Barre evening telegram. (Barre, Vt.) 1898-19??, 1900-06-16

when she asked me If wore that sorl
of tight trousers that looked as If they
growed on"
She laughed heartily second.
Sand then I went to the old orchard,
Paul. 1t was just such night as that
onc-the night you told me not to for
get. I'm afraid the forgetfulness is
yours, after all, Paul Foolish, I'M
worthy of answering though they may
have been, those letters came right
from my heart. Pshaw! That laugh
ter made my eyes dim for moment.
But you tired of them after year.
I'm afraid the professor was disap
pointed in me for awhile But l had
my art, and art leaves no room for
love. That's the lesson you told me
not to learn. Yet for seven long years.
day after day, it has been part of my
daily food. Yet IS years is almost
thrice seven, Paul, and habit is strong.
l wonder where you are"
In breathlcss darkencd silence the
vast audience waited for the opening
aria, to be sung by this unknown sing.
err, whose fame, rumOr had whispered,
would become worldwide. Then into
the living silence came voice SO
daintily sweet and soft it seemed born
of the air. Slowly it rose higher and
stronger, like a bird that gathers
strength in its upward fight, till, when
1t seemed almost too heavenly sweet for
an earthly voice, into the sight OF the
breathlcss audience came the singer.
A moment Of absolute, dumb silence,
then the very roof sent back its echo
to swell the triumphant ovation. But
as the singer bowed right and left her
eyes fell and fingered on the tear stain
ed, happy face of the woman in the
front seat.
Only man in the proscenum box
sat motionless in all the excitement.
So this was Bertha this beautiful wo-
man who moved these thousands at
her pleasure. This was the Bertha
who had stood in the old church, the
sunlight powdering the dusky hair
with gold as it streamed in the chan
eel window while she sang "Come
Unto Me-" Her voice was glorious
now. But coming down through the
silence of eight years the voice Of his
memory sounded infinitely sweeter.
With the dream of sunlight shining
like opals through the trees, sparkling
like jewels in the dusky hair, with the
pure scent Of Gods own air and the
unutterable peace Of nature, the glare
of light, the glimmer of real opals and
jewels, the hot perfumed air, the cease
less rustic of silks, seemed sickening
substitute.
They were all here to see her. All
had an equal right to look at and listen
to her-her who by rights should be
his alone. Well, she had learned her
lesson well. Rising like n hooking
whisper above the din Of sound he
could hear the voice, 81 shall never for
get, Paul"
At the end of the third act, an act of
triumph for the little unknown country
girl, note was handed her. She tore
it nervously open. You looked long
at me more than once tonight. knew
then memory was whispering to you.
Was it faithful, wonder? Did it tell
you all? Did it tell you where and
when we last met? Did it repeat the
words that We're spoken then" There
was no signature.
1t seemed ages to Paul before the
boy returned with an answer. He
opened it slowly, yet with quick fin
gers. Memory has been whispering
eight long years, Paul. Can then for
get? All, tits you who forgot; all my
foolish little letters unanswered. You
We're cruel, Paul. Didn't you hear me
tell you my heartache in that last
song? l was singing to you-not my
fierce italian lover. I'm alone after
the opera in my dressing ROOM" Like
flash he saw all; heard the profess
or's voice saying, you can't love,
child; art has no room for love-" And
the seven long years Of silence grew
shorter.
Paul knocked at the door the stage
hand pointed out to him. He had evil
IDENTIFY been expected
"Who" said a voice inside, answer
ing his knock. "I-Paul!' And the door
slowly opened.-Chicago News.