When Mr. Mandeville returned home in the evening, he found the maid in great trouble on account of Eveline’s long continued absence, and he himself became alarmed on learning that she had not been seen since early in the forenoon.  He knew that she often recreated in the grove, and, after finding her in no more likely place, he proceeded thither.  No Eveline was there, and no voice answered to his repeated calls; but in his search he found two billets of paper, and hastening to the house, for it was too dark to read them in the woods, he eagerly perused them.

One of the two was the letter to Eveline, purporting to be from her lover, which she had accidentally lost in her agitation, at the moment of setting out on her at first hopeful but sadly terminated errand; its contents are already known to the reader; and the other read as follows: 

“MR. MANDEVILLE:—­Being aware of your dislike to me, and having learned that you charge me with a crime of great magnitude—­no less than that of stealing your horse, (of which, permit me to say, I am as innocent as yourself,) and feeling assured, from these circumstances, that there was no hope for me ever to gain your consent to wed Eveline, I have taken the only alternative left me in the premises—­that of persuading your daughter to elope with me.  She has consented; and ere you read this note, will be my wife.  I hope you may find it in your heart to pardon us for taking this step, as it appears to us the only way in which our ardent wishes can be accomplished; but if you cannot pardon me, at least forgive Eveline, who has had a hard struggle between filial affection, duty and regard, and the strong pleadings of her heart; though her deep love at last conquered.

“But as we feel certain you will be highly exasperated at the first on receiving this intelligence, we have deemed it best to absent ourselves for a time.  You will not be able to find us, if you choose to institute a search, until such time as we please to show ourselves; hence you need not put yourself to the trouble of looking after us.  So soon, however, as you feel a willingness to receive us as your children, we will gladly return to you.  To ascertain your feelings on this subject, we will voluntarily open a correspondence with you at some period in the future, perhaps in a month, when you can communicate to us your wishes and commands.

“With sentiments of high esteem, and deeply pained feelings that I am compelled to take this step, I am, my very dear sir,

  “Your obedient servant,

  “CHARLES HADLEY.”

Mandeville read this letter a second time to assure himself that its contents were what they seemed, and when satisfied on this point, he stood mute for a brief space of time, as if to fully take in the astonishing truth that Eveline, his only, his beloved child, had so far forgotten her duly and her promise, yes, her solemn promise, as to leave her home and his care, for the love of a stranger!  At last the great reality seemed to enter his soul in all its crushing force, tearing from his heart the affections that had clustered around his only child for years, from his bosom the hopes of a lifetime, and leaving him a desolate, smitten, soul-chilled being, with all the beauty and brightness of life departed!