f my childhood, the mentor of my growing years."

My voice choked. A strange dread took possession of me, he looked so
agitated, so little like himself. His hand trembled so that it dropped
the ruler, that powerful hand, in whose strong grasp I had seen the pale
delinquent writhe in terror. I hardly know what I dreaded, but the air
seemed thick and oppressive, and I longed to escape into the open
sunshine.

"Gabriella, my child," said he, "wait one moment. I did not think it
would require so much courage to confess so much weakness. I have been
indulging in dreams so wild, yet so sweet, that I fear to breathe them,
knowing that I must wake to the cold realities of life. I know not how
it is, but you have twined yourself about my heart so gradually, so
gently, but so strongly, that I cannot separate you from it. A young and
fragrant vine, you have covered it with beauty and freshness. You have
diffused within it an atmosphere of spring. You thought the cold
mathematician, the stern philosopher could not feel, but I tell thee,
child, we are the very ones that _can_ and _do_ feel. There is as much
difference between our love and the boyish passion which passes for
love, as there is between the flash of the glowworm and the welding heat
that fuses bars of steel. Oh! Gabriella, do not laugh at this
confession, or deem it lightly made. I hope nothing,--I ask nothing; and
yet if you could,--if you would trust your orphan youth to my keeping, I
would guard it as the most sacred trust God ever gave to man."

He paused from intense emotion, and wiped the drops of perspiration from
his forehead, while I stood ready to sink with shame and sorrow. No glow
of triumph, no elation of grateful vanity warmed my heart, or exalted my
pride. I felt humbled, depressed. Where I had been accustomed to look up
with respect, I could not bear to look down in pity, it was so strange,
so unexpected. I was stunned, bewildered. The mountain had lost its
crown,--it had fallen in an avalanche at my feet.

"Oh, Mr. Regulus!" said I, when I at last liberated my imprisoned voice,
"you honor me too much. I never dreamed of such a,--such a distinction.
I am not worthy of it,--indeed I am not. It makes me very unhappy to
think of your cherishing such feelings for me, who have looked up to you
so long with so much veneration and respect. I will always esteem and
revere you, dear Mr. Regulus,--always think of you with gratitude and
affection; but do not, I