He entered the bedchamber, leaving the housekeeper at the door. CHAPTER XII. "SHOW ME THE WAY." A single lamp stood on a table, near a bed which was surmounted by a canopy of silken curtains. The room was spacious and elegant; chairs, carpet, the marble mantle, elaborately carved, and the ceiling adorned with an elaborate painting,--all served to show that the merchant prince slept in a "place of state." Every detail of that richly-furnished apartment, said "Gold!" as plainly as though a voice was speaking it all the while. His lean form, attired in every-day apparel, was stretched upon the bed, and through the aperture in the curtains, the lamp-light fell upon one side of his face. He appeared to be sleeping. His arms lay listlessly by his side, and his head was thrown back upon the pillow. His breathing was audible in the most distant corner of the chamber. "Gulian," said Tarleton, who seemed to recover his usual strength and spirit, as soon as he entered the room, "Where are you, my dear?" The slight form of the private secretary advanced from among the curtains at the foot of the bed. His face, almost feminine in its expression, appeared in the light, with tears glistening on the cheeks. It was a beautiful face, illumined by large, clear eyes, and framed in the wavy hair, which flowed in rich masses to his shoulders. At sight of the elegant Colonel, the blue eyes of the boy shone with a look of terror. He started back, folding his hands over the frock coat, which enveloped his boyish shape. "Ah, my God,--you here!" was his exclamation, "when will you cease to persecute me?" The Colonel smiled, patted his elegant whiskers, and drawing nearer to the boy, who seemed to _cringe_ away from his touch, he said in his blandest tone,-- "Persecute you! Well, that is clever!--Talk of gratitude again in this world! I took you when you were a miserable foundling, a wretched little baby, without father, mother, or name. I placed you in the quiet of a country town, where you received an elegant education. I gave you a name,--a fancy name, I admit--the name which you now wear--and when I visited you, once or twice a year, you called me by the name of father. How I gained money to support you these nineteen or twenty years, and to adorn that fine intellect of yours, with a finished education,--why, you don't know, and I scarcely can tell, myself. But after these years of protection and support, I appeared at your home in the country, and asked a simple favor at your hands. Ay, child, the man you delighted to call father asked in return for all that he had done for you, a favor--only one favor--and that of the simplest character. Where was your gratitude? You refused me; you fled from your home in the country, and I lost sight of you until to-night, when I find my lost lamb, in the employment of the rich merchant. His private secretary, forsooth!"