"Right, I believe, Adaly; but vain, utterly vain, except you be counted
among the elect."
The poor girl had no reply, save only to drop a kiss upon his forehead
and pass out.
With the opening of the spring the townspeople were busy with the
question, if the Bowriggs would come again to occupy their summer
residence, that, with its closed doors and windows, was mournfully
silent. But soon the gardeners were set to work; it was understood that
a housekeeper had been engaged, and the family were to occupy it as
usual. Sophie writes to Adele, confirming it all, and adding,--"Madame
Arles had proposed to make us a visit, which papa hearing, and wishing
us to keep up our studies, has given her an invitation to pass the
summer with us. She says she will. I am so glad! We had told her very
much of you, and I know she will be delighted to have you as a scholar."
At this Adele feels a thrill of satisfaction, and looks longingly
forward to the time when she shall hear again from native lips the
language of her childhood.
"_Ma fille! ma fille!_"
The voices of her early home seem to ring again in her ear. She basks
once more in the delicious flow of the sunshine, and the perfume of the
orange-blossoms regales her.
----"_Ma fille!_"
Is it the echo of your voice, good old godmother, that comes rocking
over the great reach of sea, and so touches the heart of the exile?