appy, 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 inclosed
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 tenenment-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 for support.

"'Sh! She is asleep."

Edith waited to hear no more. Something in the woman's face and manner
filled her with a terrible dread.

She pushed by her, ent