ave only to say, that,
however honored by your proposal, it is one I must decline."

"Would n't you tell me why, darling? Would n't you say your reasons, my
angel? Don't shake your head, my adored creature, but turn this way, and
say, 'Gorman, your affection touches me: I see your love for me; but
I 'm afraid of you: you 're light and fickle and inconstant; you 're
spoiled by flattery among the women, and deference and respect amongst
the men. What can I hope from a nature so pampered?'"

"No, in good truth, Mr. O'Shea, not one of these objections have
occurred to me; my answer was dictated by much narrower and more
selfish considerations. At all events, sir, it is final; and I need
only appeal to your sense of good-breeding never to resume a subject I
have told you is distasteful to me." And with a heightened color, and a
glance which certainly betokened no softness, she turned away and left
him.

"Distasteful! distasteful!" muttered he over her last words. "Women!
women! women! there's no knowing ye--the devil a bit! What you 'd
like, and what you would n't is as great a secret as the philosopher's
stone! Heigho!" sighed he, as he opened his cravat, and drew in a long
breath. "I did n't take a canter like that, these five years, and it has
sent all the blood to my head. I hope she 'll not mention it. I hope she
won't tell it to the widow," muttered he, as he walked to the window
for air. "_She's_ the one would take her own fun out of it. Upon my
conscience, this is mighty like apoplexy," said he, as, sitting down, he
fanned himself with a book.

"Poor Mr. O'Shea!" said a soft voice; and, looking up, he saw Mrs.
Morris, as, leaning over the back of his chair, she bent on him a look
half quizzical and half compassionate. "Poor Mr. O'Shea!"

"Why so? How?" asked he, with an affected Jocularity. "Well," said
she, with a faint sigh, "you 're not the first man has drawn a blank in
the lottery." "I suppose not," muttered he, half sulkily. "Nor will it
prevent you trying your luck another time," said she, in the same tone.

"What did she say? How did she mention it?" whispered he,
confidentially.

"She did n't believe you were serious at first; she thought it a jest.
Why did you fall on your knees? it's never done now, except on the
stage."

"How did I know that?" cried he, peevishly. "One ought to be proposing
every day of the week to keep up with the fashions."

"If you had taken a chair at her side, a little beh