"We are at peace," he answered. "You know the conditions, now; and I
trust will respect them."

"We are all going to Niblo's," she cried eagerly; "that is one
condition."

"Certainly," he answered; and he could not help smiling at the
adroitness with which she changed positions with him.

"Will you really like to go, Gabriella?" he asked, turning to me; and
his countenance beamed with all its wonted tenderness.

"Oh, yes, indeed I will. I am sure it will be delightful."

"And have you ever desired to partake of pleasures, without telling me
of your wishes?"

"I do not know that I can call the transient emotion I have felt, a
desire," I answered; blushing that I had ever cherished thoughts which I
was unwilling to disclose. "I believe curiosity is natural to youth and
inexperience."

"Perfect love casteth out fear, Gabriella. You must promise to tell me
every wish of your heart; and be assured, if consistent with reason, it
shall be gratified."

Delighted at so pleasant a termination to so inauspicious a beginning, I
looked forward to the evening's entertainment with bright and elastic
spirits. Once, as my eye rested on the fragments of pearl, I sighed to
think how easily the pearls of sensibility, as well as all the frail and
delicate treasures of life, might be crushed by the hand of passion.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

I was surprised, when I found myself in a lofty dome, brilliantly
illuminated by gas, instead of the ample flower-garden my imagination
had described. I hardly know what idea I had formed; but I expected to
be seated in the open air, in the midst of blossoming plants, and
singing birds, and trees, on whose branches variegated lamps were
burning. Ernest smiled when I told him of my disappointment.

"So it is with the illusions of life," said he. "They all pass away. The
garden which you passed before the entrance, has given its name to the
place; and even that, the encroaching steps of business will trample
on."

Mr. Harland escorted Meg, who was in exuberant spirits, and as usual
attracted the public gaze by her dashing and reckless demeanor.
Conspicuous, from her superior height, her large, roving black eyes, and
her opera cloak of brilliant cherry color, I felt sheltered from
observation in her vicinity, and hoped that Ernest would find I could
mingle in public scenes without drawing any peculiar attention. Indeed,
I was so absorbed by the graceful and expressive pantomime, the novelty