"Oh! I remember," she moaned, an expression of keen distress coming over her face; "papa—"
"Hush! hush! not a word more; we will let the past go," he said, kissing her lips. "I shall carry you to your room now, and see you put to bed."
He held her on his knee, her head resting on his shoulder, while Chloe prepared her for rest.
"Are you hungry, daughter?" he asked.
"No, papa; I only want to go to sleep."
"There, Aunt Chloe, that will do," he said, as the old nurse tied on the child's night-cap; and raising her again in his arms, he carried her to the bed and was about to place her on it.
"Oh papa! my prayers first, you know," she cried eagerly.
"Never mind them to-night," said he, "you are not able."
"Please let me, dear papa," she pleaded; "I cannot go to sleep without."
Yielding to her entreaties, he placed her on her knees, and stood beside her, listening to her murmured petitions, in which he more than once heard his own name coupled with a request that he might be made to love Jesus.