—BRYANT.
Elsie submitted without a murmur to her father's requirements and restrictions; but though there was nothing else to remind her that she had been for one sad day in disgrace with him—his manner toward her having again all the old tender fondness—she did not fully recover her spirits, but, spite of her struggles to be cheerful and hopeful, seemed often depressed, and grew pale and thin day by day.
Her father noticed it with deep concern and anxiety. "Something must be done," he said one day to his wife; "the child is drooping strangely, and I fear will lose her health. I must try what change will do for her. What do you say to a year in Europe?"
"For all of us?"
"Yes, for you and me and our two children."
"It might be very pleasant, and Elsie has never been."
"No; I have always meant to take her, but found home so enjoyable that
I have put it off from year to year."
Elsie entered the room as he spoke.
"Come here, daughter," he said, making room for her on the sofa by his side. "I was just saying to mamma that I think of taking you all to Europe for a year. How should you like that?"
"Oh, very much, papa!" she answered, looking up brightly; "I should so enjoy seeing all the places you have told me of,—all the scenes of your adventures when you travelled there before."