s in the window where I stood, and
extended his hand as he had done to Mrs. Linwood and Edith. He looked
hurt rather than angry, disappointed rather than sad.

"Forgive me," said I, in a low voice; "I value your friendship too much
to lose it without an effort."

The tears were in my eyes; I could not help it. I was sorry, for they
expressed far more than I meant to convey. I knew it at once by the
altered, beaming expression of his countenance.

"Give me smiles or tears, dear Gabriella," he answered, in the same
undertone; "only do not forget me, only think of me as I wish to be
remembered."

He pressed my hand warmly, energetically, while uttering these words;
then, without giving me time to reply, bowed again to Mrs. Linwood and
left the room.

"A very fine, promising young man," said Mrs. Linwood, with emphasis.

"A most intelligent, agreeable companion," added the gentle Edith,
looking smilingly at me, as if expecting me to say something.

"Very," responded I, in a constrained manner.

"Is that all?" she asked, laying her soft, white hand on my shoulders,
and looking archly in my face; "is that all, Gabriella?"

"Indeed, you are mistaken," said I, hastily; "he is nothing more,--and
yet I am wrong to say that,--he has been,--he is like a brother to me,
Edith, and never will be any thing more."

"Oh, these brother friends!" she exclaimed, with a burst of musical
laughter, "how very near they seem! But wait, Gabriella, till you see
_my_ brother,--he is one to boast of."

"Edith!" said her mother. Edith turned her blue eyes from me to her
mother, with a look of innocent surprise. The tone seemed intended to
check her,--yet what had she said?

"You should not raise expectations in Gabriella which will not be
realized," observed Mrs. Linwood, in that quiet tone of hers which had
so much power. "Ernest, however dear he may be to us as a son and
brother, has peculiar traits which sometimes repel the admiration of
strangers. His impenetrable reserve chills the warmth of enthusiasm,
while the fitfulness of his morals produces constant inquietude. He was
born under a clouded star, and the horoscope of his destiny is darkened
by its influence."

"I love him better for his lights and shadows," said Edith, "he keeps
one always thinking of him."

"When would this shadowy, flashing being appear, who kept one always
thinking of him?"

CHAPTER XV.

As I had made an engagement with Mr. Regulus for one yea