“Dreaming and waiting”, repeated Adele, a slight red color kindling on her cheek, “am I dreaming and waiting?”

“It seems to me you are, ma chere; I fear it will at last spoil your peace.  I do not see how the Count D’Orsay can fail to win your heart.  Do not decide hastily, Adele”.

“I have considered the affair a long time already.  I have looked into my heart and find nothing there, for Count D’Orsay, but simple respect, esteem, and friendship.  It would be a wrong to him, should I consent to marry him, without a warmer, deeper sentiment.  It is of no use thinking about it longer.  The subject must be closed.  I know I shall not change, and his affection is too true and pure to be tampered with.  I shall tell him all frankly next week”.

“Eh, bien!” said Mrs. Dubois, with a sigh, and returned to her letters.

Adele, who felt quite unhappy to disappoint her mother’s hopes in the case, looked thoughtful.  They were both silent for several minutes.

“Here is a letter from the good missionary”, suddenly whispered Mrs. Dubois, holding up to her daughter several sheets of large paper, well covered.  “See what a nice long one.  Now we shall hear the news from our old home”.

She began to read the missive in a low tone, looking occasionally to see if her voice disturbed the sleeper, and Adele, whose countenance had instantly brightened upon the mention of the letter, drew her seat nearer to her mother and listened intently.

   MIRAMICHI RIVER, APRIL, 1828.

   DEAR FRIENDS—­

I am again on the memorable spot.  You can scarcely imagine my interest in retracing the scene of my brief mission here, in the summer and autumn of 1825, or the deep emotion with which I revisit your former residence, the house under whose roof you so kindly sheltered and entertained one, then exiled, like yourselves, from home.  I shall ever rejoice that Providence threw me into your society, and bestowed upon me the precious gift of your friendship.

Three years have passed since those eventful weeks we spent together, on the banks of this beautiful river, and you will be interested to know what changes have taken place here during that time.

Traces are still distinctly visible of the awful fire, but Time, the great healer of wounds, and Nature, who is ever striving to cover up the desolations of earth, are both at work, silently but diligently overlaying the hideous black disfigurement with greenness and beauty.  The Miramichi and its picturesque precincts are now more alive than ever, with a hardy and active population.  New villages are springing up on the banks of the river, and business, especially in the branches of lumbering and fishing, is greatly increasing.  There is also a marvellous change in the moral aspect of the country.  It is ascribed in a great degree to the deep impression made upon the minds of the people by the conflagration, and doubtless this is the fact.  It must be that God had a retributory end in view in that great event.  It was a judgment upon the community for its exceeding wickedness.  Nothing short of a grand, widespread illumination like that, could have penetrated the gross darkness that hung over the land.