naughty that I don't like doing anything for you," said Esther, smiling rather sadly at him.
"Child, what has happened? you have become the image of your mother to-night," said the minister, in a loud whisper. The tears came and relieved him, while Esther, who had stooped to lift the porridge from the fender, paused on one knee and looked up at him.
"She was very good to you?" asked Esther, softly.
"Yes, dear. She did not reject my affection. She thought not scorn of my love. She would have forgiven me, if I had erred against her, from very tenderness. Could you forgive me, child?"
"Father, I have not been good to you; but I will be, I will be," said Esther, laying her head on his knee.
He kissed her head. "Go to bed, my dear; I would be alone."
When Esther was lying down that night, she felt as if the little incidents between herself and her father on this Sunday had made it an epoch. Very slight words and deeds may have a sacramental efficacy, if we can cast our self-love behind us, in order to say or do them. And it has been well believed through many ages that the beginning of compunction is the beginning of a new life; that
