Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1883-03-15

'"IeS, ~ - not meet IOr man. De
responds with q sudden flash Of the eye;
and with his head still erect be goes by
her side up the green lane at whose
further end stands the low, white farm
house; but ere he has trayersed rod
her footsteps grow slow and almost
faltering.
"waitr' she cries. pretending to be
breathless. II cannot keep pace with
you. See what pretty shadows yon
trees make. Do you remember you
promised to repeat to me the story of
yaur life again7 Why not now when
the birds are asleep. and the gloom is
round about us everywhere"
''But you know 1t already, "he aftirms,
looking down at her.
Ill have forgotten" she stammers.
How can he know, unsuspecting lad,
that il is but an innocent subterfuge on
her part to gain time. .
.'Well, tits the old story" he says
quietly. my mother was the daughter
Of wealthy Englishman. and while
summering at Rome she loved and mar
ried an Italian musician, against her
parents will. She lived but year,
and was left to the care of my father,
who instructed me thoroughly in the
rudiments OF his profession.
"At his death my grandfather claimed
me. and taking me to England. placed
me at school. Great care was taken
with my education, which had been
neA lected; but | was not allowed to
touch an instrument or practice note,
for he hated my fathers profession.
He was very cold and stern with
me. Perhaps it was because inherited
my fathers features as well as kis
tastes.
ITO satisfy the cravings of my nature
l was forced to disobey. We quarrelled,
and, taking my only earthly posses
sion, my violin, worked my way
across tho seas.
"That winter | spent in New York,
doing what could, but when summer
came, wandered forth again into the
country.
"Stopping at the door of your dwell
ing for draught of cold wator, !
learned that your good father was in
want of hands, so offered to stop and
work. 1t was better than hunger"
"Hc says nothing of the fever and
the weary weeksin the hospital" thinks
Beth sadly, land the wretched winter
As if in answer to the thought the boy
goes on:
''In the summer weather | was not
unhappy, but when the chilling winds
came again, and the snow fell, and all
the earth was wrapped in ice, / suffer-
ed, for in my own balmy cline"
''Bethr'
The girl starts hastily at the sound of
the familiar tones.
"You shall not go to the meadow-lot
tomorrow" she cries passionatcly.
"You shall not kill yourself so. You
are not used to toll 1t is well enough
for the rest, but your soul is finer than
theirs, as gold is finer than clay. They
are blind or they would see it."
The next moment the lad stands
alone.
He goes into the low-eaved kitchen
and tries to swallow his frugal supper,
but the food seems to choke him, so he
climbs slowly to his narrow garret, and
takes from its case the loved companion
of his wanderings, touching its strings
softly With long. delicate fingers, hard
ened and roughened by toll.
A few notes, the introduction to a
wild minor fugue, falls on the air--then
he lays the instrument down.
"Not tonight" he says wistfully in
his own musical tongue. "Not to-
night. l am strangely weary and my
veins seem on fire. How cool would be
the touch of her fingers on my head.
All! l shiver, too. 1t must be that the
cruel winter has come again with its
bitter, bitter cold, and its ice and snow
-ice-and-snow."
In the cool keeping-room below, John
Mansen talks to Beth, while the mother
plies her busy knitting-needles, and
Farmer Lawson mods over the news
paper.
She makes reply to her suitor as "a
sensible maiden should, and he cannot
know that she is looking far beyond
him, out to where in the early dusk, the
tall, boyish form had stood, aud in
place of his rugged countenance. she
sees only the thin, flushed face and the
dark fever bright eyes of the Italian
lad. Giuseppe.
The next day there was no one to
work in the meadow-lot, and the pallet
in the narrow garret is empty; but in
Beth's vine-shaded chamber. where the
breezes creep softly through the case
ments, the snowy pillows are pressed
by darker head than her own, and the
weak voice filling the air with incohe-
rent rawlings is other than hers.
He shall not die in this miserable
garrett" Beth had declared vehemently,
and in spite of all opposition he has
been carried down, and Beth installed
as nurse, clad in soft stuff gown, with
q muslin kerchief tied quantity over her
sunny hair.
"She is good child" says Mother
Lawson. at is kind heart that will
care for one not Of its own kim"
"She will make you famous wife,
john" quotes the farmer proudly.
Just see what a tender, handy little
body she is"
And honest John Mansen, watching
the tireless form fit hither and thither,
answers with q shake Of the head and a
look on his face that no one but himself
understands.
Twice a day the old doctor bends
over his patient, and once he says:
eff he dies it will be the result of ex-
posare and over-work." F"
And Mother Lawson, standing by the
bedside, responds in the mildest tone
she has ever been heard by mortal to
use:
''Well, / can't say about the exposure.
but the good Lord knows, II I'd a
thought the poor lad was so sickly, I'd
been the last one to oyer-driye him: