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Elsie's children eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 207 pages of information about Elsie's children.

“So you consider me a fool,” said Mrs. Conly, bridling, “thanks for the compliment.”

“It is you who make the application, Louise,” he answered.  “I had no thought of doing so, and still hope you will prove your wisdom by reconsidering and letting Mrs. Delaford know that you revoke your decision.”

“Indeed I shall not; I consider that I have no right to throw away Isadore’s fortune.”

“Have you then a greater right to imperil her soul’s salvation?” he asked with solemn earnestness.

“Pshaw! what a serious thing you make of it,” she exclaimed, yet with an uneasy and troubled look.

“Uncle!” cried Calhoun in surprise, “do you not think there have been and are some real Christians in the Romish Church?”

“No doubt of it, Cal; some who, spite of her idolatrous teachings, worship God alone and put their trust solely in the atoning blood and imputed righteousness of Christ.  Yet who can fail to see in the picture of Babylon the Great so graphically drawn in Revelation, a faithful portraiture of Rome?  And the command is, ’Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partaker of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues.’”

Mr. Dinsmore paused, but no one seeming to have anything to say in reply, went on to give his sister a number of instances which had come to his knowledge, of the perversion of Protestant girls while being educated in convents.

“Well,” she said at last, “I’m not going to draw back now, but I shall be on the watch and if they do begin to tamper with my girls’ faith I’ll remove them at once.  There now I hope you are satisfied!”

“Not quite, Louise,” he said, “they are accomplished proselyters and may have the foundations completely and irremediably undermined ere you suspect that they have begun.”

CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.

    “Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue;
     Where patience, honor, sweet humanity,
     Calm fortitude, take root, and strongly flourish.” 
                        —­Mallet and THOMSON’S Alfred.

A bath, a nap, and a dainty supper had refreshed Molly somewhat before the children were admitted to her room, but they found her looking pale and thin, and oh, so sorrowful! so different from the bright, merry, happy “Cousin Molly” of six months ago.

Their little hearts swelled with sympathetic grief, and tears filled their eyes as one after another they took her hand and kissed her lovingly.

“Poor child, I so solly for oo!” said Herbert, and Molly laughed hysterically, then put her hands over her face, and sobbed as though her heart would break.  First, it was the oddity of being called “child” by such a mere baby, then the thought that she had become an object of pity to such an one.

“Don’ ky,” he said, pulling away her hand to kiss her cheek.  “Herbie didn’t mean to make oo ky.”

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