The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1882-05-28

Rodney, with an attempt at soothing,
| And she IL young, she will marry
| again, and form new ties.n
"lndeed she viii not, says Mona, in
dignantly, Irish peasants very seldom
do that She VIII, am sure, be faithful
forever, to the memory of the man she
loyedp
SIS that the fashion hereY lift you
loved man, would you be faithful TO
him forever?
But how could help itY'' says Mona,
simply "Oh, what a wretched state
this country Is mi turmoil and strife
from morning till night. And yet to
talk TO those very people, to mix with
them, they seem such courteous, honest,
loveable creatuIesn
The tears are still lingering on her
lashes; her mouth is sad, Yet at this
instant, even az Godfrey ia gazing at
her and wondering how he shah help
| dispel the cloud Of sorrow that sits up
on her brow, her whole expression
| changes, A merry CLEAN comes into
| her wet eyes, her lips widen and lose
their lachrymose look, and then sud
denly she throws upher head and breaks
into gay little laugh.
Did you see the pig, she says, sit
ting ply the Fireplace? Al through
| couldn't take my eyes of him. He
! struck me as so cOmical. There he sat
blinking his small eyes and trying to
look sympathetic. | am convinced he
knew all about it, Inever saw SO solemn
a pig
She laughs again with fresh delight
at her own thought, The pig In the
| cabin had come back to her, filling her
| with amusement. Godfrey regards her
| with puzzled eyes, What strange
temperament is this, where smiles and
tears can mingle!
what curious child you arel' he
says, at length, "You are never the
same for two minutes together
perhaps that 10 what makes me so
nice, retorts Miss Mona saucily, the
sense Of fun still fun upon her, making
him small grimace and bestowing up
on him bewitching glance from under
her long dark laSheS, that lie like shad-
ows on her cheeks.
yes il certainly is charm" says
Godfrey, slowly, but it puzzles me.
cannot be gay one moment and sad the
next. Tell me how you manage It,"
II can't because don't know myself
1t is my nature However depressed |
may feel at one instant, the neXta pass
ing thought may change my tears into
a laugh. Perhaps that is why we are
called tickle; yet it has nothing to do
with it. it is a mere popularity of tenn
permanent, and a rather merciful gift,
for which we should be grateful, be.
cause, though we return again to our
troubles, still the moment or two of
forgetfuness soothes us and nerves us
for the conflict. / speak of course, of
only minor sorrows; such grief as
poor Kitty's admits of no alienation
| II will last for her lifetime
"Will itW says Godfrey, oddly.
Yves, One can understand that"
replies she, gTavely, not needing the
closeness Of bis regard MANY things
affect Inc curously," she goes on,
dreamily-" sad pictures and poetry, and
the sound Of sweet music"
do you singY" asks he, through mere
force Of habit, as she pauses.
Yes,
The answer is SO downright, SO I'M
like the usual "a little, or oh, nothing
to signify" or lust when there Is no.
body else" and so on, that Godfrey is
rather taken aback.
II am not a musician" she goes on
evenly, but some people admire my
singing very much, In Dublin they
liked to hear me, when | was with
Aunt Anastasia; and you knowa Dub
lii audience is very critical
"But you have no pianot"
"Yes, have; aunty gave me hers
when | was leaving town. II was no
use to her and | loved it. | was in
! .,i,y,,l OF in,f al Coz ,lt
gears, and when j came back from IL 1
didn't care for Anastasia's friends, and
found my only comfort in my music. i
am telling you everything, am | not, y
with wistful smile, and perhaps l
weary your
Weary me! no, indeed That is one
of the very few unkind things you have
ever said TO me, How could / weary of
your voice2 10 on; tell me whore you
keep this magical piano"
"n my own room You have not seen
that yet But ii belongs to myself
alone, and ! call il my den, because in
it keep everything that ! hold most
precious, Some time / will show it to
you.n
Show it to me to-day, says he, with
interest.
Very well, II you wish"
And yOu Will sing me something's
vi You like, Are YOU fond Of sing.
ingM
VERY, But for myself I have no
voice worth hearing | sing, you know,
a little which is my misfortune, not my
fault; don't you think sop
Oh, no, because If you can sing at
all-that is, correctly, and without false
notes-you must feel music and love
it,"
"Well, for my part ! hate people who
, sing little. | always wish it was even
less | hold that they are a social nui-
sance, and ought to beput down 10y law,
! My eldest brother, Nick, sings really
J very well--a charming tenor, you know
good enough to coax the birds off the
bushes. He does all that sort Of diet
t1ntc paints, and reads ire
r mendously about things dead and gone
that can't possibly advantage anybody
) Understands old China as well as most
, people (which isn't saying muChl, and |
think-but as vet this statement is I'M
! supported think he writes poetry
. Does he reallyM asks Mona, with
eyes wide open, 81 am sure if ever
meet your brother NiCk shall be dread
) fully afraid OF him.
: Don't Detray me, at all events. JIG
2 is atouchy sort of fellow, and might
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