Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-08-01
sROsAMOND FORD"


pearl, but with clear red bushes, crown
of auburn hair, dark, somber, glistening
eyes, bright, unsmlling mouth, slen-
der shape-that was my cousin Rosa
mond. Her mother-whom my father
had loved, but she married his brother
dying, Rosamond came to us.
MY father had been steward to Sir
Richard Furnival, (his great red brick
house could be seen from our garden),
but when poor Lady Furnival died, bad
advisers surro unded Sir Richard, and
my father was dismissed. People said
it was the way of the Furnivals.
They would take mans strength, a
woman's beauty for their own, but when
the strength was wasting, the beauty
waning, they would cast them aside vita
out conjunction.
Days went by, and / came no nearer
to my cousin. She still lowered aloof-
strange, cold, shy, and avoided all talk
about herself. Patient and industrious,
she lived her sober life without COM
plant. She seemed passionately fond
of music, but never heard her sing a
note. The young organist, tried to per-
suade her to Join his little band of sing
ers; but Rosamond steadily refused. One
evening Will and I were entering the
garden earnestly talking over concert
he was getting up to show what musical
Pra minister could do when it was put
in its mettle.
He pulled up suddenly within the fer
race and said, s'listen! Within my own
walls, there rose sound that set my
heart beating the sound of a woman's
voice, sound, strong, grand, singing the
chant we had sung last Sunday in the
cathedral.
ooh, WILL" 1 said. $50 pretty and such
voice! What are we to do with herr"
"She will sing and be famous, and
earn money, come in" SAID Will. ''What
in the world is the mystery, wonder, she
says, she can't sing, and we detect her
singing like an artist" AS we entered
Rosamond looked up from her sewing
and smiled family.
"Miss Ford,'' Will said. when does the
nightingale MARBLE.
My darling dropped her sewing and
turned as white as death. "Maurice, oh
Maurice, you have found me out! I
have never sung note since mothers
death till tonight and then because l
had forgotten myself. Oh, why did
you hsar-why was I so wicked.
Eyes, Rosamond." said Will, 1--WE did
hear you, and how dare you stif1e voice
that God created? For shame!"
''It was hard" she said. sbut listen to
me-"
"My mother was poor sickly ambi-
t1ous woman, who hoped to accomplish
through me all she had missed of this
worlds fame and riches. We were very
poor, and my needle was all that kept us
from absolute want. 1 had taken lessons
in music of Russian or Pole. who in
some strange way, had drifted down into
our little province, and who had once
been chorus singer at the Opera House
in London. This old waif told me I was
born to succeed on the stage. He wanted
to take me to London and have my voice
heard by acknowledged judges. When
I told my mother, one day, in a sort of
desperation, as we had no money in the
house, her anger was pitiful to see and
she forbade me taking any more lessons,
but afterwards, when she was asleep,
would steal away to Schuvalott's den, and
practice, and soon a great event occurred.
Some London Artists were announced
to sing some operas at our theater. /
presume, cousln,!you guess the end. One
of the singers was taken sick, and I took
her place. [ made some excuse to moth
er and stole away. l sung. I made no
great sensation but got through my part,
which was considered wonderful, consid-
ering my ignorance. When I reached
home.I learned some one had told of me,
aud that the excitement had killed my
mother, that she was dying. I rushed
to her, and screamed, cit was fol- you
mother dear, it was for you'll"
She only said, "For shame, unnatural
girl. There Is a curse upon you and
your voice, when you sing, may"
s'Oh, cousin, I saw the charge in her
face, and I tainted and was ill for many
long week after she was buried and
when I began to recover my voice was
gone, but the doctor said with health and
freedom from excitment it mgi hit come
back, but second attack would p1oba-
bly, be fatal to my voice.
''You see the doctor was right said
Maurice, ''your voice is come back clear
and glorious as ever"
'It brings me no hope,'' she said.
elbow could lever sing again, cousin?
I should hate myself
But by strategy and patience, tact and
perseverance we CONQUERED her fear and
morbid resolution, never to sing and even
obtained promise Of assistance in our
concert. Mr.. Dick Furnival, the only
child OF the widower, Sir Richard, at the
Chace. had promised to be at home with
some of his gay friends to attend the con-
cert, and had suggested the introduction
of a little popular music in our pro-
gramme, and he proposed the quartette
in Rigoletta. Rosamond was to be Gill
da. Shall I ever forget how she sang
that night.
That magnificent ringing voice, that
passionate and despairing soul that Sob
bed in every note. The applause was per-
fectly deafening. l glanced at Mr.. Dick.
He did not applaud-he sat quite still.
During the ten minutes interval Mr.. Fur
nival found his way to our little green
room. When he handed her bouquet
sent by Lady Mordum and assured her
of his fathers delight you ought to have
seen how she flushed-melted-