the mighty ocean is to a placid lake, and with such love one ought
to be panoplied as with resisting steel."

A stream of light and music met him, as he went up the stoop of the
house that held his treasure. It seemed to intoxicate him. Glow, melody
and perfume, were so many expressions of Paula. His friends, of whom
there were many present, received him with tokens of respect, not
unmingled with surprise. It was the first time he had been seen in
public since his wife's death, and they could not but remark upon the
cheerfulness of his bearing, and the almost exalted expression of his
proud and restless eye. Had Paula accompanied him, they might have
understood his emotion, but with the beautiful girl under the care of
one of the most eligible gentlemen in town, what could have happened to
Mr. Sylvester to make his once melancholy countenance blazon like a star
amid this joyous and merrily-laughing throng. He did not enlighten them,
but moved from group to group, searching for Paula. Suddenly the thought
flashed upon him, "Is it only an hour or so since I smiled upon her in
my own hall, and shook my head when she asked me with a quick, pleading
look, to come with them to this very spot?" It seemed days, since that
time. The rush of these new thoughts, the final making up of this
slowly-maturing purpose, the sudden allowing of his heart to regard her
as a woman to be won, had carried the past away as by the sweep of a
mountain torrent. He could not believe he had ever known a moment of
hesitancy, ever looked at her as a father, ever bid her go on her way
and leave the prisoner to his fate. He must always have felt like this;
such momentum could not have been gathered in an hour; she must know
that he loved her wildly, deeply, sacredly, wholly, with the fibre of
his mind, his body and his soul; that to call her his in life and in
death, was the one demanding passion of his existence, making the past a
dream, and the future--ah, he dared not question that! He must behold
her face before he could even speculate upon the realities lying behind
fate's down-drawn curtain.

Meanwhile fair faces and lovely forms flitted before him, carrying his
glance along in their train, but only because youth was a symbol of
Paula. If these fresh young girls could smile and look back upon him,
with that lingering glance which his presence ever invoked, why not she
who was not only sweet, tender, and lovely, but gifted with a nature
that res