This narrative is a simple report of one of the thousands of sad romances which were daily and hourly happening to American women during the late civil struggle.
"Too common! Never morning wore
To evening but some heart did break."
DOCTOR JOHNS.
XLIII.
The foreign letters rarely came singly; and Adèle had already accomplished the reading of her own missive, in which Maverick had spoken of his having taken occasion to address, by the same mail, a line to the Doctor on matters of business, "in regard to which," (he had said,) "don't, my dear Adèle, be too inquisitive, even if you observe that it is cause of some perplexity to the good Doctor. Indeed, in such case, I hope you will contribute to his cheer, as I am sure you have often done. We owe him a large debt of gratitude, my child, and I rely upon you to add your thankfulness to mine, and speak for both."
"You look troubled, New Papa," said Adèle. "Can I help you? Eh, Doctor?"
And she came toward him in her playful manner, and patted the old gentleman on the shoulder, while he sat with his face buried in his hands.
"I don't think papa writes very cheerfully, do you? Eh,—Doctor—Benjamin—Johns?" (tapping him with more spirit.)—"Why, New Papa, what does this mean?"
For the Doctor had raised his head now, and regarded her with a look of mingled yearning and distrust that was wholly new to her.