She kindly suggested that she would remain until I had secured a substitute. She was sorry, so sorry, to leave us, but it really became inevitable, she hardly had a choice.
I endeavored to conceal the radiance that I knew must illumine my countenance. I murmured what I could of regret, and the effort we should make to bear up under the blow. But I lost no time in instituting a search for the substitute. We parted amicably with mutual assurances of regard and but slightly concealed sympathy on her part, and once more the green blade of fresh hope sprung anew in the parched area of my heart.
But Adelina's deepest thrust was reserved until after her departure. She was much too discreet to "say things," and I might have hesitated to believe this had it not come to me by so direct and unquestionable a route and been so in keeping with Adelina's character. It was the milkman from whom it first emanated. The milkman and Adelina had been on good terms. His visits were too prolonged for any other construction and his rubicund countenance too animated as he chirruped to his horse in haste from the side path after leaving our back door. No, it could not be doubted.
