"Living!" and an expression almost of radiance shot over the fair face. But in an instant it was gone. Was not the poor lady she had so religiously mourned over her mother? That death embrace and the tomb were, then, only solemn mockeries! With a frightful alertness her thought ran to them,—weighed them. "New Papa," said she, approaching him with a gravity that matched his own, "is this some new delusion? Is it true? Has he written me?"
"He has not written you, my child; but I have a letter, informing me of his marriage, and begging me to make the revelation to you as kindly as I might."
"Marriage! Marriage to whom?" says Adèle, her eyes flashing fire, and her lips showing a tempest of scarce controllable feeling.
"Marriage to your mother, Adaly. He would be just at last."
"O my God!" exclaimed Adèle, with a burst of tears. "It's false! I shall never see my mother again in this world. I know it! I know it!"
"But, Adaly, my child, consider!" said the old gentleman.
Adèle did not heed him. She was lost in her own griefs. She could only exclaim, "O my father! my father!"
The old Doctor was greatly moved; he laid down his spectacles, and paced up and down the room. The earnestness of her doubt made him almost believe that he was himself deceived.
"Can it be? can it be?" he muttered, half under breath, while Adèle sat drooping in her chair. "May be the instinct of the poor girl is right, after all," thought he,—"sin is so full of disguises."
At this moment there is a sharp tap at the door, and Miss Eliza steps in, the bearer of a letter from Reuben.