_real_ thing in my mind is, after all, a little child of eight, rosy and
piquantly coquettish, who slaps my cheek when I tease her, and who, as I
bid her adieu at last upon the ship's deck, looks through her tears at
me and waves her little kerchief.

"It is quite possible that I may manage for her return with me, (of this
plan, too, I beg you to give no hint,) and in view of it I would suggest
that any available occasion be seized upon to revive her knowledge of
French, which, I fear, in your staid household she may almost have
forgotten. Tell dear Adele that I am sometimes at Le Pin, where her
godmother never fails to inquire after her and call down blessings on
the dear child."

Upon this the Doctor and Miss Johns take counsel. Both are not a little
disturbed by the anticipation of Adele's leave. The grave Doctor finds
his heart wrapped about by the winning ways of the little stranger in a
manner he could hardly have conceived possible on the day when he first
greeted her. On the score of her religious beliefs, he is not, indeed,
as yet thoroughly satisfied; but he feels sure that she is at least in a
safe path. The old idols are broken: God, in His own time, will do the
rest.

The spinster, though she has become unconsciously attached to Adele to a
degree of which she hardly believes herself capable, is yet not so much
disconcerted by the thought of any violence to her affections,--for all
violence of this kind she has schooled herself to regard with cool
stoicism,--but the possible interruption of her ambitious schemes with
respect to Reuben and Adele discomposes her sadly. Such a scheme she has
never given over for one moment. No plan of hers is ever given over
lightly; and she has that persistent faith in her own sagacity and
prudence which is not easily shaken. The growing intercourse with the
Elderkins, in view of the evident devotion of Phil, has been, indeed,
the source of a little uneasiness; but even this intimacy she has
moderated to a certain degree by occasional judicious fears in regard to
Adele's exposure to the night air; and has made the most--in her quiet
manner--of Phil's exceptional, but somewhat noisy, attentions to that
dashing girl, Sophie Bowrigg.

"A very suitable match it would be," she says some evening, casually, to
the Doctor; "and I really think that Phil, if there were any seriousness
about the lad, would meet his father's wishes in the matter. Adele,
child," (she is sitting by at