The Helena independent. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1891-11-08

herself or to others if her bodice was ILL
| fastened, her crinkly, black hair unkempt,
and her head handkerchief lifted and
awry.
She was staring straight before her at the
hills and the sea, and seemingly scarcely
noticing the words of another woman who
stood by her with q bundle of faRots on her
head and her hand on her hip.
But the two forestieri heard what this
woman WAS saying, in a well-meaning, but
commonplace tone.
'Patienza, Liza. Patienza!" she said.
o what good is all this? Sorrow is nat
ural enough when ones child dies, if one
has not SC many that one can be spared.
because one feels it will be better cared
for. But to 60 mad with grief and weep
ones eyes away when one has no one left
to be eyes and hands for one, nothing but
harm can come of il. And it cannot be
denied that he could never have been
happy Acknowledgements. He had lost his
| voice for good and could not turn to any
thing else, because he was always mourn
! ing aud wretohed. 1t is not as if he had
kept his health and his voice as we'll, and
had been Il healthy, handsome fellow like
Giovanni, whom they say some rich foxes
teri have taken a fancy to and are going to
make into Il grand singer"
Lisa turned her face upon the speaker.
Her ~tear-iniamed eyes seemed suddenly to
glare a little like a panther's.
IluSl, blc hlA L kAo" uDOub unuNS
you may be sure enough that some one told
me-. You may be sure that now is the time,
now thathe is dead-dead-like that--that
l shall hear Of some other-some other
She choked and dropped her head in her
hands. Her thin breast heaved and strug-
gled as if it was imprisoning some fierce,
swelling thing which struggled to get out.
Go" she said. II wish you no ill, but
: carry your faggots home. You mean we'll,
but l want to stand here alone"
The peasant woman stared at her q Sec
| ond with Il questioning face, and then she
shrugged her shoulders and went away.
! turning into the sloping street near by.
The lady in black was breathing quickly.
at is the mother of the other,'" she
| whispered to her friend. II can under
stand, she is like me, only, that my boy was
not tired of his life. Perhaps two women
| like us will know what to say to each
| other"
The girls gray eyes had tears in them.
YES" said she-'yes, dear, but shO will
| not know that l can understand, too; she
| will only think that | an a signorina and
one of the forestieri, and she won't want
me: l will slip away"
1t was a curious thing which happened
when the lady in black drew quietly near to
the peasant. Her consoler having left her,
the woman had covered her worn facs-al-
most clutched it-with her hands, and the
strainlng, swelling, wild thing heaving her
| breast had broken its bounds and was Hhak-
ing her with tearing sobs.
It was an awful thing. Only mothers sob
like that-mothers who have looked into =
yawning grave where beautiful young hope
and e~xultant %buoyancy n strength lie
still-still and alone
The other mother felt the wild thing
swelling in her own breast, and bearing 1T.
+ Great drops rushed up and swept down her
,, face, and she put out her hand and laid IL
on the peasants arm.
','I-know you cannot help it." she said.
hrokenly.
They we're the first simple words that
came to her. Somehow 1t seemed merely
human that there should be in that mo-
ment no barrier between them. They
were not signora and peasant-forestieri
and Italian woman Of the p~eople-they
were onlv two mothers who had lost thu
blood OF their hearts.
The woman raised her poor face, wet,
lined, desperate.
Their eyes looked into each other.
The other mothers face was wet, too. and