Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1896-03-13

Alter that he did not see her for o
long while, though he often heard her
singing the old song when he came
back from the theatre. Yet, when he
was practicing, up in his room, when
the children were with him, when he
was blowing his horn in the theatre
at all times he thought of Marie, and
the thought of her brought back the
old feelings he had once had, till he
brought out his opera again, and
dreamed once more of being success
| full.
One day, when he held sleeping
child in his arms and looked down
upon its flushed face, he thought,
"Marie is young, and should have some
one to protect her. I am old-why,
I am old enough to be her grand
father. Her grandfather How
strange.
''My own granddaughter may be as
old as she! never thought of that
before" He leaned over the sleeping
child, and presently something sparkled
on it's round cheek. May be it was a
tear that fell from the little old mans
eye.
Just then, Marie, making flowers
down in her room, lifted up her voice
and sang the old song of Provence.
After that the little old man was
braver in his clothes, and some times
he even had flower in his coat.
'I must look we'll" he said. "Marie
shall teach me how my granddaughter
would like me to look. My grand
daughter! All. soon shall go to her.
l have saved good DEAL"
But he did not see Marie for good
while, and only her song told him she
was near. 1t bade him be hopeful of
yet meeting the granddaughter who
should love him as he already loved
her. Then one night he came home
and the song was silent. Startled, he
hurried up the stairs. In the doorway
of Marie's room stood q young man.
Marie stood there, too, and seeing NJ.
Clerville, she began to sing the we'll
known song. But the little old man
passed on to his garret.
"Oh, he thought, ''my granddaugh-
ther may not love me when she knows
me there may be someone else. p"
The next day the room was locked /;
the children knocked on the door and
called, but he did not heed them. At
night, when h3 went home, Marie was
singing the song, but he fastened to
his room and closed the door. Three
weeks went on, and NJ. Clerville often
saw the young man talking with Marie,
ard he thought that it might be thus
with his granddaughter, and then she
would never love him.
At the end of the three weeks Marie
spoke to him as he came home from
rehearsal.
'The good people in the house re-
member that tomorrow is your birth
day, monsieur" she said. II was
telling Raymond here that you kissed
me on my birthday"
The young man at her side nodded.
81 kissed you as though you were
my granddaughter" said the little old
man, 'as though were your rand
father"
"My grandfather !" and she frowned.
"My grandfather was useless, fool
ish creature, not right in his mind,
with the insane idea that he could
write an opera. l should despise him
if knew him."
II all flashed upon the little old man
her old song, her familiar look.
Here is the grandchild he had been
saving for for years; the grandchild
whom hs had longed for for years,
and whom he had loved and whose
love he had been sure of. And she
called him useless, foolish, not right
in his mind, and vowed that she
should despise him if she knew him |!
elbow old and feeble he is," said
the young man, Raymond, Watching
NJ. Clerville go up the stairs.
On the morrow Marie and Raymond
went up to the garret. Marie had a
parcel in her hand. The old mans
room was full of smoke-h had burned
his opera.
Marie handed him the parcel. With
trembling fingers he opened it. There
was little wreath of forget.me-nots.
II made it for your birthday" said
Marie. lit is my last work. For to-
morrow I shall be Raymond's wife,
caring for no one else."
Caring for no one else !" repeated
the old man. Now suppose your
grandfather should be living
81 should despise him." interrupted
Marie. ''He was useless in the world"
NJ. Clerville took paper from his
breast and gave it to her.
'The savings of many years." he
said cit is your wedding gift"
He put the two happy young people
oul and closed the door. He heard
Marie singing the old song as she went
away. He held the wreath of forget
me-nots in his hand, and he looked at
the crate where smouldered the ashes
of his opera. He listened to Marie's
gong growing fainter and fainter; he
did not know that the children had
opened the door and stood looking in
ct him.
In vain Marie waited to sing 20. I'm
that night; his step did not sound on
the stairs. She grew uneasy. At lass
she had Raymond go with her up to
the garret. She carried candle, and
that was the only light in the room
when they reached it. And there on
hin bod Jay the little old msu, rhe