the
nature of the other. I have heard Joe Atlee say, "With that woman for a
wife, a man might safely bet on his success in life." And she herself one
day owned, "If a girl was obliged to marry a man without sixpence, she
might take Atlee."'

'So, I have it, they will be man and wife yet!'

'Who knows! Have another weed?'

Gorman declined the offered cigar, and again a pause in the conversation
followed. At last he suddenly said, 'She told me she thought she would
marry Walpole.'

'She told _you_ that? How did it come about to make _you_ such a
confidence?'

'Just this way. I was getting a little--not spooney--but attentive, and
rather liked hanging after her; and in one of our walks in the wood--and
there was no flirting at the time between us--she suddenly said, "I don't
think you are half a bad fellow, lieutenant." "Thanks for the compliment,"
said I coldly. She never heeded my remark, but went on, "I mean, in fact,
that if you had something to live for, and somebody to care about, there
is just the sort of stuff in you to make you equal to both." Not exactly
knowing what I said, and half, only half in earnest, I answered, "Why can I
not have one to care for?" And I looked tenderly into her eyes as I spoke.
She did not wince under my glance. Her face was calm, and her colour did
not change; and she was full a minute before she said, with a faint sigh,
"I suppose I shall marry Cecil Walpole." "Do you mean," said I, "against
your will?" "Who told you I had a will, sir?" said she haughtily; "or that
if I had, I should now be walking here in this wood alone with you? No,
no," added she hurriedly, "you cannot understand me. There is nothing to be
offended at. Go and gather me some of those wild flowers, and we'll talk of
something else."'

'How like her!--how like her!' said Dick, and then looked sad and pondered.
'I was very near falling in love with her myself!' said he, after a
considerable pause.

'She has a way of curing a man if he should get into such an indiscretion,'
muttered Gorman, and there was bitterness in his voice as he spoke.

'Listen! listen to that!' and from an open window of the house there came
the prolonged cadence of a full sweet voice, as Nina was singing an Irish
ballad air. 'That's for my father! "Kathleen Mavourneen" is one of his
favourites, and she can make him cry over it.'

'I'm not very soft-hearted,' muttered Gorman, 'but she gave me a sense of
fulness in the throat, like choki