“I tried to smile and make light of the things we had heard, by looks rather than speech, and all the time she was perusing my soul with her wild eyes.
“‘You did not believe it,’ she cried, with a hysterical laugh, ‘I knew it—I was sure of it. But, father, mother, he has turned me out-of-doors.’
“‘My child,’ cried the mother, giving way to tenderness. ‘But you are home, you are with us, your own mother, your dear old father.’
“‘I know,’ said Elsie, ‘I thought of that when they turned me out-of-doors. I will return, said I, to my father’s house, a prodigal, but without his sin. Father, believe that; you surely believe that, mother.’
“‘My child, my own child,’ answered the mother.
“‘I know that you believe me,’ she said, and a faint smile stole across her lip.
“The mother caressed her, smoothing back the black hair from her temples, as if she had been a child.
“‘Tell us, daughter, tell us all,’ she whispered, tenderly.
“Elsie started up. Fire sparkled through the tears in her eyes. But quickly as it had kindled, the angry light went out; and sinking to her mother’s bosom, she answered, amid her sobs,—
“‘Mother, they have denounced me, they have covered me with scorn.’