neither
myself nor my child can want for any luxury. The mother, by her present
associations and by the propriety of her life, is above all suspicion;
and her air and bearing are such as would be a passport to friendly
association with refined people here or elsewhere. You may count this a
failure of Providence to fix its punishment upon transgressors: I count
it only one of those accidents of life which are all the while
surprising us.

"There was a time when I would have had ambition to do otherwise; but
now, with my love for Adele established by my intercourse with her and
by her letters, I have no other aim, if I know my own heart, than her
welfare. It should be kept in mind, I think, that the marriage spoken
of, if it ever take place, will probably involve, sooner or later, a
full exposure to Adele of all the circumstances of her birth and
history. I say this will be involved, because I am sure that the warm
affections of Mademoiselle Chalet will never allow of the concealment of
her maternal relations, and that her present religious perversity (if
you will excuse the word) will not admit of further deceits. I tremble
to think of the possible consequences to Adele, and query very much in
my own mind, if her present blissful ignorance be not better than
reunion with a mother through whom she must learn of the ignominy of her
birth. Of Adele's fortitude to bear such a shock, and to maintain any
elasticity of spirits under it, you can judge better than I.

"I propose to delay action, my dear Johns, and of course my sailing for
America, until I shall hear from you."

Our readers can surely anticipate the tone of the Doctor's reply. He
writes:--

"Duty, Maverick, is always duty. The issues we must leave in the hands
of Providence. One sin makes a crowd of entanglements; it is never weary
of disguises and deceits. We must come out from them all, if we would
aim at purity. From my heart's core I shall feel whatever shock may come
to poor, innocent Adele by reason of the light that may be thrown upon
her history; but if it be a light that flows from the performance of
Christian duty, I shall never fear its revelations. If we had been
always true, such dark corners would never have existed to fright us
with their goblins of terror. It is never too late, Maverick, to begin
to be true.

"I find a strange comfort, too, in what you tell me of that religious
perversity of Mademoiselle Chalet which so chafes you. I have ne