The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1900-05-03
The Heart of a Singer.

Come back to Erin, Mavourneen. Ma
vourneen.' Joyously sweet and clear.
nearer and nearer, came the voice. The
professor sat motionless, listening with
bated breath lest he lose q syllable Of
that sweet old song, sung In that sweet
young voice. As the voice ceased ne
looked out. Coming toward the house,
balancing in either hand A foaming pail
of milk, was a Young girl. Even ere the
song was finished a harsh, tired voice
called sharply. Come. Beth. don't yell
so. YoG'n wake baby. and I've been an
hour getting her asleep. Hurry and set
the table. .
The world was two months older. Into
the best parIor shone the afternoon sun
shine, playing gieefully on walls that
seemed 10 shrink from the unaccustomed
glare. In one OF the prin, sfraight-back-
ed chairs at the front windows sat Pro-
lessor Helfen, while opposite at the other
window sat a weary, sad-faced woman,
tearing idly at the huge red wooden tas-
sci, that had never before been treated
so roughly.
MY good woman, think She has a
fortune in her voice. She has voice IN
thousand-a gem. But it is in the
rough; it needs polishing years of It,,
and it must be polished gently. Then
it Will shine-oh, doch!'
Over in the corner a slim, dark-eyed
girl hung hearted on their words.
A silence that seemed to the girl full
of strange bright sounds chasing one an
other noiselessly until they met IN one
clash. Yes, yes; she can go. But bring
her back, bring her back. I've seven
but I can't spare her forever" Then,
somehow Beth found herself in her moth
er's arms. who for once in her life Of
habitual self-control had given way. And
so the ultimatum went forth. Beth was
to go.
Out in the garden twilight was falling;
the beautiful tender sky colors were slow
ly fading into the dusk of night; the
very air, full of the scent Of the hay
was a caress. The very peace of it SEEM
ed a mockery to Paul as he stood before
her
You say you'll remember, Beth. but
you won't-you won't; I know it as if
years had already passed.
Listen, Paul. Her voice, soft and
soothing, had caught his earnestneSs.
Il shall never forget; you know my ma
ture too well to believe your own words.
This is the hardest part Of 1t, Paul-to
leave you. But the years will soon pass,
Paul. We are both young. and no les
son he may try to teach me can blot
out the teaching of eighteen years Of
life, and with such teacher. You be-
lieve me, Paul?"
The two weeks of the opera had be-
gun. In breathless darkened silence the
vast audience waited for the opening
aria, to be sung by this unknown sin
ger, whose fame, rumor had whispered,
would become world wide
At the end of the third act, an act of
triumph for the little unknown coun-
try girl, note was handed her. She
tore 1t nervously open. You looked long
at me more than once tonight I knew
then memory was whispering to you.
Was it waithful, 1 wonder? Did it tell
you all? Did it tell you where and when
we last met? Did it repeat the words
that were spoken thep?" There was no
signature.
It seemed ages to Paul before the boy
returned with an answer. He opened it
slowly, yet with quick fingers. Memory
has been whispering eight long years
Paul. Can I then forget? All, tits you
who forgot: all my foolish. little, letters
unanswered You were cruel, Paul
Didn't you hear me tell you my heart
ache in that last song? I 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 pro-
lessons voice saying: You can't love,
child; are 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 voice inside answering
his knock. "I-Paulr' and the door slowly
opened.