et it,
Gabriella,--do."

"Impossible!" I answered, "I never wrote but one poem for exhibition,
and the experience of that hour was sufficient for a lifetime."

"You were but a child then, Gabriella. Mr. Regulus would give it a very
different reception now, I know he would," said Edith.

"If it is a child's story, will you not relate it?" asked Ernest; "you
have excited my curiosity."

"Curiosity, brother, I thought you possessed none."

"Interest is a better word. If I understand aright, the buddings of
Gabriella's genius met with an untimely blight."

I know not how it was, but I felt in an exceedingly ingenuous mood, and
I related this episode in my childish history without reserve. I touched
lightly on the championship of Richard Clyde, but I was obliged to
introduce it. I had forgotten that he was associated with the narration,
or I should have been silent.

"This youthful knight, and the hero of commencement day are one, then,"
observed Ernest. "He is a fortunate youth, with the myrtle and the
laurel both entwining his brows; you must be proud of your champion."

"I am _grateful_ to him," I replied, resolved to make a bold effort to
remove the impression I knew he had received. Mrs. Linwood was not
present, or I could not have spoken as I did. "He defended me because he
thought I was oppressed; he befriended me because my friends were few.
He has the generous spirit of chivalry which cannot see wrong without
seeking to redress it, or suffering without wishing to relieve it. I am
under unspeakable obligations to him, for he it was who spoke kindly of
the obscure little girl to your mother and sister, and obtained for me
the priceless blessing of their love."

"I dare say _they_ feel very grateful to him, likewise," said he, in a
tone of genuine feeling. "I acknowledge _my_ share of the obligation.
But is he so disinterested as to claim no recompense, or does he find
that chivalry, like goodness, is its own exceeding great reward?"

"I thought I regarded him as a brother, till now Edith has convinced me
I am mistaken."

"How so?" he asked, with so peculiar an expression, I forgot what I was
going to say.

"How so?" he repeated, while Edith leaned towards him and laid her hand
on his.

"By showing me how strong and fervent a sister's love can be."

His eyes flashed; they looked like fountains of light, full to
overflowing. His arm involuntarily encircled Edith, and a smile,
beautiful as a woman's, cu