fear we are walking
over trap-doors, whose secret mouths are ready to yawn on the
unsuspecting victim."

"Beware then, Gabriella,--I may be one of the genii, whose terrible
power no mortal can evade, who can read the thoughts of the heart as
easily as the printed page. How would you like to be perused so
closely?"

"Would that you could read every thought of my heart, Ernest, every
emotion of my soul, then you would know, what words can never
express,--the height and depth of my love and devotion--I will not _say_
gratitude--since you reject and disown it,--but that I must ever feel.
Can I ever forget the generosity, the magnanimity, which, overlooking
the cloud upon my birth, has made me the sharer of your princely
destiny, the mistress of a home like this?"

"You do not care for it, only as the expression of my affection; I am
sure you do not," he repeated, and his dark gray eye seemed to read the
inmost depths of thought.

"Oh, no! a cottage or a palace would be alike to me, provided you are
near me. It seems to me now as if I should awake in the morning, and
find I had been in a dream. I am not sure that you have not a magic ring
on your finger that produces this illusion."

But the morning sunbeams flashed on the softly murmuring fountain, on
the white polished forms of the Grecian myths, on the trailing
luxuriance of the tropic blossoms. They glanced in on the glittering
drapery that wreathed the marble columns, and lighted the crystal dome
over my head with a mild, subdued radiance.

A boudoir which I had not seen the evening before elicited my morning
admiration,--it was furnished with such exquisite elegance, and
contained so many specimens of the fine arts. Two rosewood cabinets,
inlaid with pearl, were filled with _chefs-d'[oe]uvres_ from the hands
of masters, collected in the old world. They were locked; but through
the glass doors I could gaze and admire, and make them all my own. An
elegant escritoire was open on the table, the only thing with which I
could associate the idea of utility. Yes, there was a harp, that seemed
supported by a marble cherub,--a most magnificent instrument. I sighed
to think it was useless to me; but Ernest's hand would steal music from
its silent strings.

And now behold me installed as mistress of this luxurious mansion, an
utter stranger in the heart of a great metropolis!

It was now that I understood the reserve of Ernest's character. It was
impossible that we sho