New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1882-03-15

curtains OF the managers box, and knew
that his last hope of saving her from this
life was dead.
A fixed purpose now shone from his
deep gray eyes. Working his way
through interminable corridors, through
masses of machinery and avenues of un-
slightly scenery, he at length found him
self at her dressing-room door, and
heard her well-known voice bidding him
enter.
Marguerite sprang to her feet as she
saw him, her eyes still feverishly bright,
her mouth still smiling, the violin Still
clasped in one arm, while the other held
huge mass of loveliest flowers per-
feet incarnation of triumph.
Earlston sprang towards her with a
cry of delight but with a little laugh she
thrust forth the violin, and so held him
off,
''You will spoil my flowers" she said,
with a playful pout. ''See arn't they
lovely?'
Eyes" he answered, starting back.
II would spoil your flowers, and so
have come to say real farewell
''Why? You are not going away?''
she asked, a troubled expression coming
into her face.
''Going West" he answered abruptly.
Perhaps |, too, may some day break
forth from my chrysalis; at all events,
l will find something more to do-some-
thing beyond this everyday plodding.
Good by and, without waiting for an
answer, he was gone.
In the corridors he found old Water
chen, his face zone vast substantial
SMILE his broken English pouring
forth in wild attempts at oratory, shak-
ing hands with every one-on the verv
topmost pinnacle of happiness.
''What! you CO., exclaimed the old
gentleman, Selling Earlston's unwilling
arm. ':Nein, nein, that makes not" as
the young man attempted to offer an ex-
cuse. ''We must hat little of good
times, IA sholly celebration, nicht-
qUa1r?''
But Fred slipped away at last, and
rushing forth into the night, soon lost
sight of the brilliant lights, heard no
longer the clatter and laughter; saw only
the awful blank in his future; heard
only the voices that called to him from
the awakening powers of the West.
All that Winter the fame of this Mar
guerite. this German Daisy, was sound
ed all over the length and breadth of
her adopted country. All that Winter
the young girl lived the restless, uneasy,
dissatisfying life of public performer a
popular favorite. All that winter Vat
erchen felt himself growing daily weaker
and weaker, the strong current of ex-
element preying upon his old, worn
frame until with the coming of June
roses he grew tired unto death. and lay
down for long rest.
Then Marguerite realized the loneli-
ness of her position, the isolation of her
new sphere, as never before. Cut off
from all old associations, placed in an
unreal atmosphere, surrounded by jeal-
ousy, rivalry and fattery, she longed
for
1.-THE touch of a vanished hand,
For the sound of q voice that was still!''
During the Summer she wandered
about from one secluded watering-place
to another, finding everywhere those
who were eager to claim an acquaint-
ance with the successful violiniste, but
none who cared to befriend the lonely
girl.
The opening of the season found her
again in the fitful maelstrom of profess
sional life the novelty worn away, all
ambition, save to requite the ones who
had drawn her out of obscurity, to pay
the debts that necessity had incurred,
dead or dying in her.
Then came the sorrowful ending!
One December night, after an un-
usually brilliant ovation, as she stepped
out into the icy street, holding her vio-
lin in her arms as she always would,
trusting no one else with its care, in the
short space intervening between hall
and waiting carriage, her foot slipped
and she fell heavily to the hard pave
ment. Even in the act of falling how
ever, the old instinct enabled her to
hold her beloved instrument out of
harms way, but the act cost her dear:
for her right arm received the full force
of the shock and was mangled and
crushed into an almost shapeless mass.
Who can tell of the dreadful struggle
that followed-the fierce rebellion
against the skilled surgeons hard de-
cree?
.'Oh! cannot. I must not lose it,
DOCTOR" the poor child screamed in her
terrible agony. ''You will not be so
cruel. There must be some way to save
it. There msust be-
my DEAR" answered the kind old
man, touched by her hopefulness when
all was hopeless. Il wish-I only wish
for your sake that there were.'
''Then let me die,'' she urged, pas
sionately, burying her face in the pill
lows.
But death when so entreated seldom
comes, and so a few weeks later, Mar
guerite sat in an easy reclining chair,
looking out on to the passers-by, her
fair face pale and worn, her empty
sleeve concealed under soft draperies,
by her loving maid, her bonny blue eyes
filled with despair.
Suddenly the door opened. There
was rush of fresh invigorating air, a
thrill as if some presence had entered.
The girl turned her head slowly, Ian
guidly, uninterestedly, and saw her
lover, unchanged save for the more reso-
lutte, manly bearing.
':Fritz!' she called half doubtingly,
and then sprang towards him.
"My darling," he answered, as he
clasped her close.
''But how did you know?'' she asked,
a moment later .'how did you know
where to come to me?''
'.The goings and comings, the haps
and mishaps, of noted persons, like
yourself, are all choice items for the
press" he answered. '.Away from all
news and habitations where I have been,
those ubiquitous sheets do not find their
NaY freQuentlY. hut when saw 7