The Worcester spy. [volume] (Worcester, Mass.) 1898-1904, 1901-12-15

was soft as any girls, with seldom
ever a feck of color in it, Children
Stunned me; they did not like me, but
in this they only reflected the feelings
of their elders. l spent most of my
time out of doors when not engaged
in study or household tasks and
learned many of Natures own lovely
stories. Though L was not up to
pranks like other lads of my age,
people said 1 was daft and looked at
me compassionately. They tolerated
me if l came to them, but 1 was never
made welcome.
My father had taught me few sim
pie tunes to play on his fiddle" as he
called it, and he gave 1t to me when he
went away. | liked best to take it to
the woods with me and there make it
play and sing and speak to me. Sing
of the wind, and the sun, and the wa
ter: sing of the birds, and the trees,
and the rocks; Of the rain pattering
on the dusty leaves and on the dry
parched earth. The village people
would listen, shake their heads mourn
fully, and pass me by as quickly as
might be.
One day a stranger came to our
town, a man unlike all others we had
known He was tall and had dark hair
that waved over his forehead and
alOuLu Ills NIltChoy hd4lASOllAG NAGcll
cut features and steady, hard, grey
eyes With him was a young and
beautiful girl he called his daughter;
her eyes were a soft deep blue. and
her skin was a delicate pink and white.
They were to stay with us a week or
two, and after they had been in town
/ a few days he heard of me, and sent
me a message begging me to come play
to him. I came willingly enough for
h. Of nj
that was his daughters name-as I had
several glimpses of her which made
me eager to see her closer. He asked
me to play for him, for" said he, the
people here tell me you WOO the witch
es with your music"
Berenice was with us. My bow re-
fused to speak Of the brooks, the fields
the nodding daisies; it responded to
my heart and sang to the girl song
of praise-a song which 1 have heard
little birds chirp to one another, song
whose burden was love. II told of
the fairness of her face, the clear
depths of her eyes, the rosewhite of
her skin, the pearly flash Of her white
teeth cleaning between her red lips.
When l had ended and put down
my bow, Mr.. Fiola sat staring at me
in silence for a few moments. who
taught you to play?" he finally ques-
toned, arousing himself with an eff
fort, and letting his glance rest com
mandingly on my face.
Il learned it in the woods" 1 an
swered. The birds taught me, but I
learned that here; it was in her eyes,
and I pointed to Berenice.
He rose abruptly and paced up and
down the room, cycling me furtively.
Suddenly he stopped for a moment be
fore Berenice, and spoke to her rap
idly in tongue Of which I knew moth
ing
She folded her work. and rose to
leave the room. I thought that she
was going without a word to me, but
at the doorway she paused and cast a
bright smile back at me, saying. Il
/ hope that 1 shall see you again" and
then she was gone I felt cheerless as
the door closed. 1t seemed as though
the sunshine had left the room; every
thing was so dark and cloudy.
Play said voice in my ear Mr.
Fiola had spoken again. Once more l
took up my violin. but at first it said
nothing 10 me. Then it called for