on?"

"Your supposition is true, my name is Mandeville. But you have not answered
my question yet."

"Pardon me, fair lady, for my seeming rude neglect. Yes, I know Mr. Hadley
well, and a better man does not live. He is my near and dear friend."

"Do you say so much? Then it is from him you have a message?"

"It is."

"Oh! tell me, is he well?"

"He is, but is longing to hear from you, to see you, to know that you are
still spared by the hand of death."

"You speak as though he were near. Is it indeed so?"

"It is, fair lady; he awaits your presence, or such word as you may be
pleased to send him, a short way from here, in the denser portion of the
forest, not wishing to transgress your father's commands contrary to your
wishes, or to expose himself to the displeasure of your parent, lest it
bring trouble and disquiet to your own heart. But please read the note he
commissioned me to bear to you; it probably explains the matter better than
I can, as he only confided to me such facts as were essentially necessary
for me to know, in order to an intelligent performance of the part he has
allotted to me as his friend."

Saying this he presented a letter, which Eveline received with a
joy-beaming countenance, and read with a wildly-throbbing heart. It ran as
follows:

"DEAREST EVELINE: For some weeks past, I have been in a distant
city, at the urgent call of duty, to attend the bedside of a sick mother. I
left while you were yet very ill, and bore with me the heavy fear that you
might never recover to bless me with a kind word or gentle look. So
terrible has been the suspense, and so deep the anxiety of mind under which
my spirit has labored, I could only perform my duties to a beloved mother
by resolutely bending my energies to the task, and with the first hour of
assured convalescence hastened to learn your fate. Oh, best beloved, may I
not hope to see you again? I have learned that you are better, and the
first great burden is removed, but I so long to behold you once more,--to
hear you speak--to know that I am not forgotten. But you know I dare not
come to you without incurring your father's deep displeasure; and I have
been in doubt and perplexity how to act. This note will be borne to you by
my most confidential friend, who will not betray us. If you can come to me,
even if it be but for a few brief moments, I beseech you to do so; but do
in this matter as your own better judgment shall determine. If you cann