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It is Mona's laugh. Raising their eyes, both mother and son turn their heads hastily (and quite involuntarily) and gaze upon the scene beyond. They are so situated that they can see into the curtained chamber and mark the picture it contains. The duke is bending over Mona in a manner that might perhaps be termed by an outsider slightly empresse, and Mona is looking up at him, and both are laughing gayly,—Mona with all the freshness of unchecked youth, the duke with such a thorough and wholesome sense of enjoyment as he has not known for years. "I shall not be disappointed. I have read all about it," returns he, enthusiastically. Then, as though the thought has just struck him, he says,— "It was Tim Ryan," returns Mona, wearily, feeling unequal to a long story just at present..

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"Last night you called me Paul. Do you remember? Call me it again, for the last time," he entreats, in a low tone. "I shall never forget what I felt then. If ever in the future you hear good of me, believe it was through you it sprung to life. Till my dying day your image will remain with me. Say now, 'Good-by, Paul,' before I go." "Oh, yes, you must indeed," says the little enthusiast, brightening. "It is more than lovely. How I wish I could go with you!" "Dan? He was a fine man, surely; six feet in his stockin', he was, an' eyes like a woman's. He come down here an' met her, an' she married him. Nothing would stop her, though the parson was fit to be tied about it. An' of course he was no match for her,—father bein' only a bricklayer when he began life,—but still I will say Dan was a fine man, an' one to think about; an' no two ways in him, an' that soft about the heart. He worshipped the ground she walked on; an' four years after their marriage she told me herself she never had an ache in her heart since she married him. That was fine tellin', sir, wasn't it? Four years, mind ye. Why, when Mary was alive (my wife, sir) we had a shindy twice a week, reg'lar as clockwork. We wouldn't have known ourselves without it; but, however, that's nayther here nor there," says Mr. Scully, pulling himself up short. "An' I ask yer pardon, sir, for pushing private matters on ye like this." "Yes. But I shall never see them.".