Nevada County picayune., 1892-01-28

She had been reading DeSlde nun ano he had never noticed her.
 'It's Mrs. w., sir; she that bought the Morris place. She's [ real lady, sir
 "Oh, Rachel, what shall say tC her"' exclaimed Chrss.
 You don't need to say anything just 20 in and smile at her, my lamb and she'll be satisfied, l know"
 When Chriss saw the tall lady in mourning her heart misgave her for a moment, until she heard her voice.
 My child" it said, "you must wonder at my visit. It was my son Frank who intruded upon you yes terday, and who could not rest until came and told how entirely a mis- take it was."
 "Oh, certainly, Mrs. w.; he was very klnd-and polite, l am sure, and I thank you for coming
 Thank you, dear, and now l will go. You have a pleasant home here, Miss Field" she said, as Chriss walked off with her to the carriage.
 "Oh, do you think so? Yes, it is pleasant. Wait just one minute, Mrs. w., please.
 She ran swiftly out of sight. and returned with an exquisite bunch of white chrysanthemums.
 The tears sprang to Mrs. w.. s eyes. She took the bunch and the small hand with it into her own and laid a kiss upon the pure young brow
 "Thev're mothers flowers she's dead, you know" said Chriss, sim ply.
 They are lovely, my dear, and l shall cherish them. Goodbye"
 "Oh, Rachel, that's the loveliest lady l ever saw :" cried Chriss, rush. ing into the kitchen.
 "I suppose yon won't look at any of us now," retorled the old woman, and was huffed and offended for two whole days. A week after that came an invitation to take tea with Mrs, w., and great were the preparations for the event, and Rachel was very proud of her darling as she rode off arrayed in a pretty, quaint gown of lilac, with a ruile of lace at her neck and wrists
 "She's as pretty as a peach, de- clared her old nurse, with them sweet blue eyes and them little pink cheeks, so she is"
 Mrs. w, met her and wave of emotion swept over her, as she thought of her own lost darling.
 "Now, dear, We are friends, you know" said Mrs. w., as they sat down together in the beautiful libra ry, and don't even know your name.
 Mother named me Chrysanthea, and they call me Chriss. You see was born in October, the same as the flowers, and suppose that made her think of the name, l was only two years old when she died"
 Two years old ]" the words sent a pang through the mothers heart. She sighed heavily, then crossed the room, and took a portrait from the table and gave 1t into Chriss hand. It was that of dear little dimpled girl, with an upturned, laughing face.
 "My daughter" Mrs. w. said,
 "Oh, have you daughter! What pretty child?" Then seeing the sad, troubled look in her friend s face she threw herself on her knees and buried her head in Mrs. W.'s lap. After that they were more than friends. A sweet sense of peace flooded Mrs. W.'s motherly heart as she held that girlish form in her arms and passed her fingers through the dark, clinging curls, and she learned all the cruel loss that young heart had suffered, unconscious of how 1t revealed the very depths of an un- sullied nature of the tenderest kind.
 What wonder if Mrs. w. thought "Oh, heart of gold If she could only be my daughter indeed" !" And so it came to pass that the very next year, when the chrysanthemums were in full bloom, Frank Vain wright led his bride to the little viii lage church
 Old Rachael brings their children often now to the spot where their mother used to watch her flowers in her desolate childhood. and as she | ...,ila, nt tho ghnhh..