"It is quite impossible, I assure you," said the spinster, in her most aggravating manner. "It would be quite against the wishes of my brother, the Doctor, as well as of Mr. Maverick." "Monsieur Maverick! _Mon Dieu_, Madame! He is no father to her; he leaves her to die with strangers; he has no heart; I have better right: I love her. I must see her!" And with a passionate step,--those eyes of hers glaring in that strange double way upon the amazed Miss Eliza,--she strides toward the door, as if she would overcome all opposition. But before she has gone out, that cruel pain has seized her, and she sinks upon a chair, quite prostrated, and with hands clasped wildly over that burden of a heart. "Too hard! too hard!" she murmurs, scarce above her breath. The spinster is attentive, but is untouched. Her self-poise never deserts her. And not then, or at any later period, did poor Madame Arles succeed in overcoming the iron resolve of Miss Johns. The good Doctor is greatly troubled by the report of Miss Eliza. Can it be possible that Adele has given a confidence to this strange woman that she has not given to them? Cold and harsh! Can Adele, indeed, have said this? Has he not labored with a full heart? Has he not agonized in prayer to draw in this wandering lamb to the fold? He has seen, indeed, that the poor child has chafed much latterly, that the old serenity and gayety are gone. But is it not a chafing under the fetters of sin? Is it not that she begins to see more clearly the fiery judgments of God which will certainly overwhelm the wrongdoers, whatever may be the unsubstantial and evanescent graces of their mortal life?