order to the coachman, smiled another adieu, as he lifted his hat to her, and the next moment Edith was driven away.

There was a glad light in her eyes, a tender smile on her red lips, and, in spite of her poverty and many cares, she was, for the moment, supremely happy, for Royal Bryant's manner had been far more suggestive to her than he had been aware of, and she was thrilled to her very soul by the consciousness that he loved her.

She sat thus, in happy reverie, until the carriage turned into the street where she lived; then, suddenly coming to herself, her attention was again attracted to the package in her lap. "There is something besides mamma's watch here!" she murmured, as she noticed the thickness of it. Untying the string and removing the wrapper, she found a pretty purse with a silver clasp lying upon the case containing the watch. With burning cheeks she opened it, and found within a crisp ten-dollar note and Royal Bryant's card bearing these words upon the back: "I shall deem it a favor if you will accept the enclosed amount, as a loan, until you find yourself in more comfortable circumstances financially. Yours, R.B."

Edith caught the purse to her lips with a thrill of joy. "How kind! how delicate!" she murmured. "He knew that I was nearly penniless--that I had almost nothing with which to tide over the next few days, during his absence. He is a prince--he is a king among men, and I--"

A vivid flush dyed her cheeks as she suddenly checked the confession that had almost escaped her lips, her head drooped, her chest heaved with the rapid beating of her heart, as she realized that her deepest and strongest affections had been irrevocably given to the noble-hearted young man who had been so kind to her in her recent trouble.

The carriage stopped at last before the door of her home--if the miserable tenement-house could be designated by such a name--and she sprang eagerly to the ground as the coachman opened the door for her to alight. "The fare is all paid, miss," he said, respectfully, as she hesitated a moment; then she went bounding up the stairs to be met on the threshold of her room by Kate O'Brien--who had seen the carriage stop--with her finger on her lips and a look in her kind, honest eyes that made the girl's heart sink with a sudden shock.

"My mother!" she breathed, with paling lips. "Whisht, mavourneen!" said the woman, pitifully; then added, in a lower tone: "She has been mortal ill, miss." "And now?" panted Edith, leaning against the door-frame 

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