erwrought feelings could no longer be restrained; and the tears gushed
thickly from his eyes.

"Don't," said Wilkins, tenderly, "don't! This will doubtless be the last
time he will wander off in this way--he is impulsive and yielding, and
you, who are less so, must guard him in future."

Cheered, though not convinced, by Wilkins' words, Guly once more sought
his own room. He had never pressed that pillow alone before, and with a
desolate and heavy heart, the golden lashes were allowed to droop, and
the boy fell into a troubled slumber.

Through a narrow chink in the roof above, a moonbeam stole, and nestled
down beside him. It lay there in Arthur's vacant place like the gleam of
an angel's smile; and all it fell upon was purity and beauty. The night
wore on. The boy slept, the moonbeam faded, and troubled dreams and
desolate darkness alone remained behind.

CHAPTER VII.

_Della._

The city clocks were tolling midnight, and the moon rode high in the
heavens. In one of the most elegant houses Apollo-street could boast,
sat a young girl. The room in which she was sitting presented a scene of
almost oriental ease and luxury. There was the rich carpet, giving back
no echo to the tread, the gorgeous divans, into which the form sank as
into down, the glittering chandeliers, the rare and exquisite vases,
statuary, birds, books, and all that the capricious, self-willed spirit,
which presided there, could wish to draw around her. The lights in the
chandeliers had been extinguished; and save that which crept in from the
moon, and that emitted from a small night-lamp, burning behind its
alabaster shade, the room lay in soft shadow.

The long windows descended to the floor, and opened upon a balcony, from
whence was wafted by the slight night-breeze, the delicate fragrance of
the jasmine, mingled with that of rare roses, and other choice flowers.
At the lower end of the balcony, a flight of steps descended to the
garden, where the music of a tinkling fountain fell refreshingly on the
ear. This part of the grounds was protected by a high brick wall,
thickly overrun with luxuriant vines, which entirely concealed a small
door, long left forgotten and unused by the proprietor of these princely
domains.

This door opened into an adjacent court, little used save by the
domestics, and thence egress was easy to the street. Seated upon a
velvet cushion, the fair occupant of the apartment gazed eagerly out
upon the garden-do