nearest to her heart She has told me of the proudest moment of her
life."

"When she rejected me?" said Cashel, bitterly.

"So was it--when she rejected you," re-echoed Tiernay. "When poor, she
refused wealth; when friendless in all that friendship can profit, she
declined protection; when almost homeless, she refused a home; when
sought by one whom alone of all the world she preferred, she said him
nay! It was at that moment of self-sacrifice, when she abandoned every
thought of present happiness and of future hope, and devoted herself to
one humble but holy duty, she felt the ecstasy of a martyr's triumph.
You may think that these are exaggerations, and that I reckon at too
exalted a standard such evidences of affection, but I do not think so.
I believe that there is more courage in the patient submission to an
obscure and unnoticed fortune, beset with daily trials and privations,
than in braving the stake or the scaffold, with human sympathies to
exalt the sacrifice."

"But I offered to share this duty with her; to be a son to him whom she
regarded as a father."

"How little you know of the cares--the thoughtful, watchful, anxious
cares--you were willing to share! You could give wealth and splendor,
it is true; you could confer all the blandishments of fortune, all the
luxuries that rich men command; but one hour of gentle solicitude
in sickness--one kind look, that recalled years of tenderness--one
accustomed service, the tribute of affection--were worth all that gold
could purchase, told ten times over. And these are not to be acquired;
they are the instincts that, born in childhood, grow strong with years,
till at length they form that atmosphere of love in which parents live
among their children. No! Mary felt that it were a treason to rob her
poor old grandfather of even a thought that should be his."

"But, I repeat it," cried Cashel, passionately, "I would participate in
every care; I would share her duties, as she should share my fortunes."

"And what guarantee did you give for your fitness to such a task?" said
Tiernay. "Was it by your life of pleasure, a career of wild and wasteful
extravagance--was it by the unbridled freedom with which you followed
every impulse of your will--was it by the example your friendships
exhibited--was it by an indiscriminating generosity, that only throws
a shade over better-regulated munificence, you would show that you were
suited to a life of unobtrusive, humble duti