he
was about to crown with a right royal diadem. While I thus sat, I heard
footsteps quick and eager echoing behind, and Richard Clyde bounded down
the slope and threw himself on the ground at my side.

"Thank heaven," he exclaimed, "I have found you, Gabriella, and found
you alone!"

His manner was hurried and agitated, his eyes had a wild expression, and
tossing aside his hat, he wiped thick-coming drops of perspiration from
his forehead.

His words, and the unusual excitement of his manner, alarmed me.

"What has happened, Richard? Where have you sought me? What tidings have
you to communicate? Speak, and tell me, for I tremble with fear."

"I am so agitated," he cried, sitting down on the rock at my side, and
taking one of my hands in his. I started, for his was so icy cold and
tremulous, and his face was as pale as Ernest's. He looked like one who
had escaped some terrible danger, and in whose bosom horror and
gratitude were struggling for mastery.

"Is it of Ernest you have come to tell me?" I asked, with blanched lips.

"No, no, no! I know nothing of him. It is of myself,--of you, I would
speak. I have just made the most astonishing discovery! Never till now
have I heard your real name and early history. O! Gabriella you whom I
have loved so long with such fervor, such passion, such idolatry,--you
(O righteous God forgive me!) are the daughter of my father,--for
Theresa La Fontaine was my own mother. Gabriella,--sister,--beloved!"

He clasped me to his bosom; he kissed me again and again, weeping and
sobbing like a child. In broken words he deplored his sinful passion,
entreating me to forgive him, to love him as a brother, to cling to him
as a friend, and feel that there was one who would live to protect, or
die to defend me. Bewildered and enraptured by this most unthought of
and astounding discovery, my heart acknowledged its truth and glowed
with gratitude and joy. Richard, the noble-hearted, gallant Richard, was
my brother! My soul's desire was satisfied. How I had yearned for a
brother! and to find him,--and such a brother! Oh I joy unspeakable. Oh!
how strange,--how passing strange,--how almost passing credulity!

At any moment this discovery would have been welcomed with rapture. But
now, when the voluntary estrangement of Ernest had thrown my warm
affections back for the time into my own bosom, to pine for want of
cherishing, it came like a burst of sunshine after a long and dreary
darkness,--l