“Oh, it is dreadful, to think my dear father can’t trust me!” she sobbed, in conclusion; “but you see he was not severe with me, Mr. Travilla. If he had given me a hard whipping beside, it wouldn’t have been any more than I deserved.”
“A delicate, dear little girl like you!” he exclaimed. “I should never have respected him again if he had.” But the last words were spoken so low and indistinctly that Elsie did not catch them.
“A very bad, disobedient little girl, Mr. Travilla,” she sighed. “Oh, I couldn’t have believed I ever would disobey papa so!”
“Do you know,” he said gently, “your remorse seems to me altogether out of proportion to the offence—just reading a little in a forbidden book. Why as a boy I was often guilty of far worse deeds, yet thought myself rather a good sort of fellow after all.”
Elsie understood this remark as merely an effort to comfort her by making light of her wrong-doing, and answered it with a grateful look.
“Now, my dear, I wouldn’t fret about it any more,” he said, smoothing her hair with gentle, caressing hand. “I feel sure your papa will soon trust you as fully as ever. I should at this moment trust you to any extent; and I assure you I think you the best little girl I ever knew.”
Elsie looked up in incredulous surprise. “You are very, very kind, sir! but papa does not think so: he knows me better.” And another tear rolled quickly down her cheek.
“I hope,” Mr. Travilla said, meditatively, “he won’t think it necessary to deny you the promised visit to Ion, because of this.”
“I did not know about that,” she returned, half inquiringly. “I thought our holidays were to be over as soon as Annis comes back.”
“Yes, but we had arranged that you were to bring you books with you, spend the mornings at your tasks, and enjoy, for the rest of the day, whatever pleasures my mother and I might be able to provide. I think we could make it pleasant for you.”