The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1882-06-04

more dangerous, she goes,
When she is gone, Godfrey walks i'm
patiently up and down the small hall,
conflicting emotions robbing him of the
serenity that usually attends his foot
steps, lie is happy, yet full of a secret
gnaWing uneasiness that weighs upon
him daily, hourly. Near Mona--when
in her presence-a gladness that
amounts almost To perfect happiness is
his; apart from her is unrest. Up and
down the little hall he PAGES, his hands
behind his back, as is his wont when
deep in daydreams, and asks himself
many question hitherto unthought of.
He recognizes the CONSERVATION his
marriage to Mona would produce at
homc-lirst his mother, and then Nick,
and after them Violet, who last year
was asked to Rodney Towers Though
she knew ii mott for The purpose of lay
ing siege 10 his heart. Can he--shall he
go farther in this matter? Then this
thought presses to the front beyond all
others docs she-will she--ever love
me?"
Now, hurry, Bridget" says Mona's
low, soft voice, that excellent thing
i'll woman Don't be any time. Just
give that to Kitty, and say one prayer,
and he back In ten minutes" and Bird
get hurries away, thankful that she will
have an opportunity of seeing the
corpse,
Now come and see my own ROOM"
says Mona, going up to Rodney, and,
slipping her hand into his in a little
trustful fashion that is one of her many
loving ways, she leads him along the
hall to a door opposite the Kitchen
This she opens, and with conscious
pride draws him after her across its
at this moment have drawn him to the
worlds end wherever that may be!
1t is a very curious little room they
enter-yet pretty, withal, and sugges-
tive of care and affection, Each object
that meets the view seems replete with
pleasurabIe memory seems part of its
gentle mistress. There are books, and
some ornaments, and huge bowl of
understanding flowers on the centre
table, and bracket or two against the
walls. Some loose music is lying on a
chair.
"Now am here, you will sing me
something" says Godfrey, presently.
81 wonder what kind of songs you
like best, says Mona, dreamily, letting
her fingers run noiSeleSsly over the Col
lard. If you are like me, you like sad
ones.n
Then | am like YOU" returns he
quickly.
Then will sing you a song | was
sent last week, - says Mona, and forth
with sings him Years Ago" mourn
fully, pathetic, and with all her soul, as
it should be sung. Then she yves him
London Bridge" and then Rose
Marie, and then she takes her fingers
from the piano and looks at him with a
fond hope that he will see fit to praise
her work
You are an artist" says Godfrey,
with deep sigh, when she has finished.
''Who taught you, child? But there is
no use in such question. Nobody
could teach it TO you; you must feel it
as you sing. Where do you get your
musicp' wondering how London
Bridge" has found its way to this iso-
lated spot.
"The boys send it to me. Anything
new that comes out, or anything they
think will suit my voice, they post TO me
at once
1.-The boys!" repeats he, mystifed.
YES, the students, | mean. When
with amty in Dublin l knew ever so
many Of them, and they were very fond
of me-"
81 dare say" says Mr.. Rodney, with
rising ire.
Jack Foster and Terry O'Brien write
N m al
consciously. "And indeed they all do
occasionally, at Christmas, you know,
and Easter, and Midsummer just to
ask me how am, and to tell me how
they have got through their exams.
But ii is Jack and Terry, for the most
part, who send me the music"
ut is very kind of them, Pm sure"
says Rodney, unreasonably Jealous, as,
could he have seen the said Terry's
shock head of red hair, his fears Of ri
valry would forever have been laid at
rest. "But they aTe favored friends
You can take presents from them, and
yet the other day when | asked you if
| you would like little gold chain to
hang to your mothers watch, you an
swered me that you did not require it
in such tone as actually fro2e me and
made me feel had said something I'M
pard0nably impertinent,"
"Ob, no." says Mona, shocked at this
Interpretation Of her manner. II did
not mean all that; only really did not
require it; at least -truthfully-"not
much. And, besides, song is not like
agold chain; and you are quite differ
ent from them; and besides, again, y
growing slightly confused, yet with a
last remnant of courage, there isno rea-
son why you should give me anything.
Shall '-hurriedly-"sng something
else for you?n
And Thea she sings again, some old
world song of love and Chlvalry that
awakcs within one quick longing for
"A worthier life Her sweet voice rings
through the room, now glad with tri-
umph, now sad with "lovely mean.
choly,n AS the words and music sway
her. Her voice is clear and pure and
full Of pathos. She seems to follow nc
rule; an "f' here or "po there, on the
page before her, she needs not, but sings
only as her heart dictates.
When she has finished Geoflrey says
"thank YOU" in low tone. He is
thinking of the last time when some
one else sang to him, and of how diff
ferent from this the whole scene was
1t was at the Towers, and the hour
with its dying daylight, rises befor,
him. The subdued light of the summer
eve, the open window, the perfume o
the dIowsy flowers, the girl at the plan,
| with her small droOuing head and he