Butte record. (Bidwell, Butte County, Cal.) 1853-1858, 1857-04-04

to cary round the clothes, and that is
all SIR
1T was very good in you, Bridget,
to take the little orphan. You have
saved her from sad fate. You will be
rewarded, you may depend
Bridget rais ed her eyebrows and
dropped courtesy, while little 'Casta
Diva,' as Mr.. Patron then. and ever
since called her, hid her face in the
bed, and sobbed to hear her own story
related. The kind gentleman looked
at her tenderly, and then continued:
4 have plan for this poor child,
which will at once relieve YOU of your
charge and repay you for your good
ness of heart. Good night, little one;
In come tomorrow. Dry your tears
for | will yet make you happy. Here,
Bridget, is some money for you, and
be sure you do not send her out to sing
again. l have something better for
her TO do
Bridget dropped another courtesy
and her mouth opened wide, for she
was all mystifed and bewildered.
An hour later and Mr.. Patron is
again seated in his easy chair before
bis bright coal fire, with his dressing
gown once more folded around him.
The only difference IS that he smiles
instead of sighing as he did before.
'Ah, yes, Sc says. 4 see my way
clear. l can now without hesitation,
call upon Nine. Victor in her room, to
interest her about my little Casta Diva.
| will tell her the story, and engage
her to cultivate the voice of my little
protege. | will see her tomorrow
morning, and perhaps she will accom-
pany me to Bridget's lodging. Not
very romantic walk to invite the la
dy of my heart TO share, but the cir
cumstances are peculiar.
Now | think of it. must engage OF
my landlady the little bedroom next
NINE | am determined to adopt that
singing cherub for my own. [ will
chance her name 10 Casta Diva Patron.
1t sounds musical, and she Is music
itself. If sweet Nine Victor only sees
in her what | do, we shall be an amaz-
ingly happy family. | declare, [ feel
like a husband and father already. l
shall find enough to do with my money
after ALL
And he goes to bed and dreams of
his future joys till ne fairly laughs aloud
in his sleep.
Now it is morning, and if you will
put your head out of your door, you
can see him going along the hall. He
stops at No. 6, knocks gently, but the
rich toned piano, touched by thrilling
hand, does not allow so lovrlike tap
to be heard. This time he knocks
louder, the music stops, and the door
is opened by beautiful woman, who
smilingly invites him to enter. Well,
| don t wonder he fell in love with her.
They have closed the door. Lets you
and l go peep in at the kevhole, and
hear what they say; I'll never tell,
will you? Hark, well, after all. | can't
tell what they said now, because | pro
missed l wouldn't, but Mr.. Patron has
staid in there a great while, and he
didn't ask her to play or sing once al
the time.
Now the door opens again, and they
come out together, he in his overcoat
and hat she in her cloak and velvet
bonnet. He looks very much excited
and she looks pale, and trembles so she
cannot speak. She takes his offered
arm and goes down stairs and out the
street door. | do believe they are 60
ing to Bridget's
And so they were
Good Mr.. Patron walks slowly with
the sweet lady, for she has every rea-
son to ,remble; she believes she is
Lauretla's mamma, for she has beer
telling her friend how her husband was
killed in a mob one dreadful day be-
cause he was great politician, and
when they burned his house they took
her and threw her into prison, where
she remained whole year, and only
made her escape when, during terrible
troubles in Italy, the prison doors were
unbarred to all.
She sought franticslly for her child
but in vain, and believing that botf
Lauretta and her nurse were crushed
in the same mob that killed her hus-
band, she came to America to try anG
earn livelihood among hospltablt
strangers BY her fine musical education
and uncommon voice.
Nine Victor believes that Lauretta
is her child, because their two storie,
are SO strangely alike. Five years
have passed since she left Italy; bu
she knows her eyes will not deceiv,
her. Her baby's features re Indeli.
bly, emgraven upon her heart
Her kind friend suppors her up the
five flights of stairs, and then she stop:
to take breath and to nerve herself fo
either intense happiness or heavy dis
appointment.
They are about to enter the room
when little voice greets her ear, sing
ing with wonderful power and expires
sion, an Italian melody, which the la
dy herself used to sing in her own sun
ny land. She stops and grasps tn
arm of her friend.
| 'Oh, wait she whispers 'let me try
and With -reat effort she cotinues an