'As a barmaid,' she replied coldly. 'What else am I fit for?' 'Can I not help you?' 'No; you have given me all the help you could, by showing me how much you respect me.' 'I do more than respect you, Bell; I love you.' 'I am glad of that,' replied Bell, softly; 'it is a great thing for a miserable girl like me to be loved.' 'Bell! Bell! no one can cast a stone at you.' 'I am the daughter of a murderer, Gabriel; and I know better than you what the world's charity is. Do you think I would stay in this place, where cruel people would remind me daily and hourly of my father's sin? Ah, my dear, I know what would be said, and I don't wish to hear it. I shall bury my poor mother, and go away, never to return.' 'My poor Bell! God has indeed laid a heavy burden upon you.' 'Don't!' Her voice broke and the long-absent tears came into her eyes. 'Don't speak kindly to me, Gabriel; I can't bear kindness. I have made up my mind to bear the worst. Go away; your goodness only makes things the harder for me. After all, I am only a woman, and as a woman I must w-e-e-p.' She broke down, and her tears flowed quickly. 'I shall go,' said Gabriel, feeling helpless, for indeed he could do nothing. 'Good-bye, Bell!' he faltered. 'Good-bye!' she sobbed. 'God bless you!' Gabriel, with a sick heart, moved slowly towards the door. Just as he reached it, Bell rose swiftly, and crossing the room threw her arms round his neck, weeping as though her overcharged heart would break. 'I shall never kiss you again,' she wailed,'never, never again!' 'God bless and keep you, my poor darling!' faltered Gabriel. 'And God bless you! for a good man you have been to me,' she sobbed, and then they parted, never to meet again in this world.