McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1884-02-28

dazed way that his fond mother saw
from her peeping place between the
curtains; and her own face lost all its
matronly bloom as Cleve came in,
whittier than death itself, and threw
himself on the sofa. Then, when he
had told her, between spasms of pain
that forced him to lie speechless, the
rosy flush crept softly back and into
the eyes fairly radiated happy, hope
full light.
"Try to bear it, my dear boy" she
said gently. "You have proved what
a noble woman she is, if nothing
more.'
Then she went out, smiling to her.
self.
A PLAIN, large room, on the second
story that bore evidences of very recent
furnishing in the new, cheap carpet on
the floor, in the homely chairs and
table. Before the small, mahogany
framed looking-glass that hung between
the windows Mrs. Symington was tying
| her bonnet stringS-narrow black
strings to black straw bonnet, trim
med with Quaker plainness--that COM
pared suitably with her black alpaca
dress and dull plaid shawl. She smiled
at her reflection and then glanced down
al her unaccustOmed toilet.
81 think shall be successful will
be successful for my boys sake. The
sight of his patient, pale face will in
spire me to any degree, and if Miss
Lorne is the woman take her to be
she will prove it before an hour passes
over our heads. Since her descent into
poverty-genteel, lady-like poverty
learn she passes this house every day
at twelve o'clock, and takes her dinner
at the restaurant several doors below;
so if intend to meet her l had better
be going"
She locked the door, put the key in
her pocket, and went down the stairs
into the street-exactly in time, for
slight, graceful figure, clad in gray
twill, passed quietly by and into the
restaurant. She knew it was Birdie
Lorne as well as Cleve would have
known it although she had never seen
her before. She walked calmly into
the restaurant and took a seat at the
same table with the pretty, high-bred
girl.
The place was nearly full, and Mrs.
Symington was glad it was.
All at once, as if suddenly impressed
with the idea, Mrs. Symington looked
curiously at Brides face.
81 beg pardon, but are you not Miss
Lorne? am quite sure you must be
the young lady my son speaks about so
often"
There was something so kindly genial
in the air that Birdie did not resent it.
"Your sonP I certainly am Miss
Lorne; but you certainly have the adj
vantage of me-"
81 am Cleve Symington's mother,
dear, There, forgive me, but you see
I know all about it. am thankful to
have met you quite providentially."
Birdie blushed now-as much in sur
prise as anything else; and Involuntary
she glanced at the plain, questionable
attire.
"You understand? We have been as
unfortunate as yourself, Miss Lorne.
Everything is gone and Cleve goes out
actually goes out every day.
"Poor fellow. Isis he well?''
"Oh, yes, perfectly well, and as brave
as lion; only-forgive me, dear
only hopelessly cast down, on your &C
count. am his mother, and to you,
the only girl he ever loved, I say he
loves you with an affection that will
never abate."
''And love him, dear Mrs. Syming-
toni did then, only somehow could |
not say so.''
And Birdie poured out her whole
heart, completely conquered, and wrote
letter to Cleve Symington. Then she
kissed the mother.
81 am so thankful we met strangely, |
and l am glad you live in this poor,
plain little place. love you better for
it, know. And when my bills are all |
paid for the music teach at the end of |
a quarter, why-why, if Cleve will want
me so soon, we'll get pleasanter rooms
and Well be so happy
''My darling, you don't regret mar
rying poor man, and having to live
in a suit of rooms? Look up, Birdie,
and tell me, little wife,
She looked merrily up into his eyes,
the wife of six hours, as the two sat in
the sunny little room after they had
been married, and where Birdie had
lived since the shares failed her.
"Sorry? Oh, Cleve, when think
how thankful am, and how nobly you
have endured your sudden loss of for
tune, and how happy we will be-why,
where has mother gone?'
Cleve laughed as he drew her head
to his shoulder and kissed her hair.
81 am inclined to be jealous of
mother, who think has gone to the
gone back home, to prepare homely
little dinner for us.''
'sLet us 90 now, dear. Don't scold
because ordered a carriage. will YOU?