these memories."

There was a tone of sadness in her voice, very slight, very faint,
indeed, but still enough to tinge these few words with melancholy.

"And what is all this writing about?" said he, moving his hands through
the papers. "Are you composing a book, Dolly?"

"No," said she, timidly; "I am only translating a little German story.
When I was up in London, I was lucky enough to obtain the insertion of
a little fairy tale in a small periodical meant for children, and the
editor encouraged me to try and render one of Andersen's stories; but
I am a very sorry German, and, I fear me, a still sorrier prose writer;
and so, Tony, the work goes on as slowly as that bridge of ours used
long ago. Do you remember when it was made, we never had the courage to
pass over it! Mayhap it will be the same with my poor story, and when
finished, it will remain unread."

"But why do you encounter such a piece of labor?" said he. "This must
have taken a week or more."

"A month yesterday, my good Tony; and very proud I am, too, that I did
it in a month."

"And for what, in heaven's name?"

"For three bright sovereigns, Master Tony!" said she, blushing.

"Oh, I didn't mean that," said he, in deep shame and confusion. "I meant
only, why did you engage on such a hard task."

"I know you did n't mean it, Tony; but I was so proud of my success
as an author it would out. Yes," said she, with a feigned air of
importance, "I have just disposed of my copyright; and you know, Tony,
Milton did not get a great deal more for 'Paradise Lost.' You see,"
added she, seriously, "what with poor papa's age and his loneliness, and
my own not over-great strength, I don't think I shall try (at least, not
soon) to be a governess again; and it behoves me to be as little as I
can of a burden to him; and after thinking of various things, I have
settled upon this as the best."

"What a good girl you are!" said he, and he fixed his eyes full upon
her; nor did he know how admiringly, till he saw that her face, her
forehead, and even her neck were crimson with shame and confusion.

"There is no such great goodness, in doing what is simply one's duty,"
said she, gravely.

"I don't know that, Dolly."

"Come, come, Tony, you never fancied yourself a hero, just because you
are willing to earn your bread, and ready to do so by some sacrifice of
your tastes and habits."

The allusion recalled Tony to himself and his own cares, and after a few
second