a few books with her parents' names in them—-John Allen and Caroline
Otway—-which she still kept as her chief treasures. The lawyer, who
had acted as her guardian, would hand over to her five hundred pounds
on her coming of age.

That was all that could be discovered, nor was Colonel Robert
Brownlow as much flattered as had been hoped by the provision for his
friend's daughter. Nay, he was inclined to disavow the friendship.
He was sorry for poor Allen, he said, but as to making a friend of
such a fellow, pah! No! there was no harm in him, he was a good
officer enough, but he never had a grain of common sense; and whereas
he never could keep out of debt, he must needs go and marry a young
girl, just because he thought her uncle was not kind to her. It was
the worst thing he could have done, for it made her uncle cast her
off on the spot, and then she was killed with harass and poverty. He
never held up his head again after losing her, and just died of fever
because he was too broken down to have energy to live. There was
enough in this to weave out a tender little romance, probably really
another aspect of the truth, which made Caroline's bright eyes
overflow with tears, when she heard it couched in tenderer language
from Joseph, and the few books and treasures that had been rescued
agreed with it-—a Bible with her father's name, a few devotional
books of her mother's, and Mrs. Hemans's poems with "To Lina, from
her devoted J. A."

Caroline would fain have been called Lina, but the name did not fit
her, and would not _take_.

Colonel Brownlow was altogether very friendly, if rather grave and
dry towards her, as soon as he was convinced that "it was only Joe,"