Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1893-08-25

story which all save her mother read
drIgnt, wnen the world o. muslcal con-
noisseurS awoke TO the conviction OF |
Masses gnl 5 marvellous genius. MOL
warmer friend, no more enthusiastic
lumirer could the young Italian mates
Jro nave possessed UNKNOWN than this |
little English maiden dwelling quietly |
III her norLurrn nome.
When newspapers abOunded in de- !
tails OIL mat sudden triumph, breaking
ike swIIr and sudden sunshine into all |
the gloom OF struggling poverty,
Stephanie Fosters tears feel ike ram |
on the printed sheet. From that mo-
ment Mascagni became her hero.
Every transcription Tor the piano
forte which brought his melodies with
in her reach was ordered down from
London Alas. The time she had been
accustomed to spend at the instrument
was gradually diminishing, and the
hours she was forced to lie still We're
sensihly increased.
Mrs. Fosters most powerful argu-
ment in favor Of all the nouriShment
ordered by the doctors was that 1t
would be the means of making her
Well enough to enjoy her music. But
if she grew weaker, the girl had never
been more cheerful than she seemed
| just now. She read music, but she
talked even more, and with a charming
animation which quite deceived her
mother.
| Every evening at the hour Of dusk
she would slip from her sofa and go to
the piano, touching the keys as one
who loved them, and drawing through
them pathetic strains which Mrs.
Foster had never heard before. The
closing Of her little performance was
always the same; always that Inter
meZZO of mingled fire and sweetness
from the "Cavalleria Rusticana" of
which she grew so fond. Then her
heart thrObbed, and her beautiful gray
eyes flashed under their heavy fringe
until tears came, the cause OF which
she never attempted to explain.
| All through the following winter
Stephanie'S strength was dwindling
away. For days together they grew to
be silence instead of music, during
which she would lie Frustrated on the
sofa, racked by a low, teasing little
cough.
Her mother waited on her with abso-
lutte devotion. Looking out from the
window of the pretty inner drawing
room over tie hoar-frosted trees and
fields covered with snow, they talked
of spring; OF the time when the hedges
would burst into leaf, and the birds
| l\n h1jiI of how v
the woodland slopes looked when they
were covered as with Il blue sheet OF
wild hyacinthS.
Ii ever Il faint, sickly dread crept into
Mrs. Fosters mind as she assisted i'll
these pleasant word-pictures, she never
brcatned it to living soul, but tried t
drive it from her.
On WCnt the days. linking themselves
into Il chain of weeks-but Stephanit
grew no better One evening. driving
clouds were first hiding and then re
vealing the stormy looking moon; the
wind moaneG sorrowfully round tn
walls of the Priory; the chdog'
bayed in their kennels. Yet there wa:
a brightness Of the sick girls face
which her mother was surprised ant
delighted to behold.
Il feel better than l have felt 70
quite Il week." she said gayly, ''an'
strong-strong for me, | mean.
think | ran sit UP and play ID myscl
Ii little
There WAS no diSllading her.
Music is more powerful than doe
tors and medicine" she cried. lie
me enjoy what must surely be the hes
and lovelicst art in the world, mother.
And then with one of the smiles and il
the tone of her childish days she add
ed, sometimes, lying on the sofa O.
i'll bed, / think about the music W.
shall have in heaven. We often hea
about harps, don't we But l like t
ina giEe other Instruments, and thu
sweet toned violins joining in SOM
grand, solemn melodies which will
sweep through the great city of thu
saints, and set our hearts beating faS
with wonder and with joy"
She sat down at her piano, and TIL
proud, fond mother stood near to watcl
and listen. Presently-it was all Sc
; pdthetic-She shaded her eyes with he
hand; now and then Il suppressed en-
thuSams crept into her usually anxious
face. For how divinely Stephani'
was playing that evening. What hat
come over the gifted girl? There was
new power new tenderness in the
sounds she seemed drawing out of hel
own strange mood, her own inner life
where do all these musical fancieS
spring from, my littel girl?" said Mrs
Foster, when she began to fear the
after effects of all this exertion.
Stephanie started and trembled al
the gentle touch on her auburn head
which brought her down to earth from
out the realms of day-dreaming.
I-do-not-know,' she said, paus
ing between each word; then, in he1
usual tone, she added. They come tC
ne, mother dear! Sometimes this fire
light brings them, and sometimes it is
the sunshine. Tonight they reached
me in the voice of the wind, l suppose
But what can l imagine-I, a girl-as
compared with those who are the great
est and grandest?' And here the
dreamy look came back into the won
derful eyes. and she began to play the
opening chords of the beloved Inter
meZZo, and her mother was glad. She
took it as Il sign that the child would
let herself be led back to the sofa, to
rest again.
Wonderfully she interpreted the
thoughts of the Italian, to the very last
of the quavering, pleading, arpeggio