"It's very strange," said Rose, turning to Adele.

And Adele, all her color gone, had the fortitude to pat Rose lovingly
upon the shoulder, and to say, with a forced smile, "Life is very
strange, Rose."

But from this time till they reached home,--fortunately not far
away,--Adele said nothing more. Rose remarked an unwonted pallor in her
cheeks.

"You are tired, Adele," said she; "you are so pale!"

"Child," said Adele, tapping her again, in a womanly way that was
strange to her companion, "you have color for us both."

At this, her reserve of dignity and fortitude being now wellnigh spent,
she rushed away to her chamber. What wonder if she sought the little
crucifix, sole memento of the unknown mother, and glued it to her lips,
as she fell upon her knees by the bedside, and uttered such a prayer for
help and strength as had never uttered before?

"It is true! it is true! I see it now. The child of shame! The child of
shame! O my father, my father! what wrong have you done me!" And again
she prays for help and strength.

There is not a doubt in her mind where the truth lies. In a moment her
thought has flashed over the whole chain of evidence. The father's
studied silence; her alienation from any home of her own; the mysterious
hints of the Doctor; and the strange communication of Reuben,--all come
up in stately array and confound her with the bitter truth. There is a
little miniature of her father which she has kept among her choicest
treasures. She seeks it now. Is it to throw it away in scorn? No, no,
no. Our affections are after all not submissible to strict moral
regimen. It is with set teeth and a hard look in her eye that she
regards it at first; then her eyes suffuse with tears while she looks,
and she kisses it passionately again and again.

"Can there be some horrible mistake in all this?" she asks herself. At
the thought she slips on hat and shawl and glides noiselessly down the
stairs, (not for the world would she have been interrupted!) and walks
swiftly away to her old home at the parsonage.

Dame Tourtelot meets her and says, "Good evening, Miss Adeel."

And Adele, in a voice so firm that it does not seem her own, says, "Good
evening, Miss Tourtelot." She wonders greatly at her own calmness.

LIV.

The Doctor is alone in his study when Adele comes in upon him, and she
has reached his chair and dropped upon her knees beside him before he
has time to rise.

"New Papa, you have been so