"A hat trimmed in that style would be becoming to Elsie," remarked Adelaide, continuing the conversation with Rose, and turning to look at her niece as she spoke. "Why, she's not here."
"Papa took her away to make her lie down," said little Horace.
"Rose, does anything ail the child?" asked Adelaide, in an undertone.
"She does not seem to be out of health; but you know we are very careful of her; she is so dear and sweet, and has never looked very strong."
"But there is something wrong with her, is there not? she does not seem to me quite the gay, careless child she was when you went away. Horace," and she turned to him, as he re-entered the room, "may I not know about Elsie? You can hardly love her very much better than I do, I think."
"If that is so, you must love her very much indeed," he answered with a faint smile. "Yes, I will tell you." And he explained the matter; briefly at first, then more in detail, as she drew him on by questions and remarks.
Her sympathy for Elsie was deep and sincere; yet she thought her brother's course the only wise and kind one, and her indignation waxed hot against Arthur and Egerton.
"And Elsie still believes in the scoundrel?" she said inquiringly.
"Yes, her loving, trustful nature refuses to credit the proofs of his guilt, and only her sweet, conscientious submission to parental authority has saved her from becoming his victim."
"She is a very good, submissive, obedient child to you, Horace."