to be most contemptible and gracious.

"I have been so extremely sorry to hear of your illness, my dear
young lady."

Her grandeur departed from her all at once. To be called this man's
"dear young lady" was insufferable. And grandeur did not come easily
to her, though wit and sarcasm did.

"Your dear young lady, as you please to call her, has had a bad time
of it."

"In memory of the old days I called you so, Miss O'Mahony. You and I
used to be thrown much together."

"You and I will never be thrown together again, as my singing is all
over."

"It may be so and it may not."

"It is over, at any rate as far as the London theatres go,--as far as
you and I go.

"I hope not."

"I tell you it is. I am going back to New York at once, and do not
think I shall sing another note as long as I live. I'm going to learn
to cook dishes for papa, and we mean to settle down together."

"I hope not," he repeated.

"Very well; but at any rate I must say good-bye to you. I am very
weak, and cannot do much in the talking line."

Then she got up and stood before him, as though determined to wish
him good-bye. She was in truth weak, but she was minded to stand
there till he should have gone.

"My dear Miss O'Mahony, if you would sit down for a moment, I have a
proposition to make to you. I think that it is one to which you may
be induced to listen."

Then she did sit down, knowing that she would want the strength which
rest would give her. The conversation with Mr. Moss might probably
be prolonged. He also sat down at a little distance, and held his
shining new hat dangling between his knees. It was part of her
quarrel with him that he had always on a new hat.

"Your marriage with Lord Castlewell, I believe, is off."

"Just so."

"And also your marriage with Mr. Jones?"

"No doubt. All my marriages are off. I don't mean to be married at
all. I tell you I'm going home to keep house for my father."

"Keep house for me," said Mr. Moss.

"I would rather keep house for the devil," said Rachel, rising from
her chair in wrath.

"Vy?--vy?"--Mr. Moss was reduced by his eagerness and enthusiasm to
his primitive mode of speaking--"Vat is it that you shall want of a
man but that he shall love you truly? I come here ready to marry you,
and to take my chance in all things. You say your voice is gone. I am
here ready to take the risk. Lord Castlewell will not have you, but
I will take you." Now he had risen from his chair,