Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1881-12-20
be my pupil, it would be indeed a plea

His face flushed.
81 need no gold," he responded. at
is that some day you shall hear my
story"
81 see nothing Of you, Selma" said
Farley. during this time. ' Do you for
get that have some claims -
"No, forget nothing, she said
But there was sadness rather than hap
piness in her tone.
"Are you not ready to give me your
answer, dear" the man continued. Why
do you hold me in suspense Why, dar-
ling, may not have the sweet promise
that l crave.'
Did she shudder, II so, it was but
momentary, as the sweet young voice
made answer.
"True," it said, "you have been very
patient but be so yet little while long
er. Let me be sure Of myself. 1t is
only for this assurance, Fairfax, that !
wait"
But underneath Fairfax Farley's cour-
teous calm was a seething maelstrom, a
burning jealousy.
Two weeks later, he waited outside
Miss Laurence's home until Herr Seiberg
stood on the steps, in the moonlight. He
had been passing the evening with her.
The two had dined at her table. An
hour before Mr.. Farley had made his
adieux.
Herr Seiberg!'
1t was his voice addressing the musi-
clan.
"Yes,' he responded, his surprise show
ing in his tone.
IL have waited for you,' continued
Mr.. Farley, " in order to ask of you IA
vor. 1t is great favor, but moaey need
be no object between us. am willing
to pay you any price, however fabulous !;
and although | know it is out Of your
line, | want very much that you should
play one solo at my wedding"
In the moonlight Herr Seiberg's face
showed strange pallor.
AT your wedding! You are to be
married: May inquire to whom
"Miss Laurence is my betrothed. Had
you not heard :"
Both in question and answer rang a
strange intensity; bu. the silence that
followed had in its dumbness more force
than either. Then Herr Seiberg spoke.
"To-morrow night, at this hour, you
shall have my decision" he said, and
rapidly strobe away.
Before noon, the day following, Miss
Laurence received Herr Seibergs card.
Penciled on it were these words:
Pardon my intrusion, and grant me
half hours interview in which to bid
YOU farewell
Farewell There wac 4 certain spas
modic hu,,ering Of her heart as she dim
ly realized its purpor,.
What did this sudden departure por-
tend ana why-did it cause this faint
sickness which stole through her every
pulse and fibre OF her heart
"Show Herr Seiberg up" she said to
the servant then, schooling herself to be
calm, sat awaiting him.
On the threshold OF the room he
paused.
You asked me once, Miss Laurence"
he began, 1.-The story my violin told
on the night we met. | answered you
that some time you should know. Would
it weary you to hear it now =
She bowed assent, and motioned to a
chair, but he stood still.
IL must 60 back many years. he
said. ",o the time when was little
lad, foo.sore and friendless. Nay, not
friendless. Nay, no, friendless had
one friend-a poor piece of wood with
strings across it; but forgot that it was
wood. In my hours OF loneliness, and
grief, and sadness, would talk to it,
and then, by idly drawing the bow across
the strings, it would answer me. All,
no one would have believed it but my
self: but it painted to me the future-it
told me all that might be. 1t whis-
pered courage-it breathed hope. One
day, strolling through the streets, touch
ing its chords, asking no alms-I never
begged boy older than |, taller, and
stronger, boy richly dressed and with a
gold chain hanging at his vest, stopped
and Knocked me- walked on silently.
He followed me, and in an unpreparcd
moment snatched my violin, and snappiug
it across his knee, threw it into the filth
and mud Of the street.
81 was stunned. The magnitude of
my loss overwhelmed me. The surging
tide of my despair closed in about my
soul. saw neither earth nor sky-no-
thing save the shattered, voiceless wood.
Then he who had wrought the wanton,
wicked act, threw me coin. 1t reused
me from my stupor. caught and hurled
it back. Not thus might he pay the debt
| owed to him.
"In that moment carriage passed.
Seated within was q beautiful child-a
girl. She orderded the coachman to
stop. She had heard something Of what
had happened. She inquired the cause
of my distress. Then, with q tender
pity in her eyes. and a voice like music,
she put her purse into my hands. and
bade me use its contents as would.
"'Some day. she said, when you are
great musician, you shall repay me.
Who knows you may play at my we'd
ding"
The girls head was bowed now. Her
bosom rose and fell. Two sparkling