The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1878-08-24

imperfect words had told us too plainly
that 1t was while stretching over the
edge OF the precipice to gather blackber-
RES Tor him that his mother had lost his
footing and fallen headlong down. My
Wl1e would spend hours by the bedside.
L ventured to demonstrate, and got a
severe snubbing for my pains.
One evening about a week after the
catastrophe, while l was waiting for her
at spot hard by the sanctuary where
we often sat, she came tlp to me in the
most excited frame of mind. Twas real
ly alarmed; had never seen her eousble
temperament SO disturbed
20 Walter" she exclaimed. "I have
just came from the poor woman. and I
have had such a shock! She has re-
gained consciousness but not her senses
which the good trats who watches her
always, tells me frequently happens in
such cases."
But what of that? Why should it
excite you sop | asked, quite mystifed
by my wife's words.
All, / don't know; cannot tell YOU :;
my hopes, my belief, have hardly taken
form yet; only come quickly with me up
to the house. o Walter, it is all so won
derful! Come, let us 90 on faster; l
want so to get back that you and both
may listen to Lucia Vianero's broken
words, prove their meaning, and so clear
up doubt that"
"What do you mean?' [ cried.
"What can she have said to SO strangely
move your and l inwardly thought,
40, that | had never consented to her
holiday"
~ will tell you if you will only hurry
on as fast as you can. Signs OF ANNA
ton set in about an hour ago, and her
| first words were Paolo, Paolino' / held
the boy up to her, but she took no heed
OF him, and went on murmuring another
name over and over again so often that
| felt quite mysteriously affected. 1t
was" But here reaching the door of
the chalet, my wife hurried me to the
| bedside.
The old monk held up warning fin
ger as we entered; we hardly dared to
draw breath as we listened to Lucia's
low, unconscious tones.
Giorgio, Giorgio, mio," she was say
ing in Italian, like one who talks in a
dream, "never tell of our marriage:
they will not love me, they will neglect
me. Hide it and the little one, too; do
not let them see him; they will break
his heart with GOODNESS, they would not
even own him! Yes, perhaps your sis
ter might, for she loved you, Giorgio,
MIC; you have told me so. She felt for
you, and wept for you, and knew why
you went away, and came to live in the
midst of sunny skies and beautiful pic
lures All, well, you can tell her if you
like; she would love Paolino for your
sake. Look at him, Giorgio. Kiss him"
Here she seemed once more to lapse
into Inconsistencies, and the good fTate
said:
"Ah, poor Lucia, her mind wanders
back to her marriage, and mingling past
and present, she speaks of what never
was; the father never saw the child"
Did you know her husband thenw
inquired my wife in Italian.
The frate shook his head. "Only the
circumstances of the marriage"
"Tell me, what we've they?" she ex-
claimed, clasping her hands in an agony
of excitement.
"Simple, very simple" said the holy
man, quite unmOved, and Struggling his
ample shoulders; ga young English
man, an artist, living in Florence, and
who had made Italy the land of his
adoption, and who took an Italian name,
fell in love with Lucia, who was his
model, and married her; not an unusual
occurrence among your countrymen, [
believe" he added, turning to me.
| was bewildered; did not know in
the least what to make of all this, and |
have no doubt | looked as stupidity help
less as | felt.
"And them" eagerly inquired my
wife, Selling the trate's arm, and looking
into his face, after casting a glance of
unutterable scorn upon me.
He made little home for her, and
everything promised well for their hap
piness, when he was taken suddenly i'll,
broke blood-vessel, and died in Lucia's
arms"
"Do you know what his English
name Was?" here again hurriedly in
CURED my wife.
What can you possibly want to
know that for?" inter posed in English,
quite in the dark as to what she was
driving at.
40 Walter, Walter how stupid you
are!" she answered, thOwing more and
more contempt into her words and man
ner; does nothing suggest itself to
you? Can't you guess what am thinking
of? Tell me-" she said, again repeating
her question in Italian, and turning to
the monk, tell me the English name
of Lucia's husband; do you know what
it was?"
"Si, Signora, 81; but | cannot reveal
it; it was made known to me under the
seal of confession"
Seeing that she was again about to
urge the frate to grant her request, [
entreated her to be silent, and to look
after little Paolo, who was climbing up
to his mother and trying to make her
play with him.
"Ahp she then exclaimed, "dear lit
tie fellow; do look at him, Walter, and
then think of his fathers assumed
Italian name-Vianero; think what its
English equivalent means"
More bewildered than ever, | obeyed
her command and began to think, while
she, once more in Italian, earnestly en-
treated the trate to tell her the name.
"For mercy sake, let me know" she
said. az am not asking out of idle curl
osity, but only that love and service may
be rendered to the memory of the dead.
| feel that ! am on the point of discov-
cry tell me am | right in believing that
his name was George Blackway?"
The old monk started at these words,
and so did /; for this was the name of
my wife's only brother, whose death
was the piece of family sorrow referred
to at starting.
/ A bit of scapegrace. with strong turn