West Virginia argus. [volume] (Kingwood, W. Va.) 1877-1946, 1877-12-22

i SoIAons touShiuS III Que so young.
Finally she turned away with a sigh,
and at that instant the confectionery 5
door opened, and lady, richly dressed,
came out. Something in the child's
face or looks attracted her attention.
She stopped, drew the shivering little
hgure toward the light, and scanned il
| curiously.
What is your name, dearg" she
asked, kindly.
Moran, was the answer, given i'm n
low vsice, and with look of wonder AT
the questioner.
" Norah!' echoed the lady, turning
pale. "Norah whatY
Norah Brady, ma'am."
"Oh " and an expression, partly of re-
lief, partly of disappointment, swept
over the listeners face. Then She slip
| ped some money into the child's hand.
and whispered: "Spend it as YOU
please, dear. 1t is New Years gift 4"
| Norah's cheeks flushed and she drew
back little proudly.
can not take it, ma'am," she an
swered, in even, steady tones. Papa
would be angry il did"
Angry that you accept gift? Why
Because we're poor, and when pco-
PIE give us things, he says it's out of
charity"
But is that any reason for refusing
! thenT'
Yes, for papa and | are independ-
| ent, and had rather earn our own money. ="
| The little figure Strengthened itself with
and air Ct dignity almost womanly.
You are a strange child" was the
reply, and the lady looked interested and
amused. Tell me where you liver"
The street and number were named,
and then Norah raised her honest blue
eyes, and said softly: "Please don't
think me ungrateful maam. You are
very kind indeed. Only that papa has
seen better days, and it hurts him now
to be poor, might, perhaps, keep it /"
And she handed back the money with a
wistful little glance that spoke vol
umes.
Have you mother, dear?" ques-
toned the other.
The blue eyes filed with tears. "No.
ma'am," she answered. in Il quivering
voice. Mamma died three wears arc. ]"
Why was it that throb of pain stir
| red the listeners heart at these words ?
What was Norah's mother to her? She
felt drawn toward the child, she hardly
knew why; drawn, too, toward the dead
mother, and the strange, proud father.
| Norah's eyes, Norah's name, were like
those of little sister she had lost--by a
separation almost worse than death.
She had never forgotten it, and tonight
the memory of that olden time softeAed
her heart, and made her pitiful toward
the griets of others. But all this while
her carriage stood waiting, with white
haired old gentleman inside, and the
cOachman impatiently stamping his feet.
must leave you," she whispered to
Norah at last, longing to clasp the little
figure to her breast. " ] shall come and
see you soon, may notp Then. seeing
the child hesitated to reply, she added
"Are you afraid papa will object? Tell
him charity has nothing to do with it.,
but it is for my own sake, and because
you remind me of some one / loved
years ago, that / wish to come"
Norah was a hospitable little soul, and
the beautiful lady had completely won
her heart Papa will be glad to zee
YOU she said, simply, and, too"
"Thank you, dear" Then moved by
a sudden impulse, the lady stopped down
and kissed her. The coachman, looking
on, rubbed his eyes, and thought that
perhaps Norah was some little princess
in disguise. And so she was, and by a
right more royal than that of blood or
money.
What child was thatT questioned
the white-haired old gentleman, as the
lady took her scat in the carriage and
bade the coachman drive on. Some
beggar with tale of distress that
touched your sympathy" He looked
at her fondly, and in manner that
showed she was the Zone woman of the
world to him.
" Not beggar," and the lady smiled
and told how Norah had refused the
money. "But the child interested me
strangely. She has eyes like those of
the little Norah / left in Ireland, and
for minute had faint hope that my
search was at last ended. But her faith
er's name is Brady"
"And yours was O'COnneIl," ," said the
gentleman. "And it was not here, but
TO France, that he migrated"
know" and a touch Of impatience
came into her voice. at was but for a
minute, as / said. Afterward under
stood how impossible it was" She
sighed bitterly, and went on. II won
der if this is to be the punishment for
my sin and folly-that ] am never 10
know the fate of those / deserted"
That girlish sin and folly, az you
call it, dear wife, has been expiated long
since" was the answer. "I,et the past
bury its dead. DO not make yourself
miserable by raking up its ashes"
am not unhappy" she said, softly.
why should be2 Every wish is graf
fled save one--that Of reconciliation
with my parents, and perhaps it is right
this should be denied me-"
Has IL ever occurred to you that they
may be dead % asked the gentleman.
looking at her compassionately.
Many times" she answered. "But
] cannot make myself believe it. Some
thing seems to tell me they are living
and in want"
Oh, that is because the agent we
sent over TO Ireland told us your father
had lost his property. You would nat
urally think of him as poor after that" "
" Yes, and when pride is joined 10
poverty, the struggle is the harder.
Father was n strange man stern, and
naughty and obstinate, but under the
harsh exterior hid one Of the warmest
hearts that ever beat ! can under
stand why he left Ireland 80 suddenly,
and covered up all traces Of his fight,