Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1881-12-20
they quivered with her unspoken sympa-

1
his violin.
"It was my ALL" he said. 81 shall
starve now; but am glad Of that. for
did not love it only that it brought mt
bread. loved it loved it because il
talked to me, and with it ! was neve
lonely"
"But can you not buy another ;"
81 have no money, Miss. lean never
earn enough since this has gone. hae
hoped one day to buy something better
than this, but now the day will never
come"
A shade Of thoughtfulness crept ovel
the sweet, fair face In the little gloved
hand she held tiny purse and within il
three bright, glittering gold pieces shone
They were to purchase covered doll, he
fond fathers birthday gift.
She turned hastily to her governess.
please, Miss Irwin, do you thinl
papa would be displeased if | do not bu!
any doll. No, no-I know he would not.
Then, waiting for no reply, she pressed
the purse into the boys hands.
"Go buy your violin she said. mo
you must no. return this as you did the
other money but some day when you ar
grea, musician, you shall repay me
Who knows: you may play at my wed
ding"
And with little laugh, as the car
rage started forward, the child. with tn,
wave of her hand, disappeared.
The boy stood mo,ionless, wrapped il
a sort Of ecstasy. No doubt that yer.
liable angel had visited him, crossed hi
mind. Had he been dreaming: No
for within his hand lay the dainty little
purse. Opening it almost with reverence
the shining pieces Of gold met his gaze
but something else as well-a little piece
of pas,eboard, and upon it written q
name and address. The lad lifted it t
his lips.
1T is another deb, owe," he sale
softly to himself.
Ten years later, and on bright star
lit night in January. the New York Acad
emy Of Music was filled from pit to dome
The great violinist, Herr Carl Sieberg
was to appear, He was very young, no
twenty three, the critics said, and yet h,
had reached the zenith of his fame. A
great we've of applause greeted him, a:
he came forward to the centre Of the
stage. He was tall, but slight, with
large, dreamy eyes and mouth, whose
sensitiveness the blonde moustache could
not wholly hide. With soft, caressing
motion, he drew the bow across tht
strings. An almost human voice OF ex'
quisi,e melody seemed to respond. The
house held its breath to listen.
In one of the lower proscenium boxes
sa, young girl of nineteen. She wore
no hat, and in her hair there cleaned a
diamond star. She was beautiful with a
rare loveliness There was no faircr face
in all that crowded assemblage. Behind
her, leaning on the back Of ber chair, was
a young man whose gaze Of rare admira'
ton never withdrew itself-a man of su-
perb height and breadth Of form and with
eyes and hair dark as the night-eyes
which glowed with feeling as they dwel'
upon her face, for the hope nearest Fair
fax Farley's heart was TO win the woman
for his wife.
She turned toward him as the music
died, with quick indrawing OF her breath.
Tell me- she whispered, was it no,
perfect =
81 did no. hear it." he replied. IL
was thinking OF you"
A vivid flush, almost Of annoyance,
rose to her brows; bu, a, tina; moment
the young musician, recalled by the
laundering plaudi,s Of tie people, reap
peared.
His gaze now wandered over the house,
finally resting on that exquisite face. He
gave a sudden start. OF what, of whom
did it remind him, For a full moment
their eyes met; then, with sudden in
spiration, he drew his bow.
What was he playing: 1. was a ca
dence no man had ever heard before. II
seemed to tell an unknown story, if but
one could have interpreted it. 1t began
in storm of grief. Of passionate despair,
unreasoning. hopeless; then followed a
lull, rift in the clouds, sudden CLEAN
of sunshine, then heavy toiling Of wea-
~ feet, often torn and bleeding, but with
that rift Of sunshine never quite hidden
by the clouds overhead, no matter how
dark or how dense they gathered; then
came burst of triumph, a song of
victory, transport of passion and then
peace.
The last note seemed to have no end
ing. Its echoes fingered in a melodious
hush, and rang in the peals Of applause.
The girl in the box tore the violets
from her breast and threw them at Herr
Seiberg's feet. Flowers rained every
wheIe, but these only he stopped to ga
ther. These he held so tightly that their
crushed fragrance was waited to his senses
as be bowed his adieux.
The young musician was the lion oi
the hour. Fashionable ladies sought him
out. Invitations to fetes, and receptions
and dinners rained upon him. 1t was a.
one of these latter that he and Miss Lau.
renee met.
II have pressed your flowers he said
to her in a low voice.
"My Aowers:" she answered, with a
blush.
Then she remembered the yiolets she