“What, sir! you will not obey?” exclaimed the little girl, taking hold of his ears, and shaking his head. The dog released the prisoner, but growled a very decided difference of opinion with his mistress upon this subject of setting the stranger at liberty. Julius Luxmore, who had at all hazards struggled to rise, now sprang to his feet, bowed, and was about to deliver the neat salutation he had improvised for the occasion, when Etoile interrupted him by saying, with inimitable grace and simplicity— “Stranger, I am very sorry that Dragon should have behaved so rudely; I pray you to forgive him; he is not naturally wicked, and must have been very unwell to have acted in such a surly manner to a visitor. I hope you will think no more of it, sir, but do us the pleasure to walk into the house.” “I thank you, young lady,” said Julius Luxmore, with a bow, “I am here to see Mr. De L’Ile, if he can be spoken with.” “Yes, sir! and your name is——?” “Julius Luxmore.” The little girl raised a small silver whistle that hung at her side, and blew a clear, sweet blast, that presently brought a mulatto page to her presence. “Go to your master, Frivola, and say that a gentleman of the name of Luxmore has arrived, and desires an interview with him,” she said. The boy bowed low, and went to obey. “Excuse me, young lady,” said Mr. Luxmore, with a waive of his hand, as he left the side of Etoile, and stepped after the page to say, “Tell your master that Mr. Luxmore brings him news of his niece and nephew, Madame L’Orient and Monsieur Victoire.” Again the boy bowed, and then hurried onward toward the house to do his errand. Mr. Luxmore returned to the side of the little maiden. “What a paradise is this home of yours, young lady,” he said, in a tone of sincere admiration. “Oh! do you find it so? I am very glad you like it; but it is very strange you should!” “You think it strange that I should like this charming spot!” exclaimed Luxmore, in genuine surprise. “Do you find it charming also? How curious!” “Why, yes! Do not _you_ think it charming?” “Oh, certainly, _I_ do! but you perceive I know nothing better than this! But it is very strange that _you_ should find the Isle so charming?” “But why?” “Oh! because _you_ came from the beautiful world beyond!” said Etoile, with a sigh of aspiration. “Ah! and you think the world beyond so beautiful?” “Oh, yes, sir! I think it is!” “Again—why?” “Oh, because I know it!—it is a beautiful! a glorious! an enchanting world, beyond these seas!” “But how do you know it, my little angel?” “Oh, sir! I can see from here its lovely shores! vaguely, indeed; but still, I _can_ see them, and can judge what their celestial beauty on a nearer view must be!”