The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1884-03-13

Well, the great folks liked my playing,
and some of them sent for me to come up
to West End almost every night, after l
was through at the theater. 1t was in that
way that became acquainted with AIDE
laide, Sir William Norton's only daugh-
ter"
Uncle Tony's tone had been growing
lower and lower, and now with bent head,
he walked on in silence until Tim said
softly:
"Wh-where is Adelaide now, Uncle
Tony"
All" said the old man raising his head,
and lifting his rusty silk hat reverently,
''she's an angel, Tim; an angel with God,
these many years"
A few moments and he went on huskily:
"After time, Tim, we stole away and
were married"
'There never was Iovelier being, Tim,
than she was" The old man sighed
heavily and went on in silence until Tim
said:
"Was she ever in America, Uncle Tony? ,"
EYES," said he, rousing himself. Eyes.
When Sara was born, Adelaide called her
Sara for her dead mother. When her
father heard of it he wrote her. This was
the letter, Tim, remember every word of
it: You have insulted your lady moth
er's sainted memory by calling Anthony
Marshall's daughter by her name. l will
never look upon your face again, nor hear
from you, if l can avoid it!'"
''He was mean, hard one, wasn't he"'
said Tim, his brown eyes flashing indigna-
ton.
81 don't suppose he meant TO be. l be-
lieve l can understand how it was" said
the old man in his gentle, direct way.
"After this Adelaide grew more frail
every day, and, for the sea voyage and the
change, we came to America. She was
better at first, and then she failed in that
81
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.
1T was then, Tim, that learned to work
on the shoes. l 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, il Is 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
Tony:"
After it was all over" said Uncle Tony,
in quiet, weary tone, Il could not play.
There is much in US, Tim, which may die
cut while we live on,"-with long sigh
land | have worked only ut 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 l. 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 to do what have been doin' ever since
your wife died, and before, too, for that
matter. Not that l don't want the money,
or that mind the work, but'-she stopped,
and | asked her what she meant. We'll,
said she, to tell you the unvarnished truth,
Mr. Marshall, you are d widower. l am
widow. The neighbOrs l1tU talk l didn't
know what to do, and told her so. You
see, Tim, was used to mother She took
the kindest care OF Adelaide, and l always
remember that. You know how mother
smoothes her dress, Tim, when she is say
ing something very particular. Well, she
smoothed her dress, stopped a little, and
then said: we can fix it by getting mar
ried, Mr.. Marshallr"
I" So she asked goa, Uncle Tony" said
Tim, opening his eyes very wide.
"Yes, Tim. l should never have thought
of but one kind of marriage. Well, Tim,
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"
Yes, 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 lark could draw
plow. 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 throat!
"T 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 Il great deal. She was a born
| soDgstress, Tim. She had the genius which
her father and her grandfather missed!
"One morning, after the singer had
moved away found Sara gone. In little
note to me she said she had gone away to
study and be a great singer; that she loved
me better than 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 was 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, land that was eight years
agow
land it was in New York, wasn't itD
s'I es, Tim. Sara had been gone almost
| a year when we came here"
''You found me in New York, didn't you,
| Uncle Tony"
Eyes, Tim, fast asleep in packing box,
with your triangle in your hand"
"Do you know, Uncle Tony, that l al
ways like to have 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 50 sweet! All about old
| Ireland; and when | play my triangle it
seems as if | 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"
"And when she died your drunken father
put you in the street."
.'Yes, and l am awful glad he dill! If
he hadn't, YOU wouldn't have found Ile."
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. It 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 into
the handsome auditorium, which was al
ready crowded.
The usher looked at them doubtfully as
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 bottle-green cloth. The waist
increasing weight and size, during the
twenty years which had passed since it
was made, until now it gave his figure s
very peculiar proportion. The half circle
of fine gray hair, below his bald crown,
was brushed carefully from the back, so