The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1884-03-13
cater This Adals;de CREW more frail

better at first, INT then she failed in that
fatally sure but imperceptible way which
only victims of consumption do, and grow
ing more radiantly beautiful, Tim, with
each succeeding day.
The old man dropped his head and did
not speak again until some one, going in
the opposite direction, shouldered roughly
against him and reused him.
SIT was then, Tim, that 1 learned to work
on the shoes. 1 only had what earned by
playing in the orchestra. You see there
were no great folks in New York who
wanted me to play for them"
"Ah, Tim, it is a great comfort to me to
think that Adelaide never wanted for any
thing which money could buy, and that she
never knew about the shoes!"
The old man said no more until Tim
asked:
And how was it about Sara, Uncle
latter it was all over" said Uncle Tony,
in a quiet, weary tone, 81 could not play.
There is much in us, Tim, which may die
out while we live on,"-with a long sigh
''and 1 lave worked only at the shoes
since"
He paused a moment and then continued:
MRS. Wicks-that was mothers name
then-lived in the house with us, and she
looked after Sara and 1. When Sara was
ten years old, mother came in one morning
looking very severe. After she had ar
ranged everything she said:
"'Mr. Marshall, you must get some one
| else U 10 WudUl nav Dcehu OlH oNcIS III
your wife died, and before, too, for that
matter. No that 1 don't want the money,
or that l mind the work, but'-she stopped,
and l asked her she meant. 'Well,'
said she, to tell you the u~nvarnished truth,
Mr.. Marshall, you are a widower. l am a
widow. The %neighbors 1iU ak l didn't
know what to do, and I told her so. You
see, Tim, l was used to mother She took
the kindest care of Adelaide, and l always
remember that. You know how mother
| rp,4Afhap ha- I-ocC Tim ruhon cha ic cav.
ing something very particular. Well, she
smoothed her dress, stopped a little, and
then said: 'We can fix it by getting mar
ried, Mr.. M~arshallp"
So she asked yoa Uncle Tony?" said
Tim, opening his eyes very wide.
"Yes, Tim. l should never have thought
of but one kind of marriage. Well, Tim, 1
knew that Sara must have a woman's care.
That decided me-"
"You know, Tim, that mother means well,
but at times is a little wearing"
Eyes, Uncle Tony, and she's pretty
savin'; always"
Just so, Tim. Well, she couldn't I'M
derstand Sara, and as Sara grew older,
mother wanted her to wash dishes, mend
the stockings and sew, and, as she said, be
like other girls Sara could no more do
these things, Tim, than a lark could draw
a pillow. You should have seen her perch
herself on my bench, Tim, and then heard
her sing. How size could sing! There never
was another such a throat!
"The summer Sara was thirteen an Ital-
ian singer took apartments in the house.
Many musicians came to see him, and Sara
was with them a great deal. She was a born
sopgstress, Tim She had the genius which
her father and her grandfather missed!
One morning, after the singer had
moved away 1 found Sara gone. In a little
note to me she said she had gone away to
me better tina all the world, and that she
would come back for me, her dear little
father-that was what she always called
me, finland make US all happy and
proud, and that lwas to be always sure she
was very good and was working hard"
The old mans voice had a sad little tremble
in it as he added, "and that was eight years
agow
"Y es, Tim Sara had been gone almost
a year when we came here"
"You found me in New York, didn't you,
Uncle Tony"
ayes, Tim. fast asleep in a packing box,
with your triangle in your hand"
D you know, Uncle Tony, that 1 al.
ways like to a my triangle with me. 1t
makes me feel kinder close to my mother.
She used to sing to me kinder clear and
wailin' like, but SO sweet! All about old
Ireland; and when 1 play my triangle it
seems as if 1 was hearin' her. She bought
me the triangle cause it was all she could
afford, and l liked music so. She took care
of me real tender, Uncle Tony, as long as
she lived"
SAN when she died your drunken father
put you in the street."
"Yes, and l am awful glad he did! II
he hadn't, you wouldn't have foun me-"
Sand, Tim, you and the triangle brought
music back to me-"
So these two, on whom the ills of life had
indeed fallen heavily, were thankful and
content. 1t is only when misfortune is
met with resentment and lament that she
is developed into haggard misery or vice
They were now in the central part of the
city. As they approached the theater they
found themselves borne along by the
crowding throng, up to the brilliantly il
Illuminated entrance. and on through int
the handsome auditorium, which was al
ready rowded
The usher looked at them Doubt ully al
he TOOK their tickets, which he exa mined
with great care.
Anthony Marshall. would never have
thought of going to the opera in any Other
than a dress-coat.
- His was of b~ottle-green cloth. The wais
line had been gradually rising, with hi
increasing weight and size, during thu
twenty years which had passed since i
was made, until now it gave his figure
very peculiar proportion. The half circl,
of fine gray hair, below his bald crown
!, was brushed carefully from the back, 81
that it just peeped over each ear. With hi
glass in his eye, and his self-possessed
R6nGle bearing, DlS appearances was mos
quaint and unusual; and as he and tn
misshapen, roughly-clad, handsome-face
boy passed down through the brilliant au
dience of elegantly-dressed men and womel
of fashion, to the very best seats in til
!. house, they attracted an attention whic'
even the ringing-in of the orchestra did no
divert from them.
The curtain rose, discovering Faust il
/ his lonely studio, a victim of d%isappoint
/ ment and despair.
E IT, --l TT~a1 49, H. IA lzLz
) breath each note. When Marguerite at he
, wheel was revealed to Faust, a hesitatine
anxious attention came into Anthem
Marshall's face, and he tool his glass fror
d. his eye and wiped it carefully. AS tn
, opera advanced and Marguerite sang "Ho,
, Strange tits to Me-" the old man graspe
Tins arm and whispered:
"Isn't it like her, Tim? Isn't it like tn
daguerreotype?-eh, Tim?"
Y Tim looked in a startled way, first at til
0 old man and then at the stage, and reptile
> softly:
v "Why, She is some like it, sure; sure"
, In the "Jewel Scene" the old mans SUI
pressed excitement grew intense, and h
exclaimed in a quavering whisper:
"Tim, if it isn't her, it is cruelty, cruell
$ like her! And, Tim, ii certainly, %ceruainl
n is her hand!-So like her mothers hand!
The act closed with Marguerite at til
v easement, and the old man rose in an III
r steady way with:
81 LII, lii u hdNO III LII u
through the gay audience they went, Til
leading now, and the old man followin
4 with a step almost as uneven as Tins.
They gained the street. The old mai
4 after drawing a long breath, dropped HI
head upon his breast and remained sever,
minutes in deep reflection. Then slowl
n raising his drawn white face to Tim, /
said:
81 believe we have seen Sara, Tim.
a cannot bear this suspense. Unjust go to tt
y Grand Hotel AMI know the truth-the trut
Tim-to-night"
= They stepped inside the theater as Ma
guerite was rising from her pallet of stray
Z Then her voice, full of heartbroken angui:
!, and passion of love, rang out in agonize
y pathos.
II With trembling hands the old man a
justed his glass, grasped the door for SUI,
d port, and, in a dazed exultation, trem
lingly whispered:
Come, Tim, come! tits Sara! 1t mat
p be her!"