The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1886-01-29

again refuse shan nave only myself 10
blame and you to respect. Farewell till
we meet again, sweet Fleur de Marie.
have a strange presentiment we shall yet
be man and wife Stranger things have
( happened"
I 'None less likely"
"Ah well, VIII not argue further
/ feel we shall meet again. Farewell
Think of me sometimes when your sing
ing brings flowers to your feet Remem-
4 Der. am no fsiC-weather friend. 1 am
waiting for you when the world has ceased
to smile, and your so-called frieuds turn
aside to worship at some fresh shrine. i
You are in tqouble, write to me; il You
/ want home, come to me. You do not
believe in plaaonics you sayf but Whist
offer is not fiiendship but love. FARE
/ WELL
There are tears in the blue eyes, s-sl
trouble in the beautiful face. as she turns
and stretches out both of her hands, ur,-
able to speak for sorrow that che has
nothing to give, only God-speed.
At last che says brokenly:
..Good- bye, friend. See, 1 believe in
your friendship, because you have the
courage to ea- l will remember your words
and if ara On trouble l will call you 10
my side. Bat my love-no, no, that ean
never give gou. See viii trust you, 1
will tell you~ and she comes nearer 90
! him, and whispers: That name YOU saw
lust now half traced on the sand ! have
| obliterated9 but nothing, not even the
wild vain tears l have shed. can wash
those letters from my heart. 1t is true Ss
you guessed Gabriel is my best, my
only beloved; the love l have for
him is a pzrt Of my being. II was
born when We sang together and starved
together in the London streets, it has
grown with my growth, and though its
blossoms haze been blighted by neglect.
nothing can root it ont from my heart.
am free. it is true. Gabriel is lost 10 me,
/ fear forever but still am bound. not
| by a promise. but by the force Of my own
feelings. The faculty for loving is dead
in me. since another has robbed ire Of his
object | now live only to give voice TO
my sorrow in song. My life Is like an I'M
finished story. the author Of which died
and left his work incomplete, OF cared
not to complete II. 1t is some consolation
to sing, and thus glvc vent to-but viii
not weary you. [ have said enough.
You see how it is. am not able to love
you. l have trusted you with my hearts
secret; it will. l kHaw. be sacred to You
as your mothers HAme. Now. l shall
send you away. 1 know of old what the
pain Of parting is when one loves Why
proloug il 2"
He holds her little white hand. that Is
soft as a silken glove. for one moment in
his own broad. brown palm. looking at IT in
loving wonder. then he touched the slight
fingers with his lips and left her with
one long, long look. but never a word
. L q. l.
towards the town. slowly. with steps that
drag wearily. and head bent down.
Once only. when he comes TO the sum
NIT of the cliff. he turns and sees her. the
woman who has just pronounced his ban
of exile. standing as he left her, with her
fair face seaward. leaning over the back
Of her twisted willow chair with its gay
colored cushions, while the fading sun
light falis on her dead-col hair. and
touches the are-cut crystals at her neck.
Il fancy. somehow. she viii yet be my
wife Stranger things have happened.
1t will not be for love, at least, not first
love. and no second quality is worth
much. But, ah. there are thousand and
one other motives which move a man or q
woman to marriage. l viii win her in
spite uf herself; but not now, not yet-in
years time, maybe"
CHAPTER v.
year had passed. The London sea-
son was at its zenith That turn in the
tide of fashion which brings the pleasure
boats back to town laden with loveliness,
talent. and wealth, had set in with sun
shine Of the brightest. London lay bask-
ing lazily in the sweet air Of June, with
pleasure at her head. and poverty at her
feet.
All the outlets of gaicty are thrown
open. On one Of the June evenings, per
haps the balmicSt out Of the thirty, the
Opera House at Covcnt Garden was
crowded from gallery TO pit with an en-
thusiastic and eHpectant audience. The
paybills, huttering from hand to hand,
announced a powerful caste for the per
formauce Of Aida" with Signora Leopar-
di. Signor Gabriel, and Fleur de Marie in
the title roLt.
The hum of voices grew stll as by the
spell Of raised finger; the sea Of moving
figures cease to Sway to and froj the or
chestra was silent.
Presently the music broke forth once
more, as if impatient Of control, and the
voice Of a woman was borne on It's swell
ing bosom, on waves Of infinite sound,
now rising. now falling, now pathetic, now
passionate, till at last, dying away by de-
grees, IL left upon the hearts Of the hear
ers that burden Of pleasurable pain
which is so strange a sensation, and can
only find expression in quivering sigh.
The short interval Of silence was fol-
lowed by such burst Of applause as is
not often hearri. The public literally
brought the house down with their We
herneut cries of .sFleur de Marie Fleur
de Marie"
Never had her voice sounded so spir-
itual, and yet so sad. 1t was as if each
note were a spoken tear.
She was, however, not listening to the
roar of many voices. OF the hurricane OF
clapping hands She did not heed the
flowers that fell at her sandRled feet.
She felt as one walking in a dream. She
only thought:
"What does il all avail. since he loves
me no longeri What Is fame to me. since
fail to lcok fair in his eyeSf oh, Cab
riel. Gabriel one hedgeruw wild blossom
thrown by your hand at this moment
would mean more to me than the costiIest
and rarest Of these eXotics. which are
cast. after all. so my voice. and not to me
She knew where he was, and how hs
was looking at her as ono looks at tho
Venus de Mcdici or any other famous ht
of beauty, critically and casually She
saw all this fIoIn under her droopinc
evelids. as she stood enduring tho worlsfs
applause. H. was leaning against a side
scene. Whispering and laughing with tho
Leopardi. with passion in hjs dusky eyes.
and a rose between his teeth. lie was
toying idly with it as be hal trifed with