"Mollie," he said, "I am going away at last; I am going away to make my fortune and come back to marry you."
She looked up with a white face.
"Where are you going, dear?" she asked. She had got used to waiting; it was not much when she could see him every day and feel his affections surround her.
"Willie has taken my place at the office, and nobody wants me at home. I am going to America, to work—with my hands. Mollie dear, I am going to be a man, and give up my dreams—at least, till I have earned enough to keep you and them. You will not mind waiting a little longer, dearest?"
The woman raised his hands in hers and laid her cheek upon them. She remembered what he did not realize—that the years were passing so quickly.
"We could not have married," the man continued, "if I had remained here. It was for the best my brother succeeded. While they wanted me and the money I could not have been free; and on whatever income I make now we shall have only our two selves to keep. Do you remember the artist we met here
