The gondola glided on. Beneath its black awning,–extended at full length upon its black leather cushions,–lay a young man, clothed in a suit of deep mourning. But in his face there was nothing that assorted with these swart environments. No shadow, save the one from the sad-colored curtains, darkened the countenance, which was radiant with hopeful happy thoughts. No regret for the past, no misgiving of the future, cast a single cloud athwart the sunshine of his fancy, reflected so beamingly in his look. For though the suit he wore was for a father, yet so harsh a parent, so unreasonable a tyrant had that father been, that his recent decease was felt to be emancipation from slavery, rather than a loss and a sorrow. Death had freed the young man from a more intolerable bondage than that of body–thraldom of spirit; and he was now hastening to claim the dearest privilege of human liberty–choice in love, in marriage,–which had hitherto been denied to him. In deference to his father's will, in dread of his father's power,–which would not have hesitated at aught that could secure their sway,–this young man had carefully concealed an attachment he had conceived for a very beautiful girl of humble fortunes, and the marriage to which this attachment had led.