ixty 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.

After a time, Maverick says, "You will be glad to return with me,--glad
to embrace again your mother?"

"My own, true mother?" said Adele, the blood running now swift over
cheek and brow.

"Your own, Adele,--your own! As God is true!"

Adele grows calm,--an unwonted calmness. "Tell me how she looks, papa,"
said she.

"Your figure, Adele; not so tall, perhaps, but slight like you; and her
hair,--you have her hair, darling (and he kissed it). Your eye too, for
color, with a slight, hardly noticeable cast in it." And as Adele turned
an inqui