Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1881-10-31
written name and address. The lad
lifted it to his lips.
at is another debt owe," he said
softly to himself.

Ten years later, and on bright star
lit night in January, the New York
Academy of Music was filed from pit to
dome. The great violinist. Herr Carl
Seiberg, was to appear. He was very
young, not twenty-three, the critics said
and yet he had reached the zenith of his
fame. A great wave of applause greet
ed him as he came forward to the centre
of the stage. He was tall but slight,
with large, dreamy eyes, and a mouth
whose sensitiveness the blond monstache
could not wholly hide. With a soft,
caressing motion he drew the bow across
the strings. An almost human voice of
exquisite melody seemed to respond.
The house held its breath to listen.
In one of the lower proscenium boxes
sat young girl of nineteen. She wore
no hat, and in her golden hair there
cleaned diamond star. She was beau
tiful with rare loveliness. There was
no fairer face in all that crowded assem-
blage. Behind her, leaning on the back
of her chair, was young man whose
gaze of rapt admiration never withdrew
itself-a man of superb height and
breadth of form, and with eyes and hair
black as the night-eyes which glowed
with feeling as they dwelt upon her
face, for the hope nearest Fairfax Far
ley's heart was to win this woman for
his wife.
She turned toward him as the music
died, with quick indrawing of her
breath.
"Tell me-" she whispered, "was it
not perfect ?"
81 did not hear it, he replied. 81
was thinking but of you"
A vivid flush, almost of annoyance,
rose to her brow; but at that moment
the young musician, recalled by the
laundering plaudits of the people. reap.
peared.
His gaze now wandered over the
house. finally resting on that exquisite
face. He gave a sudden start. Oh
what, of whom did it remind him? Fol
full moment their eyes met; then
with sudden inspiration, he drew his
bow.
What was he playing? 1t was ca
dence no man had ever heard before
1t seemed to tell an unknown story, i
but one could have interpreted it. L
began in a storm of grief, of passionate
despair, unreasoning, hopeless; ther
followed lull, rift in the clouds, ;
sudden CLEAN of sunshine, then heavy
toiling of weary feet, often torn anC
bleeding, but with that rift of sunshln,
never quite hidden by the clouds over
head, no matter how dark or how dens
they gathered, then came burst of tri
umpb, a song of victory, transport 0
passion, and thence peace.
The last note seemed to have an end
ing. Its echoes fingered in melodiou
hush, and rang in the p@ans of applause
The girl in the box tore the violet
from her breast, and threw them at Her
Seiberg's feet. Flowers rained every
where, but these only he stopped t
gather. These he held so tightly tina
their crushed fragrance was waited t
his senses as he bowed his adieux.
The young musician was the lion c
the hour. Fashionable ladies sough
him out. Invitations to fetes, and re
ceptions, and dinners, rained upon hin
1t was at one of these latter that he an
Miss Laurence met.
81 have pressed your flowers" b
said to her in low voice.
"My fowers?" she answered with
blush.
Then she remembered the violets st
had so impulsively thrown him.
81 had almost forgotten, she adde,
"What was it, Herr Seiberg. that yo
played? 1t has haunted me ever since.
"Some day." he replied, 81 will te
you. Now you shall know only tn;
you were its inspiration
Were his words presumption? 81
could not answer; neither could 81
r know the strange power which ev
l swayed her in this mans presence.
4 "You do not teach ?" she said to hi
s one day.
"No,' he answered. "But if you W
be my pupil, it would be indeed plea
ure."
: "And your terms ?"
Y His face flushed.
81 need no gold," he responded. 9
is that some day you should hear r
e story"
o
}, 81 see nothing of you, Selma" sa
i Fairfax Farley, during this time. %
n you forget that ! have same claims 2"
! "No, forget nothing" she said.
It But there was sadness rather th
happiness in her tone.
e ''Are you not ready to give me yo
e answer, dear?" the man continue
"Why do you hold me in suspens
n Why, darling, may | not have the sw'
r. promise that crave ?"