They were married; and then, as some priceless jewel committed to his charge, which to guard and cherish was henceforth to be his pride and happiness did Abel May bear home the young orphan. For many years he had occupied a large mansion near the outskirts of the city, whose dark granite front and heavy wooden shutters kept constantly closed, imparted an air of chilliness and gloom to the neighborhood of flashy brick houses and light airy cottages by which it was environed. Abel May lived alone, keeping no domestics, and either preparing his own meals, or partaking of them at a restaurateur’s. Occasionally the woman whom he employed to do his washing was admitted to sweep and arrange his sleeping room and the little parlor adjoining. The other apartments were always locked, baffling all the curiosity of which no doubt the good woman partook with others. Various opinions and rumors were afloat concerning him in the neighborhood, through which however the old man steered steadily and regardlessly. Not greater was the surprise of the captive princess in the fairy tale on awakening one morning and finding before her window a sumptuous palace rearing high its golden columns, where alone frowning rocks and dark, turbid waters had before stood, than was the amazement which pervaded the neighborhood, when early one morning they were aroused from slumber by the _clink—clink—clink_ of the busy hammer, the crashing of tiles, and sonorous fall of boards upon the pavements. And behold, every window of that gloomy house was thrown wide to the glare of day—workmen were on the roof—workmen were scaling ladders—workmen were tearing off those clumsy shutters, while within, workmen in paper caps and white aprons were busily wielding the several instruments of their handicraft. Day after day their labors went on, and day after day added to the astonishment of the neighbors. Plate-glass and light Venetian blinds soon supplanted the small window panes and wooden shutters—a tasteful portico and marble slabs supplied the place of the clumsy iron railing and high stone steps so jagged and worn. Carpenters, masons, and painters speedily completed the interior renovation, and then followed heavily laden drays bearing rich furniture—and upholsterers flew from room to room giving the last graceful touch of taste and fashion to the arrangement of the various articles. Next came the overwhelming announcement that old Abel May was married, and that the sylph-like, graceful form, and sunny ringlets of the fair young girl sometimes seen bending from the window, or leaning on the arm of the old man, like a lily grafted on some withered branch, belonged to no other than the bride—and wonder ceased not, but rather grew with the “food it fed on.”