here, I assure you. I am
determined to see all the lions; go to all fashionable places of
amusement, all attractive exhibitions, theatres, concerts, panoramas,
every thing that promises the least particle of enjoyment. I shall
parade Broadway, frequent Stewart's marble palace, and make myself the
belle of the city. And you are to go with me, my dear,--for am I not
your guest, and are you not bound to minister to my gratification? As
for your ogre, he may go or stay, just as he pleases. There will be
plenty who will be glad enough to take his place."

I did not expect that she would have the audacity to say this to Ernest;
but she did. I had never asked him to take me to places of public
amusement, because I knew he did not wish it. Sometimes, when I saw in
the morning papers that a celebrated actor was to appear in a fine
drama, my heart throbbed with momentary desire, and my lips opened to
express it. But delicacy and pride always restrained its expression. I
waited for him to say,--

"Gabriella, would you like to go?"

The morning after her arrival she ransacked the papers, and fastening on
the column devoted to amusements, read its contents aloud, to the
evident annoyance of Ernest.

"Niblo's Garden, the inimitable Ravels--_La Fete champetre_,--dancing on
the tight-rope, etc. Yes, that's it. We will go there to-night,
Gabriella. I have been dying to see the Ravels. Cousin Ernest,--you did
not know that you were my cousin, did you?--but you are. Our mothers
have been climbing the genealogical tree, and discovered our collateral
branches. Cousin Ernest, go and get us tickets before the best seats are
secured. What an unpromising countenance! Never mind. Mr. Harland said
he would be only too happy to attend Gabriella and myself to any place
of amusement or party of pleasure. You are not obliged to go, unless you
choose. Is he, Gabriella?"

"I certainly should not think of going without him," I answered, vexed
to discover how much I really wished to go.

"But you wish to go,--you know you do. Poor, dear little soul! You have
never been anywhere,--you have seen nothing,--you live as close and
demure as a church mouse,--while this man-monster, who has nothing in
the universe to do, from morning till night, but wait upon you and
contribute to your gratification, keeps you at home, like a bird in a
cage, just to look at and admire. It is too selfish. If _you_ will not
tell him so, _I_ will. He shall hear the truth fro