e this vulture appetite for preying upon
the very bowels of sinners; and there is no judge so implacable as one
who inflames his judicial zeal with the fiery heats of an exaggerated
religious pretension.

Think, then, of the situation of poor Adele under the attentions of such
a woman, after she has ferreted out from the Doctor the truth with
respect to Reuben! It makes us tremble while we write of it. There is
often a kind of moral tyranny in households, which, without ever a loud
word, much less a blow, can pierce a sensitive mind as with fiery
needles. Of such a silent, fearful tyranny Adele now felt the
innumerable stings, and under it her natural exuberance of spirits gave
way, her faith almost waned; it seemed to her that a kiss upon her
silent crucifix were better than a prayer shared with her tormentor.

The Doctor showed all his old, grave kindness; but he was sadly broken
by his anxieties with respect to his son; nor was he ever demonstrative
enough to supply the craving of Adele's heart, under her present greed
for sympathy. Even the villagers looked upon her more coldly since the
sharpened speech of the spinster had dropped widely, but very quietly,
its damaging innuendoes, and since her well-calculated surmises, that
French blood was, after all, not to be wholly trusted. It was clear to
the townspeople that all was at an end between Adele and Reuben,--clear
that she had fallen away from the old favor in which she once stood at
the parsonage; and Miss Eliza, by her adroit hints, and without any
palpable violation of truth, found means of associating these results
with certain suspicious circumstances which had come to light respecting
the poor girl's character,--circumstances for which she herself (Miss
Eliza was kind enough to say) was not altogether accountable, perhaps,
but yet sufficient to warrant a little reserve of confidence, and _of
course_ putting an end to any thought of intimate alliance with "the
Johns family." She even whispered in her most insidious manner into the
ear of old Mistress Tew,--who, being somewhat deaf, is the most
inveterate village gossip,--that "it was hard for the poor thing, when
Reuben left so suddenly."

Adele writes in these times to her father, that he need put himself in
no fear in regard to marriage. "I have had an _eclaircissement_" (she
says) "with friend Reuben. His declaration of attachment (I think I may
tell _you_ this, dear papa) was so wholly unexpected that I