destiny
created quite a sensation in the circle in which he moved. It seemed
impossible to do without him. He was as much a part of the academy as
the colossal pen, whose gilded feathers still swept the blue of ether.
Were it not for the blight that had fallen on my social joys, I should
have mourned the loss of this steadfast friend of my orphan years; but
now I could not regret it. The mildew of suspicion rested on our
intercourse, and all its pleasant bloom was blasted. He was in Boston.
Had he gone to ask the dauntless Meg to be the companion of his life, in
the more exalted sphere in which he was about to move? And would she
indeed suffer her "wild heart to be tamed by a loving hand?"

What delightful evenings we might now have enjoyed had not the dark
passion of Ernest thrown such a chilling shadow over the household!
Richard came almost every night, for it was his _home_. He loved and
reverenced Mrs. Linwood, as if she were his own mother. Edith was to him
as a sweet and gentle sister; and though never by word or action he
manifested a feeling for me which I might not sanction and return as the
wife of another, I knew, that no one had supplanted me in his
affections, that I was still the Gabriella whom he had enshrined in his
boyish heart,--in "all save hope the same." He saw that I was unhappy,
and he pitied me. The bright sparkle of his eye always seemed quenched
when it turned to me, and his voice when it addressed me had a gentler,
more subdued tone. But his spirit was so sparkling, so elastic, his
manners so kind and winning, his conversation so easy and graceful, it
was impossible for sadness or constraint to dwell long in his presence.
Did I never contrast his sunny temper, his unselfish disposition, his
happy, genial temperament, with the darkness and moodiness and despotism
of Ernest? Did I never sigh that I had not given my young heart to one
who would have trusted me even as he loved, and surrounded me with a
golden atmosphere of confidence, calm and beautiful as an unclouded
autumn sky? Did I not tremble at the thought of passing my whole life in
the midst of the tropic storms, the thunders and lightnings of passions?

And yet I loved Ernest with all the intensity of my first affection. I
would have sacrificed my life to have given peace to his troubled and
warring spirit. His self-imposed sufferings almost maddened me. My
heart, as it secretly clung to him and followed his lonely steps as,
faithful