The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1902-03-26
THE wooINe OF CELESTE.

iDscrutable destiny to support her wild
owed mother and herself by the precari-
Gus drudgery of drawing lessons. Her
unreasonable advent TO the little sum
ner resort was prompted by the idea
that she might establish her studio and
her fame before, the rush OF "resorters
commenced, and so gain for herself and
her mother a sojourn by the lake that
would be quite impossible under other
conditions
When they came into their box-Iike cot
tage late in March they contrivsd 10 con
vince one another that il was quite 70
mantle" The surf Numbered on the
tawny sands only q few hundred yards
from their back door and the west wind
erooned in their stuffy little attick Ike
| the spirit voices of the waters. After
putting a notice Of her coming in the
local paper, hanging out her card and dis
posing her piano, drawing boards and pic
lures about the tiny cottage. Miss Celeste
found leisure for some novel reading and
opportunity 70 keep warm by lying abed
while mamma petted her and fused
about the kitchen.
The first warm day found her in this
mood sitting on the divan by the window
or her bOudoir and gazing across the
Tater-scape that soon must become the
playground of 4 swarm OF fashionables.
| Then she noticed that the adjacent cot
tege was nearer than it had seemed. She
was deprecating this drawback TO her
mother when she saw a tall athletic,
handsome young fellow striding graceful
IL across the sand TO the Objectionable
house. She drew the curtain across her
window. but watched him with brighten
ing eyes as he stepped upon the creazing
porch. let himself in and vanished like
the impalpable vision of her romantic
dreams. Was he. could he be the Prince
Charming come so soon and yet not too
soon to lead her from the drawsy cob
webbed castle of her long maidenly sleep?
Her heart was pit-patting like the little
trip-hammers of pianola when suddenly
from the open window of the cottage
his cottage-there stole q strain OF music
so deep, SO rich. so unutterably plaintive
that the tears sprang into her big blue
Mamma, listen! He is playing!" (Ac-
cent on the he)
Who is hep" rasped mamma, securing
skillet, but coming to the window
why, the young gentleman who lives
next door" feigned Celeste; haven't you
seen him?'
Then they listened breathlessly to the
melody now swelling with noble defiance.
now rollicking with gay abandonment and
again shrinking sadly into the tunefuI
shadows of complaint. 1t was a cello
played by a master hand, vocal with the
passions OF the adept, responsive TO every
hope and fantasy of an inspiring and per-
haps a wounded heart. When the music
ceased, Celeste sighed, wondering who he
might be so to touch her heart with
fieeting glimpse of his Observation-Disclosures
ing person, so to move her heart with the
random expression OF some perhaps wan
ton sentiments.
Then, as If by chance, she wandered to
her own piano, and with easy but alb
stracted manner PLAYED a hesitating little
love song from "Rigoletto." But when
she had finished and her unconscious
challenge was answered by a nournful.
pleading echo from the same opera, Ce-
leste gasped prettily and ran 10 the win
dow, pulling it shut with a very dramatic
little shrug of anger. Then she ran into
the attic fixed herself at the eye-like
oriel window and watched the celist's
cottage like bird which mas been terri
fed and fascinated by a proving and
majestic hawk. in an hour he came out.
and-how her heart beat!-turned his
dark. soulful eyes for a full minute to-
ward her window. He could not see her,
and so ne walked away, but she watched
him, with her heart in her eyes. till he
disappeared into the garden Of the Hotel
Florence.
That evening she noticed an old man.
bearded, shabby and bent. pOttering
about the back door Of the 'cellist's. cot
tage, and interested in everything and
every one with whom her hero came IN
contact, she wondered who this privileged
old dependent might be.
HE can't be a relative" she thought;
hes vulgar Unlocking old rascal.
Perhaps an old servant Of the family, en-
dured by his young master for the sake
o. old times"
And she was dreaming another day
dream when he, handsomer than ever.
came across the stretch OF sand, and. with
just a glance toward her, went into the
cottage. She heard his melodious voice
call "BOggs; Boggs!" and watched the
Gle servant scurry into the back door
Then, after an interval the cello spoke
once more, sweeter. holder. more winsome
than ever. And from her piano she an
swered it in kind, her courage rising as
the response came floating promptly back
through the open window. her heart afre
as she interpreted the imprisoned mean
ing of the old ballads Of love and war.
After that she tried in her demure.
maidenly way to meet him in the village
streets, but though she saw him often
and once almost came face to face with
him at a corner near the postoffice he
seemed TO evade her with an ingenious
confusion that enhanced his exalted char
acter in her partial eyes. No doubt he
could not trust himself to look freely at
her patrician beauty; he must have rec
ognized the innate nobility of her poise
and bearing: aristocrat that he was he
would not presume upon the opportunities
% a lonely summer resort to gain her ac-
quaintanCe unconventionally. At her
wits end for some plausible subterfuge,
poor Celeste was at last obliged 10 con
fde, tentatively and cautiously Of course.
in her mother I'll borrow something
from Boggs" cried the old lady. "and
then III invite them TO tea"'
1T was a happy thought. and bore quick
fruit. for that afternoon the widow ran
home with a new light in her eyes and
said: Its done, Celeste. I didn't borrow
a cup OF sugar; they don't cook or eat
in the cottage, but live. that is eat ar
the Hotel Florence Oh. they must BE-
rich The old gentleman, Boggs. is his
uncle. The nephew's name IS Belford.
Porter Bedford. and they're coming over
this evening"
They came. the old man logged out IN
a rusty suit Of black and the nephew
dinident but handsome. II she had not
been already IN love poor Celeste might
have wondered at Belford's awkwardness. I
the limitations Of his commonplace con-
versa1ion and the evident gaucheries Of
Uncle Boggs. But she could see no
deeper than his splendid beauty. hear
nothing but the rich BARITONE OF his low
voice, think OF nothing but the wondrous
music OF his harmed cello. And 50 al
last. when they had left the table and the
talk was languishing. Celeste turned 70
her idol and coyly whispered
May we not hear the cello, Mr. Be-
ford2
"Certai1ly he answered, blushing
''Bogss. set the cello
Bogsa not only brought the Instrument +
hut. without 50 much as an invitation
sat down 20 play g. Celeste could scarce