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"No; I am quite warm," says Mona, in a low, sad tone. "Then you are really pleased? I am just what you want me to be? Oh! how you frightened me!" says the girl, laying her hand upon her heart with a pretty gesture of relief. "Now, hurry, Bridget," says Mona's low soft voice,—that "excellent thing in woman." "Don't be any time. Just give that to Kitty, and say one prayer, and be back in ten minutes.".

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"Yes, if it is fine," says Mona, after a faint hesitation. It is rather beyond his reach, but he is determined not to be outdone. Of course by stepping into the water and climbing the slimy rock that holds the desired treasure, it can be gained; but with a lazy desire to keep his boots dry, he clings to his present position, regardless of the fact that bruised flesh (if nothing worse) will probably be the result of his daring. "By the by," he says, once more restored to something like hope, as he notes her drooping lids and changing color and how she hides from his searching gaze her dark, blue, Irish eyes, that, as somebody has so cleverly expressed it, seem "rubbed into her head with a dirty finger," so marked lie the shadows beneath them, that enhance and heighten their beauty,—"by the by, you told me you had a miniature of your mother in your desk, and you promised to show it to me." He merely says this with a view to gaining more time, and not from any overwhelming desire to see the late Mrs. Scully. Then she strains the water from it, and looks with admiration upon its steaming contents. "The murphies" (as, I fear, she calls the potatoes) are done to a turn..