Emma knew the history of her family, and understood well why she was hurried from land to sea, and from thence to other places remote from her home. Dora was not allowed to accompany her, because the physician said that her "long face" would be an incalculable injury; but that face, always beaming with the soul's deep interest and affection, was ever present to the sick girl. Through many a night-watch of suffering and feverish anxiety, those loving, earnest eyes seemed looking into her own; and Emma would say to her sister Martha, "Dear Dora! how I long to see her! she loves me, and prays for me; it seems to me that with Dora near I should not be afraid to die." Thus Emma talked; and the sensible, affectionate Martha saw that change of air and change of scene could not benefit her young sister, while her mind was so fevered and tossed; she therefore entreated her mother to return home, and after a time succeeded in making her understand this to be the best course. "O my dear Dora," said the poor weary child, as she found herself once more in her own room at home, with the good woman at her side, "I am so glad--_so_ glad to see you. And now I want you to stay with me, and talk as you used to when I was a little child. O, it makes me miserable to think how my heart wandered away from you, and from the Saviour, Dora; for I used to feel when a little girl that he loved me." "And he loves you still, dearest," replied the old lady, her heart swelling with gratitude to God. "He loves you, Emma, and will receive you freely, dear, without one word of reproach, if you will only come back." "I think so," said Emma, while the tears ran freely down her pale cheeks. "I did not spend those long dreadful nights, Dora, without thinking of him; and though ashamed of myself, I ventured to ask him, over and over again, to pity my wretchedness, and love me still. One night--it was not long ago--he seemed to come to me, and say the very same things which you have just said,--that he would not cast me off; that he loved me, even then." What a moment of joy to the faithful Christian, who had sowed in hope, but whose faith had been so severely tried. The tranquillity of mind which followed Emma's return home, operated favorably upon her health, and in a few weeks she was able to mingle with the family as formerly. Her mother did not propose her going abroad for company; but Emma seemed to take pleasure in being one of their small parties at home. Very different, however, was this pleasure from that which she had formerly sought and experienced. "What a change in Emma Lindsay!" was an exclamation frequent among her mother's friends. "Her pertness, repartee, and saucy witticisms are all gone. What have they been doing for her? This winning softness and grace of manner seems foreign to her nature."