My own heart palpitated with strange emotions, with mingled curiosity, eagerness, and dread.
"Dear Edith," I cried, putting my arms around her, and kissing her fair, infantine cheek, "I rejoice with you,--I could envy you if I dared.

What a blessing it must be to have a brother capable of inspiring so much love!" "He shall be your brother too, Gabriella! For, are you not my sister?
and of course he must be your brother.

Come, let us sit down under the dear old elm and talk about him, for my heart is so full that I can speak and think of nothing else." "And now," added she, as we sat under the kingly canopy of verdure,--on a carpet of living velvet,--"let me tell you why I love Ernest so very, very dearly.

My father died when I was a little child, a little feeble child, a cripple as well as an invalid.

Ernest is four years older than myself, and though when I was a little child he was but a very young boy, he always seemed a protector and guardian to me.