a lovely set of pearls--necklace and bracelets--and this," taking up a pearl ring, "was Edward's gift.