“What cheer! what cheer!” cried a voice, that was more in harmony with the appearance of the speaker, than with the rough, professional salutation he uttered, so soon as he had fairly landed in the centre of Alida’s little saloon. “Come forth, my dealer in the covering of the beaver, for here is one who brings gold to thy coffers. Ha! now that this trio of lights hath done its office, it may be extinguished, lest it pilot others to the forbidden haven!” “Your pardon, sir,” said the mistress of the pavilion, advancing from behind the curtain, with an air of coolness that her beating heart had nigh betrayed to be counterfeit; “having so unexpected a guest to entertain, the additional candles are necessary.” The start, recoil, and evident alarm of the intruder, lent Alida a little more assurance; for courage is a quality that appears to gain force, in a degree proportioned to the amount in which it is abstracted from the dreaded object. Still, when she saw a hand on a pistol, the maiden was again about to flee; nor was her resolution to remain confirmed, until she met the mild and alluring eye of the intruder, as, quitting his hold of the weapon, he advanced with an air so mild and graceful, as to cause curiosity to take the place of fear. “Though Alderman Van Beverout be not punctual to his appointment,” said the gay young stranger “he has more than atoned for his absence by the substitute he sends. I hope she comes authorized to arrange the whole of our treaty?” “I claim no right to hear, or to dictate, in matters not my own. My utmost powers extend to expressing a desire, that this pavilion may be exempt from the discussion of affairs, as much beyond my knowledge as they are separated from my interests.” “Then why this signal?” demanded the stranger, pointing, with a serious air, to the lights that still burned near each other in face of an open window “It is awkward to mislead, in transactions that are so delicate!” “Your allusion, sir, is not understood. These lights are no more than what are usually seen in my apartment at this hour—with, indeed, the addition of a lamp, left by my uncle, Alderman Van Beverout.” “Your uncle!” exclaimed the other, advancing so near Alida, as to cause her to retire a step, his countenance expressing a deep and newly-awakened interest—“your uncle!—This, then, is one far-famed and justly extolled; la belle Barbérie!” he added, gallantly lifting his cap, as if he had just discovered the condition and the unusual personal attractions of his companion.