You are the inspiration of the
poetical trifles that I send to the weekly newspapers, and which I may
say, without vanity, are considered equal to Mrs. Sigourney's. Without
you, life were indeed a dreary void; and without you, I should be
dreadfully bored of a morning.'
'Ah, Percy,' murmured the fair listener, 'so could I hear you talk
forever.'
'Bella,' whispered Roseton, in her fairy ear, 'could you prepare your
mind to entertain the idea of flight with me?'
'To Staten Island?' cried she, jumping up and clapping her hands. 'Oh,
let's go to Staten Island! Mundus can never follow us there, the boats
are so dangerous.'
'But, Bella _mia_' said Roseton, in the soft accent of Italy, 'as the
eminent but slightly impractical Hungarian--I refer to Kossuth--said,
Staten Island "is lovely, but exposed." We should not be safe there.
Listen; in my house I have prepared a secret chamber, fifty feet square,
plentifully supplied with healthful though plain provisions, and
furnished with a tolerable degree of comfort. There will we dwell, until
the curiosity of Mundus and the whispers of the metropolis are overpast.
We will then re-appear in society, and assert our happiness. Bella,
_mia_ Bella, shall it be so?'
'Ah, Percy,' sighed she, leaning back in his arms, 'let it be just as
you say.
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