and more to the intimacy established
with him; and Northwick seemed to grow more and more reliant on Pinney's
filial cares. Mrs. Pinney shared these, as far as the baby would permit;
and she made the silent refugee at home with her. She had her opinion of
his daughters, who did not come to him, now that they knew where he was;
but she concealed it from him, and helped him answer Suzette's letters
when he said he was not feeling quite well enough to write himself.
Adeline did not write; Suzette always said she was not quite well, but
was getting better. Then in one of Suzette's letters there came a tardy
confession that Adeline was confined to her bed. She was tormented with
the thought of having driven him away, and Suzette said she wished her
to write and tell him to come back, or to let them come to him. She
asked him to express some wish in the matter, so that she could show his
answer to Adeline. Suzette wrote that Mr. Hilary had come over from his
farm, and was staying at Elbridge Newton's, to be constantly near them;
and in fact, Matt was with them when Adeline suddenly died; they had not
thought her dangerously sick, till the very day of her death, when she
began to sink rapidly.

In the letter that brought this news, Suzette said that if they had
dreamed of present danger they would have sent for their father to come
back at any hazard, and she lamented that they had all been so blind.
The Newtons would stay with her, till she could join him in Quebec; or,
if he wished to return, she and Matt were both of the same mind about
it. They were ready for any event; but Matt felt that he ought to know
there was no hope of his escaping a trial if he returned, and that he
ought to be left perfectly free to decide. Adeline would be laid beside
her mother.

The old man broke into a feeble whimper as Mrs. Pinney read him the last
words. Pinney, walking softly up and down with the baby in his arms,
whimpered too.

"I believe he _could_ be got off, if he went back," he said to his wife,
in a burst of sympathy, when Northwick had taken his letter away to his
own room.

The belief, generous in itself, began to mix with self-interest in
Pinney's soul. He conscientiously forbore to urge Northwick to return,
but he could not help portraying the flattering possibilities of such a
course. Before they parted for Pinney's own return, he confided his
ambition for the future to Northwick, and as delicately as he could he
suggested