greater than mine. Things
have changed since that. Madame Socani is very well, but she is a
jealous woman. Madame Socani hates your daughter. Oh, heavens, yes!
But she was never my wife. Oh, no! A woman at this profession grows
old quicker than a man. And she has never succeeded in getting a
theatre of her own. She did try her hand at it at New York, but that
came to nothing. If Miss Rachel will venture along with me, we will
have 500,000 dollars before five years are gone. She shall have
everything that the world can offer--jewels, furniture, hangings!
She shall keep the best table in New York, and shall have her own
banker's account. There's no such success to be found anywhere
for a young woman. If you will only just turn it in your mind, Mr.
O'Mahony." Then Mr. Moss brushed his hat with the sleeve of his coat
and took his leave.

He had nearly told the entire truth to Mr. O'Mahony. He had never
married Madame Socani. As far as Madame Socani knew, her veritable
husband, Socani, was still alive. And it was not true that Mr. Moss
had sent that abominable message to Rachel. The message, no doubt,
had expressed a former wish on his part; but that wish was now in
abeyance. Miss O'Mahony's voice had proved itself to him to be worth
matrimony,--that and her beauty together. In former days, when he had
tried to kiss her, he had valued her less highly. Now, as he left the
room, he was fully content with the bargain he had suggested. Mr.
Jones was out of the way, and her voice had proved itself to his
judgment to be worth the price he had offered.

When her father saw her again he began meekly to plead for Mr. Moss.

"Do you mean to say, father," she exclaimed, "that you have joined
yourself to him?"

"I am only telling you what he says."

"Tell me nothing at all. You ought to know that he is an abomination.
Though he had the whole Fifth Avenue to offer to me I would not touch
him with a pair of tongs."

But she, in the midst of her singing, had been much touched by seeing
Frank Jones among the listeners in the back of one of the boxes. When
the piece was over there had come upon her a desire to go to him and
tell him that, in spite of all she had said, she would wait for him
if only he would profess himself ready to wait for her. There was not
much in it,--that a man should wait in town for two or three days,
and should return to the theatre to see the girl whom he professed to
regard. It was only that, but it had ag