Saying this he presented a letter, which Eveline received with a joy-beaming countenance, and read with a wildly-throbbing heart. It ran as follows:
"Dearest Eveline: For some weeks past, I have been in a distant city, at the urgent call of duty, to attend the bedside of a sick mother. I left while you were yet very ill, and bore with me the heavy fear that you might never recover to bless me with a kind word or gentle look. So terrible has been the suspense, and so deep the anxiety of mind under which my spirit has labored, I could only perform my duties to a beloved mother by resolutely bending my energies to the task, and with the first hour of assured convalescence hastened to learn your fate. Oh, best beloved, may I not hope to see you again? I have learned that you are better, and the first great burden is removed, but I so long to behold you once more,—to hear you speak—to know that I am not forgotten. But you know I dare not come to you without incurring your father's deep displeasure; and I have been in doubt and perplexity how to act. This note will be borne to you by my most confidential friend, who will not betray us. If you can come to me, even if it be but for a few brief moments, I beseech you to do so; but do in this matter as your own better judgment shall determine. If you cannot come, send me a note, even though it be but a line, that I may have some precious token of remembrance to gaze upon. I am but a short distance from your home, and a few steps will bring you to me; if you come, place yourself under the guidance of my friend. Leaving you to act as prudence and your own heart shall dictate, I remain, impatiently,
"Yours, most faithfully,
"Charles."
"P.S. Do permit me to entreat you to come if you can. I have a thousand things to tell you, and some of them are cheering. I have not time to write more now."
As we have said, Eveline read this letter with the wildest emotions thrilling through her heart. A tumult of joy was in her bosom—joy more exquisite than had gladdened her spirit since the hour when her young heart knew that its deep love was reciprocated. Hadley was near her—he had been falsely accused, and instead of the vile criminal he was represented, he was a loving and dutiful son, fleeing to the bedside of a sick mother! What a consolation to her heart! Without a moment's hesitation, she resolved to see him, and turning to the gentleman, from whom she averted her face, while reading, to conceal her feelings, she said, deeply blushing as she did so:
"Mr. Hadley wishes me to see him, and directs me to place myself under your guidance. Will you be so kind as to show me the way to him?"
"With the greatest pleasure; for I know he will be but too happy to behold you. Pardon me, if, in my zeal for my friend, I should say aught that may be out of place."
He led the way into the deeper recesses of the forest, and she followed him. All this had been done in a moment, as it were, and without time for the slightest consideration. Under other circumstances, or with a little reflection, Eveline might have acted differently.
The two had proceeded a quarter of a mile or more, when Eveline, in passing a large tree, was suddenly seized by rude hands, and ere she had time to scream, a covering was placed over her mouth, and her hands secured. In these operations her recent guide took an active part, and when they were completed, he said:
"You shall not be injured by us, fair lady, and we only regret that we are compelled, by the force of circumstances, to put you to the inconvenience of a journey on so short a notice. You must go with us; but we will deal tenderly with you so long as you are peaceable and quiet; but you must beware how you attempt to make any noise; for we will not suffer ourselves to be betrayed by such means."