iamentary office for a living may live by it,
but he will have but a dog's life of it."

"If I were you, Mr. Finn, I certainly would not choose a dog's life."

He said not a word to her on that occasion about herself, having made
up his mind that a certain period of the following day should be
chosen for the purpose, and he had hardly yet arranged in his mind
what words he would use on that occasion. It seemed to him that there
would be so much to be said that he must settle beforehand some order
of saying it. It was not as though he had merely to tell her of his
love. There had been talk of love between them before, on which
occasion he had been compelled to tell her that he could not accept
that which she offered to him. It would be impossible, he knew, not
to refer to that former conversation. And then he had to tell her
that he, now coming to her as a suitor and knowing her to be a very
rich woman, was himself all but penniless. He was sure, or almost
sure, that she was as well aware of this fact as he was himself; but,
nevertheless, it was necessary that he should tell her of it,--and if
possible so tell her as to force her to believe him when he assured
her that he asked her to be his wife, not because she was rich, but
because he loved her. It was impossible that all this should be said
as they sat side by side in the drawing-room with a crowd of people
almost within hearing, and Madame Goesler had just been called upon
to play, which she always did directly she was asked. He was invited
to make up a rubber, but he could not bring himself to care for cards
at the present moment. So he sat apart and listened to the music.

If all things went right with him to-morrow that music,--or the
musician who made it,--would be his own for the rest of his life. Was
he justified in expecting that she would give him so much? Of her
great regard for him as a friend he had no doubt. She had shown it in
various ways, and after a fashion that had made it known to all the
world. But so had Lady Laura regarded him when he first told her of
his love at Loughlinter. She had been his dearest friend, but she had
declined to become his wife; and it had been partly so with Violet
Effingham, whose friendship to him had been so sweet as to make him
for a while almost think that there was more than friendship. Marie
Goesler had certainly once loved him;--but so had he once loved Laura
Standish. He had been wretched for a while because Lady