Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-05-05
ELLEN'S MERRY MOURNING,
W. Champney In Romance.

Elizabeth W. Champney In Romance.
u o ONE WHO HAr
-: :: 5:
VIZ e. face OF Ellen. the
SAWJ ShaMN gatekeeper, would be
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
RNa y.&N ni likely soon to forge,
'FS E%y 1t. She usually wore
~ETIx.NSlSD her trim figure to q
.tHW, Or T.. Her ribbons were
pink. and the chill
dren declared that
her hair was pink also. 1t was
really very pretty shade of light
red. and 1t crinkled in a bewitching
way. What charming picture she made.
framed by the arched window. the gray
stone covered closely with luxuriant ivy!
She was always smiling, and had a gay
word Of repartee for her fellow-servants: a
| deferential but cheerful greeting for her
| 81 pertors; jokes and amusing stories for the
children; and when all alone she sang the
1olliest Irish songs and ballads. with a
laughing Tilt in her voice, which was SO ir-
resistible that the guests at the villa often
sat for hours on the veranda, where I'M
known to her. they could hear Ellen sing.
Altogether she was the most lighthearte1.
merry little woman you ever saw, and we
were all surprised to see her appear on Sun
day In full widows weeds. We met her just
returning from church, and remarked on
the exuberance of health and spirit display
ed by the sablerobed figure, though we did
rot at first recognize it. Through the folds
OF the heavy Grape veil saw a CLINT Of the
red-gold hair. and there was something in
her buoyant step which recalled the meas
ure OF those lifting choruses. believe she
was thinking them over and keeping time
to their beat and swing as she walked. ]
| suspected at once that this was no ordinary
| widow bowed down by heavy weight Of
woe, and when O'F'laherty, the coachman,
| turned on his box and threw her q kiss es
we passed, we also turned and saw the
Grape veil thrown back and Ellens rosy
face framed by a coquettish widows cap.
| rs Ellen In grief?" asked.
| Not at all, my hostess answered, laugh
ing; she Is only in deep mourning and en-
| joys 1t very much.''
| Some distant relative I presume who
| has left her money!"
"On the contrary, 1t is in honor Of her
husband, to whom she was very tenderly
attached, and for whom she has resisted
| the most persistent attentions Of lovers
through two long years Of widowhood. Is
1T not so, O'Flaherty?"
| The privileged coachman coughed and
chuckled. Its about so. num-" he admit
| ted.
ELLEN a widow" exclaimed. why, she
is the merriest jade 1 ever saw. You are
talking in riddles; will you be kind enough
| to explain your meaning?"
| ELLEN must tell you," my friend replied
and that afternoon / stroled down to the
| lodge intent on unraveling the mystery
Ellen wore neat black sateen. hecked will
a tiny white figure resembling snow flakes
| Muslin GUNS were folded back from hel
wrists in the most approved style, and the
specks of rubber earrings in her rosy ears
| were matched by spot of court plaster on
her dimpled chin; English violets and 9
black folded handkerchief were tucked in
her belt. Ellen was evidently still sustain
ing her character as bewitching little
| widow. We had had some previous CONVEX
sation. ana l soon made an opportunity OF
| telling her that l was sorry to hear of hel
| bereavement.
"Oh, yes, num-" she admitted, IT fel,
very bad intirely-for a SPELL It's a dread
fuI thing, mum. to lose ones husband. and
hope you will never suffer the likes"
/ felt not a little indignant at Ellen's
show OF grief, for the mink looked so com
placent in her widows weeds that 1 was
sure that whatever she might have suffered
was more than made up to her by a sense
or their becomingness. / fancied, too tina,
| as l entered the lodge, / had seen O'Fla.
| herty, the coachman, sneak out of the back
door, and l could not help saying rather
spitefully: Time brings consultations FL.
| len, and 1 should not be surprised IL YOU
| married a second time"
A look of real pain and Indignation came
INTO Eilen's face "Niver, mum. Do you
| think l could marry any one else but my
own Terry! Shure. it's mistaken you are
| the saints forgive you'll Why, we nivel
quarreled but once, and that was the day
l lost him: It's many's the bitter tear I've
saw that Ellen was in earnest, and felt
that l did not quite understand this odd
mixture OF loyalty and vanity. Tell me
about it. 1 said. as kindly as I could
| How did you lose your husband?'
1T was this way, num-" Ellen explain.
| ed. When We were first married / was
| waitress at the house an Terence was
| under-gardener. an oh, mum, we were tina,
| happy an comfortable until the MISTRESS
| sister came to spend the summer here an
| brought a peck of misery for us in all
| thin Sarah-togy TRUNKS Of hers, bad luck
to her! Mrs. Deiacey her name was. q
| stoilish young wilder, who never wasted
| many tears on her husband, but made ur
| for that with her bumbaz zines or her grinny "
dimes, the Chany grapes you could pull
through gould ring; an, the silky. slinky
| stuff they call foolhardy"
| "Foolhady? l never heard of any such
material. Ellen. / have it! You must mean
| foulard."
We'll. be 1t fool hard or fool soft, ]
| know not 1 only know that she made a
| fool of livery man that came nigh her, the
| crayther! an / was foolish as a man
| over her gowns. 1 unpacked her dresses
| for her an hung 'em up in the closets, an
| all that avenin' / was goin' on to Terence
| about thin gowns till / misthrust he was
| sick of hearin' me- for he answered me
| cross-like. You know how men is, mum
| the MISTRESS tells me you have a husband
| yourself. Well, 1 niver took no warnin
| but kept on tellin' him how the butler
| tould me that whin Mrs. Delacey wore her
black Brussels net, with the black pearls
| on her snowy neck, at the Vanderbilt
| ball the Juke of what's-his-name, he says
| Who Is that raquiem in lace? says he
| 'shinin' out like snowflake forninst q
| chimney stack
| What's raquiemr says Terry. It's
| song they sing at a wake says /, an
| the iuke said 1t must be very iatterin' to
| her husband to know that such a lovely
| young crayther was mournin' for him In
| such foine style. Mournin' is becomin ,
| says 1, I'd like to wear 1t myself. 1t must
! be a great consolation to a wilder If you
| should die, Terry says 1, I wouldn't spare
| the money on black stuff for YOU
| You'd be glad enough for the chance
| says he, on that stuck-up butler too
| Niver you let me hear you speak Of hin,
| agin. or It's the four eyes of you both that
| I'll put in mournin',' says he.
1T was the butler, mum, that made the
| throuble betwixt us more than the mourn
| In. The misthress niver would have had a
| man In the house doin' woman's work, but