“As soon as peace between the two countries was declared, I crossed the Channel, and from thence hastened to Verdun. The vineyard still remained, though in ruins, and the ashes of the cottage were strewed upon the plain. No one could tell me of Adele. The inhabitants of the house at which I had lodged were mourning for the loss of their brave sons, whom Bonaparte had compelled to enter the army; age had dimmed their sight, but sorrow more. I told them who I was, and they recoiled from me in doubt and perplexity. However, I soon convinced them, and then I heard that Wirrion had buried poor Robinson, and reported that both our remains were contained in the same coffin, and interred in the same grave. I inquired for Adele and Euphemia; the latter was dead, but of the former they could give me no information, and after a fruitless search I bent my way to Paris. “One day having dined with several British officers, we took a stroll in the evening through the city, and on arriving at the _Palais Royale_, a number of persons had assembled round an itinerant singer; but as she was not then engaged, we were passing on, when our steps were suddenly arrested by a sweet plaintive voice, pouring forth those thrilling notes which, like inspiration, almost enchant the soul. We drew near the crowd, but how shall I describe my agitation when I heard the self-same _chanson_ which Adele had sung so exquisitely when I first beheld her? Old remembrances rushed upon my mind, and unconsciously putting aside those who opposed my progress, I advanced close to the singer. Her back was toward me, and her voice seemed faltering as if shaken by bitter recollections; but when she arrived near the close, her tones were scarcely audible. At that moment she turned; I gazed upon her features, and the next instant she was in my arms,--it was herself--it was Adele! “Why need I repeat every transaction? Together we returned to England, and she became my wife;--yes, mine by every tie, both human and divine. She told me her tale of sorrow, but I cannot relate it now. Her sufferings had been on my account, and I was determined to heal the wounded spirit and bind up the broken heart. The world condemned and shunned me, but what had I to do with the world? Adele was all to me, and in her dear society I forgot my sorrows. Not but that she was changed: circumstances had much altered the natural sweetness of her temper, and the mode of life she had pursued contributed to deaden the finer feelings of the heart; but she was the deliverer who saved me from destruction, and I thought only of our meeting at the gathering in of the vintage.