nt to hear their love," said Rachel. "Dear Ada, and
dear Edith! Why don't you tell me their love?"

"My poor sick girl," he said, laying his hand upon her shoulder, and
looking into her eyes.

"Never mind my sickness. I know I am as thin and as wan as an ogre.
Nevertheless, I care for their love."

"Rachel, do you care for mine?"

"I haven't got it! Oh, Frank, why don't you speak to me? You have
spoken a word, just a word, and all the blood is coming back to my
veins already."

"Dearest, dearest, dearest Rachel."

"Now you have spoken; now you have told me of your sisters and your
father. Now I know it all! Now my father may come in."

"Do you love me, then?"

"Love you! That question you know to be unnecessary. Love you! Why
I spend every day and every night in loving you! But, Frank, you
wouldn't have me when I was going to be rich. I ought not to have
you now that I am to be poor." But by this time she was in his arms
and he was kissing her, till, as she had said, the blood was once
again running in her veins. "Oh, Frank, what a tyrant you are! Did
I not tell you to let poor father come into the room? You have said
everything now. There cannot be another word to say. Frank, Frank,
Frank! I have found it out at last. I cannot live without you."

"But how are you to live with me? There is no money."

"Bother money. Wealth is sordid. Washing stockings over a tub is the
only life for me,--so long as I have you to come back to me."

"And your health?"

"I tell you it is done. I was merely sick of the Jones complaint. Oh,
heavens! how I can hate people, and how I can love them!" Then she
threw herself on the sofa, absolutely worn out by the violence of her
emotions.

Mr. O'Mahony was commissioned, and sat down by his girl's side to
comfort her. But she wanted no comforting. "So you and Frank have
made it up, have you?" said Mr. O'Mahony.

"We have never quarrelled so far as I am concerned," said Frank. "The
moment I heard Lord Castlewell was dismissed, I came back."

"Yes," said she, raising herself half up on the sofa. "Do you know
his story, father? It is rather a nice story for a girl to hear of
her own lover, and to feel that it is true. When I was about to make
I don't know how many thousand dollars a year by my singing, he would
not come and take his share of it. Then I have to think of my own
disgrace. But it enhances his glory. Because he was gone, I brought
myself to accept this lord."

"Now,