The suburban citizen., 1902-02-08

fore me. "Why, Nora! What in the
world do You mean? Don't tell me
that you are going to get married"
The idea of matrimony in cOnnection
with awkward bashful Morn was so
funny that we both laughed heartily,
but when she had recovered her breath
she explained matters.
Bridget, or Irene" as Nora scrupu
lously called her, still continued frail,
and with no prospect of rugged health
in the futnre. Nora had, therefore,
conceived the idea Of buying with her
own carefully boarded savings a little
house, and making a home for them
both.
The enthusiasm and reverence with
which Nora spoke the word "home"
told the whole story of a life Of ungrat-
flied longings.
The details of the investment were
! gladly attended to by my husband, and
then the furnishing Of the little cot
tage, at which 1 assisted, began.
Irene was to be kept in profound ignor
ance Of the scheme until all was ready
Nora's thin face seemed glorified, and
happiness radiated from her person
| Participation in her delight was a ne
cessity.
Everything was done with an eye to
the invalid's comfort and enjoyment
An easy chair, smelling of varnsh and
scratchy with a Brussels covering,
stood at the sunniest window, in which
sang a canary, and the picture Of the
Madonna, which 1 had contributed,
was strung up in close proximity to
the ceiling
At last everything was ready, and
the next day was to see Irene's acces.
sion to the throne of the palace.
l must confess that the next morn
ing my sympathetic thoughts were in
the cottage. 1t seemed to me almost
as il a lover were bringing home his
bride, and l was consequently puzzled
when, late in the afternoon. l was in
formed that Nora wished to see me.
On going down J. was shocked at the
change which had taken place in the
woman. Her shoulders dropped, her
face was worn. her eyes were dull and
listless, and her whole attitude was
expressive Of detection.
"Why, Nora" / exclaimed in alarm.
"What is the matter?'
For q moment she did not speak.
She seemed to be struggling with some
deep emotion. At last she said broken
iy, but with a pathetic effort to regain
her old cheerfulness, IL just called in
to tell We, mem, about-Irenc. She's
married-to - to-Tim Began - yester-
day. No, mem. there's nothing You can
do for me. 'Tisn't strange she'd he
wantn' a home of her own, and-and
then she didn't know, Of course" she
added bravely, but with quivering lips.
1t was some time after this before |
saw Nora again. My husbands bust
ness required a trip to Europe, and the
children and 1 were to accompany him.
1t occurred to me that Nora might keep
our house during our absence Of a
year. l found her in the little cottage
and much the same as we had always
known her, except that she seemed
older, and had an air of listlessness
quite different from her old, alert bear
ing. She thanked me kindly for my
Offer but declined It, She was not
well, she said, and had lost her heart
for work.
Her eyes frightened when I asked
after Irene. l learned that she was
better, and happy, with her husband,
hn 10, nd
her complete parlor set. 1t WINS also
mentioned incidentally and with some
pride that she had lace curtains at all
her windows.
Business affairs shaped themselves
so that It was two years before we re-
turned to America. Nora's sad face
had followed me across the Atlantic,
and had often thought of her during
my absence. When l was reopening
my house, my mind naturally reverted
to her, and | went TO see her.
A vague sense OF some catastrophe
had oppressed me, but l was relieved
to find the little cottage shining in a
new coat Of paint, and presenting an
unexpected air Of cheerfulnpss. Nora
herself opened the door, and certainly
no one welcomed my return more
heartily than my old and trusty serv-
ant.
| was glad to note that she seemed
happier than when l last saw her, and
had regained much Of her old vivacity
Consequently was surprised on ask.
ing about her niece to see her face set
tie into solemn lines, and to hear her
say in hushed and reverent tones:
Irene is dead"
She received my condolences with
gratitude and appreciation, but with n
compla cency and absence of all express
son Of deep sorrow for which / found
IL hard to account. She told me with
much volubility OF Irenes last illness,
Of her death after much suffering, and
OF the number or carriages which fol-
lowed her to the grave. Then she hes
itated, as II there were more to tell.
Suddenly, as | waited for her to con
tinue, there came from behind me the
sound OF faint cry.