The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1898-06-04
The Story of Maud.

All the events of her life had served to
| make her the loneliest little creature in
| all this great Universe. The great black
| eyes that had lost all their brightness
! when, as a child she lay sobbing on the
| floor beside the couch on which they had
| laid her dead mother, had regained scarce
| ~ haf their former sparkle when her
| second great grief came upon her. And
| now for years she had wandered up and
| down the rooms of the old mansion and
| IN the shadow Of the surrounding park,
always dreaming, until she herself seemed
put a misty dream or reverie. God has
made many different kinds of people to
act In Life's drama, but perhaps the one
most to be pitied is the dreamer For
there awaits his awakening,
Il know 1 dream, full soon will come the
morrow,
With its dull vanors and az 1ao5or
sky"
But Maud did not even know that she
dreamed. Her reveries had become cali
tles TO her. There was one thing in her
lie but for which she could scarcely have
llVed-music. 1t filled her heart and soul.
shone ON her face and in her eve, and her
happlest moments were those spent at the
IoVed piano. There was that too. about
her music that was as strange as the little
girl herself. To be like her, her music
would have been tender, soft and beauti-
ful, yet sad and lonely. But she chose
rather, and rendered best, the noble the
inspiring; that which sends US on. better
and happier for having heard it, Her de-
Vouon &c music was what made Maud's
awakening so hard to bear
she had been playing nearly the whole
afternoon, and when the moon arose that
night, and hid her face with maiden mod
esty behind cloudy veil. Maud lay in the
hammock, enjoying the evening, as much
as II was her nature TO enjoy ANYTHING
Ihere Is an indefnable charm in the
moonlight, sweet serenity that is like
nothing else in the world: It is our calm,
true friend 70 whom we come after the
neat and turmoil of the day. for rest and
peace. Thus it was to Maud as she
drifted into a quiet slumber.
Ihere was scarcely any confusion about
What followed. She knew she had fallen
and was carried to her room, and that her
wrists were hurting her. There was still
less chance for misunderstanding the doc
tors statement. She must never plav
again. Then there was a great struggle
In the young girls soul. Bitter grow many
people when adverse winds blow over
them, and like shifting sand hills they are
blown about. Maud happily was not of
this character, and after the first dark
ness passed, arose with a strong faith
in the hand that is above all, and through
all and in all.
y.
shTieked and whistled and moaned and
scattered the leaves all over the lawn,
while occasionally a fierce CLEAN lighted
up the gathering darkness with a wierd
horrible glitter. Maud stood gazing at
the silent keys she loved so we'll, and
venturing boldly struck one key, ever so
softly.
only one little melody in this long
time, surely I may. when my wrists don't
hurt to night
The music before her was a song with
out words a storm story; and soon, for
getting the tempest without, forgetting
her weakened wrists, she was playing out
the long pent-up passions of her soul In
the tones that burst from the piano. The
winds caught up the echoes and the
thunders hurried them over the mountains
where they died away among the foot
hills.
In the midst Of the fury while the winds
are blowing the widest. and the thunders
are pealing the loudest, a sharp twinge
of pain strikes her wrists and travels up
ward towards her heart, while a binding
sheet of lightning flashes across the room. |
Her head falls forward. and her arms are
outstretched And there they found her
after the smoke and roaring OF thunder
had died away. And as they lifted her
gently, one small white hand fell, strik- f,
ing low solemn note, that seemed but !
the echo of that life now fied-Mabel |
Grace Munns.