ahawks, deadly scalping-knives, were less terrible
than my dark imaginings.

"Bless me," cried my master, seating me in his great arm-chair and
fanning me with an atlas which he caught from his desk, "I did not mean
to frighten you, my child. I wanted to advise, to counsel you, to
_prevent_ misconstruction and unkind remark. My motives are pure, indeed
they are; you believe they are, do you not?"

"Certainly I do," I answered, passing my hand over my eyes, to clear
away the dark specks that still floated over them; "but if you have any
regard for my feelings, speak at once, plainly and openly. I will be
grateful for any advice prompted by kindness, and expressed without
mystery."

"I only thought," said he, becoming again visibly embarrassed, "that I
would suggest the propriety of your not permitting young Clyde to
accompany you home so often. The extraordinary interest he took in you
as a boy, renders his present attentions more liable to remark. A young
girl in your situation, my child, cannot be too particular, too much on
her guard. College boys are wild fellows. They are not safe companions
for innocence and simplicity like yours."

"And is this all?" I asked, drawing a long breath, and feeling as if
Mont Blanc had rolled from my breast.

"It is."

"And you have heard no invidious remarks?"

"Not yet, Gabriella, but--"

"My dear master," said I, rising with a joyous spring from my chair. "I
thank you from the bottom of my heart for your anxious care of my good
name. But I am sure Mrs. Linwood would not have sanctioned an
impropriety. I have always felt towards Richard as I imagine I would
towards a brother, were I so blest as to have one. He has made my lonely
walks very pleasant by his lively and intelligent conversation. Still, I
do not care to have him accompany me so often. I would rather that he
would not. I will tell him so. I dare say you are right, Mr. Regulus; I
know you are. I know so little of the world, I may offend its rules
without being aware of it."

I felt so unspeakably relieved, so happy that the mountain of slander
which my imagination had piled up was reduced to an _anticipated_
molehill, that my spirits rebounded even to gaiety. I laughed at the
sight of my torn glove, for I had actually pulled off the fingers by my
nervous twitches.

"I thought you were going to apply the spatula. I feared you thought me
guilty of writing another poem, Mr. Regulus; what else could make you
look