"You owe me nothing," said he, and I could not help noticing an unwonted trepidation in his manner, and on one sallow cheek a deep flush was spreading. "Long years of kindness, tenfold to mine, could not atone for the harshness and injustice of which I was once guilty. You will go into the world and blush like Waller's rose, to be so admired. You will be surrounded by new friends, new lovers, and look back to these walls as to a prison-house, and to me, as the grim jailer of your youth." "No indeed, Mr. Regulus; you wrong yourself and me. Memory will hang many a sweet garland on these classic walls, and will turn gratefully to you, as the benefactor of my childhood, the mentor of my growing years." My voice choked. A strange dread took possession of me, he looked so agitated, so little like himself. His hand trembled so that it dropped the ruler, that powerful hand, in whose strong grasp I had seen the pale delinquent writhe in terror. I hardly know what I dreaded, but the air seemed thick and oppressive, and I longed to escape into the open sunshine. "Gabriella, my child," said he, "wait one moment. I did not think it would require so much courage to confess so much weakness. I have been indulging in dreams so wild, yet so sweet, that I fear to breathe them, knowing that I must wake to the cold realities of life. I know not how it is, but you have twined yourself about my heart so gradually, so gently, but so strongly, that I cannot separate you from it. A young and fragrant vine, you have covered it with beauty and freshness. You have diffused within it an atmosphere of spring. You thought the cold mathematician, the stern philosopher could not feel, but I tell thee, child, we are the very ones that _can_ and _do_ feel. There is as much difference between our love and the boyish passion which passes for love, as there is between the flash of the glowworm and the welding heat that fuses bars of steel. Oh! Gabriella, do not laugh at this confession, or deem it lightly made. I hope nothing,--I ask nothing; and yet if you could,--if you would trust your orphan youth to my keeping, I would guard it as the most sacred trust God ever gave to man." He paused from intense emotion, and wiped the drops of perspiration from his forehead, while I stood ready to sink with shame and sorrow. No glow of triumph, no elation of grateful vanity warmed my heart, or exalted my pride. I felt humbled, depressed. Where I had been accustomed to look up with respect, I could not bear to look down in pity, it was so strange, so unexpected. I was stunned, bewildered. The mountain had lost its crown,--it had fallen in an avalanche at my feet.