shall go back. We have a few pounds which will take us away."

"You must not speak of going away, really, Miss O'Mahony."

"Then I must have an agreement signed. You understand that. And
we shall look for cheaper rooms to-day. There is a little street
close by where we can manage it. But on the one thing we are
determined;--we will not get into debt."

CHAPTER VIII.

CHRISTMAS-DAY, 1880.

On Christmas-day Rachel O'Mahony wrote a letter to her lover at
Morony Castle:

Cecil Street, Christmas-day, 1880.

DEAREST FRANK,

You do love me, don't you? What's the use of my loving
you, and thinking that you are everything, only that you
are to love me? I am quite content that it should be so.
Only let it be so. You'll ask me what reason I have to be
jealous. I am not jealous. I do think in my heart that you
think that I'm--just perfect. And when I tell myself that
it is so, I lay myself back in my chair and kiss at you
with my lips till I am tired of kissing the space where
you ain't. But if I am wrong, and if you are having a good
time of it with Miss Considine at Mrs. McKeon's ball, and
are not thinking a bit of me and my kisses, what's the
use? It's a very unfair bargain that a woman makes with a
man. "Yes; I do love you," I say,--"but--" Then there's a
sigh. "Yes; I'll love you," you say--"if--" Then there's
a laugh. If I tell a fib, and am not worth having, you
can always recuperate. But we can't recuperate. I'm to go
about the world and be laughed at, as the girl that Frank
Jones made a fool of. Oh! Mr. Jones, if you treat me in
that way, won't I punish you? I'll jump into the lough
with a label round my neck telling the whole story. But I
am not a bit jealous, because I know you are good.

And now I must tell you a bit more of my history. We got
rid of that lovely hotel, paying L6 10s., when that just
earned L1. And I have brought the piano with me. The man
at Erard's told me that I should have it for L2 10s. a
month, frankly owning that he hoped to get my custom. "But
Mr. Moss is to pay nothing?" I asked. He swore that Mr.
Moss would have to pay nothing, and leave what occurred
between him and me. I don't think he will. L30 a year
ought to be enough for the hire of a piano. So here we
are established, at L10 a month--the first-floor, with
father's bedroom behind the sitting-room. I have the room