friend. It is a
sin in her to see it, perhaps; but she cannot help it.

Miss Johns has not succeeded in exciting the jealousy of Reuben,--at
least, not in the manner she had hoped. Her influence over him is
clearly on the wane. He sees, indeed, her exaggerated devotion to the
little stranger,--which serves, in her presence, at least, to call out
all his indifference. Yet even this, Adele, with her girlish instinct,
seems to understand, too, and bears the boy no grudge in consequence of
it. Nay, when he has received some special administration of the
parson's discipline, she allows her sympathy to find play in a tender
word or two that touch Reuben more than he dares to show.

And when they meet down the orchard, away from the lynx eye of Aunt
Eliza, there are rare apples far out upon overhanging limbs that he can
pluck, by dint of venturous climbing, for her; and as he sees through
the boughs her delicate figure tripping through the grass, and lingers
to watch it, there comes a thought that _she_ must be the Amanda of the
story, and not Rose,--and he, perched in the apple-tree, a glowing
Mortimer.

XXIII.

In the year 183-, Mr. Maverick writes to his friend Johns that the
disturbed condition of public affairs in France will compel him to
postpone his intended visit to America, and may possibly detain him for
a long time to come. He further says,--"In order to prevent all possible
hazards which may grow out of our revolutionary fervor on this side of
the water, I have invested in United States securities, for the benefit
of my dear little Adele, a sum of money which will yield some seven
hundred dollars a year. Of this I propose to make you trustee, and
desire that you should draw so much of the yearly interest as you may
determine to be for her best good, denying her no reasonable requests,
and making your household reckoning clear of all possible deficit on her
account.

"I am charmed with the improved tone of her letters, and am delighted to
see by them that even under your grave regimen she has not lost her old
buoyancy of spirits. My dear Johns, I owe you a debt in this matter
which I shall never be able to repay. Kiss the little witch for me; tell
her that 'Papa' always thinks of her, as he sits solitary upon the green
bench under the arbor. God bless the dear one, and keep all trouble from
her!"

She, gaining in height now month by month, wins more and more upon the
grave Doctor,--wins upon Rose, who lov