Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1893-08-25
lnterne33o.
Madison, Wis.

Mrs. Fosters friends declared it to
be a purely nervous fancy against
which it was her duty to strive, when
she persisted in assuring them that her
pretty drawing room was filled With
certain soft strains OF music towards
| evening time. No one but herself could
hear it, and therefore no one believed
in it; nevertheless, to Mrs. Foster 1t
was a reality against which no reason
ing, no appeal to her common sense,
had power to prevail.
At first, in her grief and loneliness
after Stephanie's death, these strains of
music seemed full Of sweet consOla-
ton; but gradually they became tor
| ture. In the end this was the cause OF
her giving up the house to which she
had come as young and happy Dflde,
and from the door OF which she had
seen the collins of her husband and
daughter carried.
This child had been the only one
born to Stephen and Lucy Foster She
had been delicate from the first day OF
her life, and was reared to the age OF
fifteen in fear of every trifiing ailment
or reatening sickness. Then the girl
seemed to grow thinner and more frail
during an entire year, dying at the end
of it without any definite complaint.
AS a tiny thing Stephanie had been a
musical genius music mad, her
nurse called her. Her baby mind
grasped the mysteries OF the keyboard
of the piano more easily than the let
ters of the alphabet, when she sue
ceeding in producing some little air,
| a strangely grave, sweet smile bright
ened the delicately formed and senSl-
tive face.
At the age Of twelve, Stephanie was
a singularly pretty girl, masses OF dark
auburn hair cOntraSted with her gray
ewes. black browS and lashes, and
though her cheeks were pale, they
showed the red at every wave OF emo
ton. Under her touch, the piano was
not the common place instrument we
are beinning to think it: it was Il spirit
that she seemed able to invoke. She
would sit playing without book strange
melodies full of minor cadences which
touched the heart of any sympathetic
listener: sometimes the child herself
WOlllu rise. anu StDb1uS NliIClAH, 1''S
her head against her mothers breast.
She talked of music more than OF
ANYTHING else, and Il story of musicians
of the past or present, of their struggles
and their ultimate successes was more
delight to Stephanie Foster than any
tale of fancy or of romance.
Had she possessed many girl friends
they would have wcaried off her musl-
cal enthusiasm; but she made no close
alliance with any; her mother was all
that she needed, and they were wrap
ped up one in the other.
Not. however, that Mrs. Foster had
any similar genius. She was one OF
these women who, if left to themselves,
put away their music with their early
youth: she had kept herself in practice
as very mediocre player and singer,
solely to make herself cOmpanionable
to her young daughter.
If the mantle had fallen from the
shoulders of any of Stephanie'S anceS-
; tors, if the sacred fire was hereditary,
it must be traced as far back as to one
of her fathers great-aunts, Cicely Eos
Ter. whose melodies on the harpSichOrd
were a tradition in the family. Stephen
Foster himself was like the man in the
oft-ouoted story who could only recog-
nize the national anthem because the
audience rose when it was played. He
, had only lived long enough to forsee
that this fair little child Of his promised
to be somewhat of a genius; then he
passed ont of the world, leaving her as
the mothers chief consolation in her
, widcwhood.
The Fosters lived in the north of
| England, and were apt to speak as if it
were the only part of the British Isles
where life would be agreeable. Even
Stephanie early learned to feel a fine
contempt for the milder climate of the
southern counties, and when, as she
grew older and more delicate, some one
ventured to prescribe visit to the Isle
of Wight or Devonshire, she besought
Mrs. Foster with tears not to take her
away from home.
In the future, the child talked of the
great musical pleasure which she was
to enjoy in one of London's brief,
bright. seasons; but while she was call
ed little Stephanie,'' she was content
ed with her birthplace and its i'm
mediate surroundings.
The house was rambling and irregu-
lar. with the steep gables and mullioned
windows of the Elizabethan era. The
gardens lay at the southern slope,
where the full power of the sunshine
might draw out the perfume OF the
roses and carnations, jasmine and
other flowers Mrs. Foster took de-
light in her garden; it possessed pond
on which water-lilics f1ourished, and it
had its ancient sun dial inscribed with
a Latin motto.
The hall and dining room Of the Pri-
ory were dark and oak-paneled. and
hung with family portraits. The draw
ing room was more modern-all blue
and gold: the prettiest part was the
smaller apartment opening into it,
where Stephanie and her mother spent
the chief part of their days. Here were
easy chairs a couch. davenport
stands of books. precious bits of old
china and Venetian glass: and here,
chief treasure of all in the girls estima
/ tion-was the open piano. and the piles
Of music-bound and unbound.
This dreamy. imaginative maid had
passed her fifteenth birthday. and the
ibeautiful face was beginning to tell the