And now at last he sees the old porch,--the diamond lights in the door. Twenty and more years ago, and he had lounged there, as the pretty Rachel drove up in the parson's chaise. The same rose-brier is nodding its untrimmed boughs by the door. From the open window above he catches a glimpse of a hard, thin face, with spectacles on nose, that scans him curiously. The Doctor's hat and cane are upon the table at the foot of the stairs within. He taps with his knuckles upon the study-door,--and again the two college mates are met together. At sight of the visitor, whom he recognizes at a glance, the heart of the old man is stirred by a little of the old youthful feeling. "Maverick!" and he greets him with open hand. "Johns, God bless you!" The parson was white-haired, and was feeble to a degree that shocked Maverick; while the latter was still erect and prim, and, with his gray hair carefully brushed to conceal his growing baldness, appeared in excellent preservation. His coquettings for sixty years with the world, the flesh, and the Devil had not yet reduced his _phisique_ to that degree of weakness which the multiplied spiritual wrestlings had entailed upon the good Doctor. The minister recognized this with a look rather of pity than of envy, and may possibly have bethought himself of that Dives who "in his lifetime received good things," but "now is tormented." Yet he ventured upon no warning; there is, indeed, a certain assured manner about the man of the world who has passed middle age, which a country parson, however good or earnest he may be, would no more attempt to pierce than he would attempt a thrust of his pen through ice. Their conversation, after the first greetings, naturally centres upon Adele. Maverick is relieved to find that she knows, even now, the worst; but he is grievously pained to learn that she is still in doubt, by reason of that strange episode which had grown out of the presence and death of Madame Arles,--an episode which, even now, he is at a loss to explain. "She will be unwilling to return with me then," said Maverick, in a troubled manner. "No," said the Doctor, "she expects that. You will find in her, Maverick, a beautiful respect for your authority; and, I think, a still higher respect for the truth." So it was with disturbed and conflicting feelings that Maverick made his way to the present home of Adele. The windows and doors of the Elderkin mansion were all open upon that July day. Adele had seen him, even as he entered the little gate, and, recognizing him on the instant, had rushed down to meet him in the hall. "Papa! papa!" and she had buried her face upon his bosom. "Adele, darling! you are glad to welcome me then?" "Delighted, papa." And Maverick kissed, again and again, that fair face of which he was so proud. We recoil from the attempt to transcribe the glowing intimacy of their first talk.