The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1898-08-17

mea Why, it's the chance of NV
lifetime! Will, aren't you going to
grip my hand7"
he was SO overcome that he hard
| ~ noticed I sat like stone. He
went on whispering rapturously to
/ himself:
Tomorrow nightl I must write
and tell her this. Why, the solo-I
can play it. She must lie there /!
Will, listen-you must hear it! It
goes like this!''
He caught up his violin. see
him now as he stood that night,
near that downward sweep of his
bow across the strings, full Of con-
scious triumph-that one quivering
chord, no more. was on my feet.
terrible passion passing through
me. Every word of mis- had been
stab. Each seemed to carry Lottie
farther and farther from me. I
struck out at him-.at Chris. the
man who had made me love him
like q brother-and the savage blow
caught the rim of his beloved in
strument and sent it spinning across
the room. Near the door it fell
with q sickening crash and Law
there-wrecked!
Yes. Next minute, when realiz.
ed and would have given years of
my life to spare Chris that blow. I
orept across and picked up the vio-
lin. The finger board had snapped
in two, and the body of it was stove
in like an eggshell.
ooh, Christ I whimpered. one
shaking hand put out. But he did
not stir. His body was stiff. Only his
face worked convulsively. "Take
mine-take everything I've got!" I
said in an agony of apprehension
then.
One dry sob came. then a shiver.
then he groped his way past me like
a blind man. Listening as for my
life, I heard him mount slowly up
to our bedroom and lock the door
on the inside. Then one stifled
moan and no more.
All that night I sat in a fever of
shame and suspense, and the door
above had not opened. Several
times I had crept up and implored
him to let me in, but not sound
had come. What was he doingi
Save myself, no one on earth knew
how he had priced that old violin
what it's loss meant for him. What
would happen2 When morning
came, I could do nothing but ask
our landlady not to disturb him and
wait on. Afternoon came, and still
the same silence overhead. And
then, just about 6 o'clock, went
hot at the recollection of that con-
cert at the Grand hall. The chance
of his lifetime he had called it. If
he failed-no, he should not fall
The widest Of ideas had flashed
across me. Chris and I were not so
unlike in appearance, and, heaven
helping me. I might
1 went up and knocked once again.
No answer. Clearly if it was to be
done there was no time to hesitate.
Seven O'Clock, no Chris. Half past
2. I had dressed carefully, chosen
an effective solo that I knew by
heart, taken one of Chris cards and
stood waiting on the last chance. A
quarter to 8. and that door remained
locked. Five minutes later 1 had
called cab and was Oh my way to
the Grand hall.
! recollect asking for the manager
and handing him that card, but the
rest seemed aftervard like dream.
Scores Of times had played IN pub
lie, but always with q nervousness
that had marred my performance.
It was gone now. remember that
when, about half past 8, faced that
great, critical audience as Chris Ca.
rev was as cool and confident as !
though my success had been assured |
for years. To play as ! had never |
played before-to carry home news !;
of triumph to Christ
And, with the vision of him sit
ting at home there always before |
me, I played that night-well, as |
Chris himself would have done. !
The moment the prelude had ended .
I was sure of myself. Never had !
my fingers seemed so supple. Never
had my bow responded 80 lovingly
to the emotions that possessed me.
I did not need to wait for the buzz
of applause to know that "Chris !
Carew' had justified his engage
ment. Remembered afterward that
the manager had shaken bands with
me and said something about good !
aotice in the morning papers, but
the first thing I recollected clearly
was trying the handle Of the door
at home and whispering eagerly,
Chris, old mani Chrisl'
The handae yielded-the lock was
broken. With an intense awe and
Nj