“Was ever any thing out of Heaven so wondrous beautiful! And is that exquisite creature, at some day or other, to be mine, my own? Upon my life and conscience it may be so, for I see nothing to prevent it! Come! even if to wait five years for her, were not the quickest, easiest, and surest way of securing an immense fortune, it would still be well worth while to wait to secure such a pearl as herself alone!” mused Julius Luxmore, as he came out of his retreat, and pushed his boat onward on his exploration of the Island shores. After making about three-quarters of the whole circuit, he came to the regular landing-place with its neat little pier, the protective railings and the steps of which were painted green and white. Here he moored his boat and paused to consider the propriety of, at that late hour, presenting himself at the Island mansion. The sun had set; but the reflection of his last rays still flushed with crimson all the western horizon, while the orient was bathed in golden glory with the beams of the risen full moon. Under the two lights the lovely Island lay like a scene of enchantment. Lamps gleamed from the lower windows of the white fronted mansion. Upon the whole, Julius Luxmore could not resist the temptation to go forward. He looked critically at his own dress. In view of this possible visit he had, before leaving the vessel, carefully arranged his toilet; and now upon examination, he found that it had contracted no soil, nor in any other way had it become disarranged. He stepped out of his boat, went up the steps to the pier and walked onward under the tall branches of the trees, that met over his head, up the long avenue leading to the house, until at last he reached a terrace crowned with a trellis, thickly overgrown with climbing roses, still in full bloom. He had but just reached this spot and noted a graceful, golden-haired, white-robed female form leaning over the trellis of roses, when he was suddenly struck and thrown down beneath an overwhelming weight, to find himself in the powerful grasp of a huge bull-dog, who had fastened his jaws firmly on his shoulder. Tightly as the beast held him, it was with a certain wise and merciful reserve of his fangs, for though his strong teeth clenched, they did not penetrate the broadcloth of the coat, far less the skin of the man. Yet Julius Luxmore felt certain that at the first struggle to escape, those fearful fangs would be buried deeply in his flesh and crimsoned with his blood. All this passed in a single instant of time, for, “in the twinkling of an eye,” the white-robed female figure, whom Luxmore had recognized as Etoile, darted down the terrace, and threw herself upon the great brute, half-caressingly and half-rebukingly, and said— “Why, Dragon! how dare you, sir? What ails you? Let go, this moment!” But the huge beast, without relaxing his hold, rolled his blood-shot eyes up toward his little mistress, and growled a remonstrance.