"You have three passions, music, flowers, and poetry," said he, with a smile that seemed to mock the extravagance of my language, "which is the regal one, the passion of passions?" "I can hardly imagine the existence of one without the other," I answered, "their harmony is so entire; flowers are silent poetry, and poetry is written music." "And music?" he asked. "Is the breath of heaven, the language of angels. As the voice of Echo lingered in the woods, where she loved to wander, when her beauteous frame had vanished, so music remains to show the angel nature we have lost." I blushed at having said so much, but the triune passion warmed my soul. "Gabriella is a poetess herself," said Edith, "and may well speak of the magic of numbers. She has a portfolio, filled with papers written, like Ezekiel's scroll, within and without. I wish you would let me get it, Gabriella,--do." "Impossible!" I answered, "I never wrote but one poem for exhibition, and the experience of that hour was sufficient for a lifetime." "You were but a child then, Gabriella. Mr. Regulus would give it a very different reception now, I know he would," said Edith. "If it is a child's story, will you not relate it?" asked Ernest; "you have excited my curiosity." "Curiosity, brother, I thought you possessed none." "Interest is a better word. If I understand aright, the buddings of Gabriella's genius met with an untimely blight." I know not how it was, but I felt in an exceedingly ingenuous mood, and I related this episode in my childish history without reserve. I touched lightly on the championship of Richard Clyde, but I was obliged to introduce it. I had forgotten that he was associated with the narration, or I should have been silent. "This youthful knight, and the hero of commencement day are one, then," observed Ernest. "He is a fortunate youth, with the myrtle and the laurel both entwining his brows; you must be proud of your champion." "I am _grateful_ to him," I replied, resolved to make a bold effort to remove the impression I knew he had received. Mrs. Linwood was not present, or I could not have spoken as I did. "He defended me because he thought I was oppressed; he befriended me because my friends were few. He has the generous spirit of chivalry which cannot see wrong without seeking to redress it, or suffering without wishing to relieve it. I am under unspeakable obligations to him, for he it was who spoke kindly of the obscure little girl to your mother and sister, and obtained for me the priceless blessing of their love." "I dare say _they_ feel very grateful to him, likewise," said he, in a tone of genuine feeling. "I acknowledge _my_ share of the obligation. But is he so disinterested as to claim no recompense, or does he find that chivalry, like goodness, is its own exceeding great reward?" "I thought I regarded him as a brother, till now Edith has convinced me I am mistaken."