his whole life, had he known such strange revulsion
of feeling. With returning calmness he smooths the letter upon his desk,
and continues:--

"I expect your condemnation, of course; yet listen to my story
throughout. That child I might have left to the tender mercies of the
world, might have ignored it, and possibly forgotten its existence. Many
a man, with fewer stains on his conscience than I have, would have done
this, and met the world and old friends cheerily. But then the memory of
you and of your teachings somehow kindled in me what I counted a
worthier purpose. I vowed that the child should, if possible, lead a
guileless life, and should no way suffer, so far as human efforts could
prevent, for the sins of the parents. The mother assented, with what I
counted a guilty willingness, to my design, and I placed her secretly
under the charge of the old godmother of whom Adele must often have
spoken.

"But I was no way content that she should grow up under French
influences, and to the future knowledge (inevitable in these scenes) of
the ignominy of her birth. And if that knowledge were ever to come, I
could think of no associations more fitted to make her character stanch
to bear it than those that belong to the rigid and self-denying virtues
which are taught in a New England parish. Is it strange that I recurred
at once to your kindness, Johns? Is it strange that I threw the poor
child upon your charity?

"It is true, I used deceit,--true that I did not frankly reveal the
truth; but See how much was stake! I knew in what odium such trespasses
were held in the serenity of your little towns; I knew, that, if you,
with Spartan courage, should propose acceptance of the office, your
family would reject it. I knew that your love of truth would be
incapable of the concealments or subterfuges which might be needed to
protect the poor child from the tongue of scandal. In short, I was not
willing to take the risk of a repulse. 'Such deceit as there may be,' I
said, 'is my own. My friend Johns can never impute it as a sin to
Adele.' I am sure you will not now. Again, I felt that I was using
deceit (if you will allow me to say it) in a good cause, and that you
yourself, when once the shock of discovery should be past, could never
reprimand yourself for your faithful teachings to an erring child, but
must count her, in your secret heart, only another of the wandering
lambs which it was your duty and pleasure to lead into the