Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1893-08-09

her violin on h-r l,p. Whiting To be called.
her face unrulled. but her pulse beating
rapidly
IL was her g. 3 n aarance ON any stage
larger than her masters classroom or her
mothers pa'lor.
The cat and the mother. or the master
and his half GoAen pupils. had beeu her
largest aud cnce. the plain serge or ging
ham gown her richest robe
Tonight the great rink was crowded to
it's uttermost capacity. and she wore gos-
samer wonder. with delicate lace trim
mings and little fIills No one but herself
knew that she had paid for her lessons by
darning the old masters socks and sewing
on the ever loosening buttons; no one but
herself knew that she earned the lace by
eating her bread without butter for six
whole months for daughters have the right
| TO economize when their fathers sleep un-
der soft beds Of myrtle and the mothers are
invalids and III ali day in an easy chair,
and the dollars have to be counted every
month with stern repression Of tastes and
| luxuries The dear violin itself-she and
her mother had both given up many things
for that. till e. ny string could have told
| tale Of woe, All every note the bow drew
Perhaps that was why the old master
| shed tears sometimes at her simple improy
isations and told her she should yet make
| great audiences weep or smile and thrill
with delight, MI as she chose. All, IL she
| could only do IN the large places the won
| ders she and her soul knew In solitude
| could be douel
But all this has little TO do with Marga
| ret Parker waiting for Mr.. Cameron to con-
| duct her To the stage, save that 1t gave her
| a seriousness, and II lsladness, too, that lent
| her "a strange elarn and dignity a dignity
| unwarranted by her brief II years
At last she went on the sta q. She had
| not dreamed there were 80 many people i'm
| all the town, and their eyes seemed to draw
her, to invite and encourage her. Every
| face seemed to stand out with microscopic
| clearness. she noted IA thousand details of
attitude, attire and expression She saw
| that Mile Rogers had her lap full Of flow
ers, and she dimly wondered il any roses
| would he given TO her
Then she raised her bow and began. The
| ravishing, beautiful notesl They fell upon
a room so huslied that she could hear her
own breathing
| Then a great fright came upon her.
Would the divine music come in all this
| crowd, and IL il did not--then the faces
| drove every thought away, her hands grew
| stiff and chilly-the bow would not move
| her throat was parched and dry-she pant
| ed for breath. She gave quick sob, then
| dropped her head upon her beloved, false,
speechless violin, aud burst into tears.
Mr.. Cameron whispered words of encour
agement as he went with her to the ante
room. The sea of watching eyes followed
| her In a stiffness that was terrible. No
| flowers, no applause, no congratulations
| you will surely appear againf" said Mr.
| Cameron. "A second time It will be eas
| ierl" but she steadily refused.
The bitter night at homel For she buried
| all the hopes that the torch of genius had
been lighting for her. She saw that the
| dull, monotonous days OF poverty and OBJ
scurity must 20 on and on. She pictured
| herself an aimless, commonplace woman
without beauty because without hopes and
| aims and success.
All her universe lay crumbled at her feet.
| Could she ever face the dear mother in the
| morning and say that she had faileds Could
| she ever face the grim old master and say
| that she had failedi Could they ever sit
| together In the twilight, the treacherous
| violin and she, with the memory between
| them of all their pledges and promises and
| loves, now that they had once proved false
| to each othert And with such thoughts
| the slow night wore away.
| IL was the mothers voice that called to
| her I'm the morning with n thrill of unmis-
| taxable pride and delight, and the girl
FASTENED to her.
"It is big white box for you, dear. Open
| It quickly. Am crazy to see what is I'm i'll"
| Mrs. Parker was saying. 1t was the most
beautiful thing she had ever seen. The
| box itself was of silk and lace, and In 1t lay
-ahi roses, orchids and pinks, fragrant,
| beautiful massl She had never seen such
| loveliness such luxuriance, such delicate
| ravishing simmer of colorsl And Mr..
| Mayhew's card was among them.
The first thing she had seen when she
lifted her face from her violin the evening
before had been his eyes-large. dark, pene-
trating, full of scorn and surprise; eyes
| that always had been better and softer and
| more wonderful than any other eyes In the
| whole world; eyes that came between her
| and her violin whenever she played her
very best and wooed her on as IL they were
heaven itself All night they had kept
| their scorn and sorrow on her. and this
| morning he had sent her the fiowersl
| "Oh," said Mrs. Parker i'm delight, "you
| must have played wonderfully to get all
these as tribute today"
| "I failed absolutely" cried the girl, and
| again her tears fell.
| But could IL have been all scornf" she
thought, as the resemblance OF the glow in
his eyes came to her, aud the flowers spoke
softly TO her.
| Sooner or later all that we wish for comes
| to us, and Il was not long before she knew
| when the cat, the mother and Mr. May
| hew made an audience that never saw her
| unsuccessful and that often demanded
more. After all the hardly earned white
gown had better uses than to be the ad
miratipn of a thousand eyes.
To those who know the story II seems
| that 1t must be the memory Of that one sad
night which has made Mrs Mayhew 80 ten
| der of others pains and SO quick to find
| them. She wears no cross and has no mis-
| sion, but In all Mayhem should there be
| any one Ill or discouraged or In disgrace,
| any one weary or heavy laden with bur
| dens, for such there are always boxes of
| choicest flowers from the successful mill
owners conservatory. In the heart of many
| an aspiring young girl, who wonders how
| the elegant woman can understand poverty
| and self denial, live gracious and inspiring
| words But there Is dingy, old time gown
| hanging I'm Mrs. Mayhew's wardrobe that
she can never see without n thrill and an
| impulse TO \ iss its limp laces. II IN famil-
| with tears IL has been encircled with
| caresses; IL understands much, but Il never
| tells. and why should its happy owneri-
| Laura Brown in Boston Courier.