Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1884-09-25
MADDALENA'S LOVERS.

cast fly, when | came upon a Tarnl-
liar nook. 1t was the second day OF
nv holidays, the first | have spent for
many years In the home of my child
hood. On the previous day | had been
disappointed to find that | remember
ed so little Of the scenery; now, IN this
most memorable of all our haunts,
everything flashed back upon me.
Giving way gladly TO the dreamy
MOOD, flung myself down on moss
covered rock that Overhung the river
AMI began to watch the clear, brown
waters as they rippled over the stones
and through the rushes. In q few
moments | was deep IN memories OF
the past.
For several reasons, some Of which
NAV appear as [ go on, think l snail
write down the little history of which
nv mind is full, and let some OF my
friends sec it. Perhaps then they
will understand more clearly how 1t
is that the things are as they are with
us; perhaps they will believe me when
[ say that, even in this prosaic nino-
tenth century, heroic lives are posi-
BILE.
Though my twin brother and | had
something to say to the story | am
about to relate, neither OF us was It's
hero. The honors belong to NADIA
lena, and to explain how Maodalena
came to be what she was, L shall
have to refer to certain events that
happened some years before we we've
born.
Mr.. Seymour. an elderly aud some
what eccentric Englishman, was trav-
cling one year through the north OF
italy. He came to Florence, which,
with its treasures of art, so bewitched
him that he could not tear himself
away. He was alone, having left his
wife and grown up daughter at Men
tone. As was his custom upon these
occasions of solitary travel, he avoided
the finely-appointed-hotels, which
English people love too frequent, and
nut up at small, unpretendIng inn,
visited principally by Italians.
He had not been more than two
DAYS at the hotel before he was at
tracted by his neighbor at the table
d'hOte. She was a child, probably
vbout 7 years Of age, quick, clever,
vivacious little Italian, with small,
round, olive tinted face, expressive
brown ewes, and dark curly hair.
She had for a companion pale faced,
worn-looking woman, who, although
she treated the child with the most
perfect Indifference, appeared to be
her mother.
The sharp child, discovering the i'm
preston she had made on the grave
faced Englishman, began to play off
all her little airs and graces upon him.
She must have been delightfully."- COM
ic as she smiled and made eyes at her
neighbor, or shocked hina by flying
into mimic rage, or bewildered him by
rattlino nonsense music on the piano.
Being a serious man, Mr.. Seymour did
not see the comic side of the little
maiden's performance. 1t grleved
him to the heart to think what the
childs future would be, and shy as he
was he introduced himself to NADIA
lena's mother, and ventured on few
words of remonstrance.
She listened politely, expressed her
regret that her Lena should have an
moved him, and said that owing to
her occupation--she was a concert
singer-she could not look after her
child as SIZE would wish to do. The
sole consequence Of Mr.. Seymour's
interference was, that on the next oc-
casion when the mother went out to
sing. Lena was tied up in her room to
keep her quiet. He heard her weep
ing and lamenting, ventured on the
bold step of releasing her, and from
that day the two became fast friends.
T.. 4 ,,c % nj
Mr.. Seymour visited Florence agalE,
this time in the company Of his wife
and daughter. Tie place reminded
him of Maddalena, and he deter
mined to find out whether she and
her mother were still III the hotel
where he had left them. 1t was even
ing when he started on his quest,
which led him through the oldest
part of the city. The inn he sought
was close to a concert room. In front
of this and mpletely choking up the
narrow roadway. there was a dense
throng of people. Supposing some
popular entertainment TO be about to
take place, Mr.. Seymour pushed his
way through the crowd. He was in
the midst of it, when a shrill sound
of cries and lamentations fell upon
his ear. He was a pitiful man, and
he stopped to see what had happened.
In the next instant the child of
whom he had been thinking, the lit
tie black browed Italian girl, had
sprung UP from under his feet, and,
grasping his hand, was dragging him
forward.
Under the arc of flashing light that
spanned the foor of the building
there was heap of something dark.
Mr.. Seymour touched it, but it did
not move. Then he took it up in his
arms, and, followed by the weeping
child, carried it reverently to the inn,
which was close at hand.
Nothing was known in Florence of
the dead singer; and although Mr..
Seymour made the case, with all its at
tendant circumstances, widely known
through the Italian press, no one APP