bringin' ye thegither in the ind, if so be ye do be lovin' as man an'
maid should love, wid all yer heart. Thin there's the love o' man an'
wife. Shure, that's the love that lasts, if it shtarts right. Shure,
it doesn't always shtart wid the sun shinin.' 'Will ye marry me?' says
Teddy Flynn to me. 'I will,' says I. 'Then I'll come back from Canaday
to futch ye,' says he, wid a tear in his eye.

"'For what's a man in ould Ireland that has a head for annything but
puttaties! There's land free in Canaday, an' I'm goin' to make a home
for ye, Mary,' says he, wavin' a piece of paper in the air. 'Are ye,
thin?' says I. He goes away that night, an' the next mornin' I have a
lether from him, sayin' he's shtartin' that day for Canaday. He hadn't
the heart to tell me to me face. Fwaht do I do thin? I begs, borrers,
an' stales, an' I reached that ship wan minnit before she sailed. There
was no praste aboord, but we was married six weeks afther at Quebec. And
thegither we lived wid ups an' downs--but no ups an' downs to the love of
us for twenty years, blessed be God for all His mercies!"

Rosalie had listened with eyes that hungrily watched every expression,
ears that weighed eagerly every inflection; for she was hearing the story
of another's love, and it did not seem strange to her that a woman, old,
red-faced, and fat, should be telling it.

Yet there were times when she wept till she was exhausted; when all her
girlhood was drowned in the overflow of her eyes; when there was a sense
of irrevocable loss upon her. Then it was, in her fear of soul and
pitiful loneliness, that her lover--the man she would have died for--
seemed to have deserted her. Then it was that a sudden hatred against
him rose up in her--to be swept away as swiftly as it came by the memory
of his broken tale of love, his passionate words: "I have never loved any