New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1903-11-01
LoVe and An Umbrella.

Murphy she said; and then added. And upon
my word things being as they are, don't know
but what you're right. You're very comfortable
as you are. And they are too sure themselves
and too keen after the money except one ana
he's nothing but an Omadhaun."
Her grief and dissatisfaction had their erect
on her looks, as her friends and neishDors
weren't slow about telling her. Even Father
Rannon the least observant of men. noticed II.
You're not looking well. Sibbie.'' he said. with
the kind. anxious, far off look Of one who saw
the world and its troubles from great distance
'ItlI be that I'm getting old Father. s3Id
Sibbe. with fOut at herself. Il pulled out
gray hair this morning."
1T seems like yesterday since l chrstened you
and it can't be much more than twenty-three
years ago Twenty four, is it, Well. We can't
call you old yet, child. I've been visiting that
poor neighbor of yours Corney O'DOnOvan. His
house is in a miserable state, enough to make
the kind woman his mother troubled even where
she is. I gave him good advice"
To turn Biddy Flaherty and get a clean
houeSt girl in her place.
TO get a wife; he'll never be comfortable
: till he does"
The kind. Old. far off eyes looked away from
Sibbie. over whose face the color had rushed in
a flood
Il hear you've a great contrivance for keep
ing off the rain" she said, in a confused effort
to get away from what was apparently an aWk-
ward subject
1T Was sent a present to me from Dublin"
Father BannOn answered Frightening. Indeed.
I'm afraid to go out with it; for all the children
in The place viii be following me and the dogs
barking at my heels. You wouldn't believe how
it holds the lain off. For all the world ike
SO. I head" said sibbie, not greatly inter
| ested in Father BannOn's acquisition but pre-
tending-to be So What at all do they call II?
! 1t has queer name-ltS called an uIiDrelld-
| | have a good many people dropping in To see
what it's like. 1t shuts up very handy too
indeed" said Sibbie. politely Interested.
would like to il. so | would
Ills long time, Sbbe, child. since you came
! to see me. Surprising you come over 10 Tea on
Sunday? I know teas a treat to you-it IS to
sibble looked eager: finally confessed that
tea was her temptation-it was nearly as scarce
| a thing in the parish of NeWtOWncIoss at Ihdt
date the umbrella which Father cannon had
| She dressed herself in her best to do honor to
| the occasion Her best was a scarlet petticoat,
a loosely fitting jacket of some lowered stun
white and scarlet. caught in with scarlet RIB
bon at the waist blue knitted stockings, ana
stout pretty little shoes. 1t was a fashion OF
dress that never went out in Newtowncross; ana
when she took off her blue hooded cloak and re
veaed her fnery the old priest took snuf ana
paid her a compliment
He was reading his breviary when Sibbie ar
rived, by the window that overlooked the val
ley Of the Daugh River, with rampant OF the
mountains behind it.
you're fine enough for a wedding. Sbbic,'
he said sit down. child while l make the tea.
I'm expecting another visitor. An, mere ne IS.
How you. COrney?
He looked away from Sibbies red cheek and
wore a half guilty air. When he looked back
again it seemed as though a hedge OF brlars
and thorns had grown up about the girl during
the little interal. Instead of the sweet natu-
raIness of the Sibbie of a few moments ago, this
Sfbbie sat on the edge of her chair in an un-
easy attitude; her mouth was prim; she looked
so chilly, so unfriendly, that it was no wonder
poor COrney in his bottle green coat with brass
buttons, his -breecheS and frlIed shirt, ana
gray worsted stockings, felt, all of a sudden,
chilled and depressed. He had taken his best
clothes from the chest of drawers, where his
mothers hand had last smOOthed them out, TO
do credit to the great occasion of drinking tea
with the priest. They had become him remark
ably well, too. He had not known Slbble was
to be there. But there she was, LOOKING more
beautiful than he had ever seen her But so
cold so angry, almost. Why. he had done MOTH
ing to bring that look to her face.
! Father Bannons housekeeper came in and drew
the curtains hiding the mountains and the cold
glimmer of the river In it's valley under the win
| ter evening sky. She lit the lamps and stirred
| the fire The room with it's books in dull bind
ings that had only an odd glmmer of gliding
its few good pictures, the sacred emblems on the
| mantel shelf the dog lying on the faded hearth
rug the snowy cloth, with china and silver Iaid
| for the tea, very grand and imposing IN
the eyes of Corney and Sibbie. Ihey almost LOT
| got their shyness of each other in watching the
priest ladle from the old silver caddy rev pre-
| CiOus spoonfuls of tea and pour the boiling wa
| ter upon Il. The tea was delciouS-moSt CRATE
full to Sibbie's feminine palate; but 1t did not
unlock her tongue. She had seemed quite Will
ing to chatter when she came In, but the arrival
of her fellow guest had frozen the current of her
speech. And for Corney. Corney was as dumb
| as though he had been born so.
While they slipped their tea from saucers, sit
| ting at arms length from the table. Father
Bannon eyed them with an expression half de
| spairing half waggish. He was obliged to talk
| for three cold curtain of constraint hung
| over the room He rallied, he coaxed, ne tried