The Guthrie daily leader. [volume] (Guthrie, Okla.) 1893-1996, 1902-05-02

! TIE woolEG OF CELESTE. I
S$A4%
BY JOHN II. RAFTERY.

81 JOliN II. lNAf Ikit1.
Miss Celeste came TO Cold Harbor in
the early spring to work ont a little
scheme" which seemed N harmony
b. th her business necessities and
l. ,rocratio Instincts or she
wal ol gentle blood and much nuture.
tho n driven by an inscrutable des-
tiny to support her widowed mother
and herself by the precariouA drudgery
Of drawing lessons. Her unreasonable
advent to the little summer resort was
prompted by the idea that she might
establish her studio and her fame be-
fore the rush of "resorters" com
menced. and so gain for herself and
her mocer a sojourn by the lake that
would be quite impossible under other
conditions.
When they came into their box-liku
cottage late in March they contrived
to convince one another that it was
quite romantic" The surf thundered
on the tawny sands only few hun
dred yards from their back door and
the west wind crooned in their stufty
little attic like the spirit voices Of the
waters. Alter pu=dag notice of her
coming in the local paper, hanging out
her card and disposing her piano,
drawing boards and pictures sbcIt the
tiny cottage. Miss Celeste found leisure
for some novel reading and opportun-
ity to keep warm by lying abed while
mamma petted her and fused abou.
the kitchen.
The first warm Gay found her in this
mood sitting on the divan by the win
dow of her boudOir and gazing across
the water-scape that soon must be
come the playground Of a swarm Of
fashionables. Then she noticed that
the adjacent cottage was nearer than
ii had seemed. She was deprecating
this drawback to her mother when she
saw tall, athletic, handsome young
fellow striding gracefully across the
sand to the Objectionable house. She
drew the curtain across her window,
bat watched him with Frightening
eyes as he stepped uPop the creaking
porch, let himself ia and vanished like
the impalpable vision of her romantic
dreams Was he, could he be the
Prince Charming come so soon and no:
yet too soon to lead her from the
drowsy cobwebbed castle of her loi
maidenly sleep? Her heart was pit
patting like the little t'lp-hammers OF
a pinola when s. idenly from the open
window of the cottage-his cottage
there stole a strain of music so deep,
so rich. SO unutterably plaintive that
the tears sprang into her big blue eyes
as she cried:
Mamma, listenl" He is playing
accent on the he)
who is ne?" rasped mamma, scour-
ing skillet, but coming to the win
dow
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 rolliclsing with gay
abandonment and again shrinking
sadly into the tuneful shadows Of COM
plant. II was cello played by q
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, wonder
ing who he might be so to touch her
heart with a fleeting glimpse OF his
distingulshed-look person, so TO
move her heart with the random ex-
preston Of some perhaps wanton senti.
ments.
Then, as II by chance, she wandered
to her own piano, and with easy but
abstracted manner played hesitating
little love song from "Rigoletto." But
when she had finished and her uncon-
scious challenge was answered by
mournful, pleading echo from the
same opera. Celeste gaspod prettily
and ran to the window, pulling II shut
with very dramatic little shrug %
anger Then she ran into the attic.
fixed herself at the eye-lke oriel win
dow and watched the cellists cottase
like a bird which had beel terrified
and fascinated by a prowlng and ma
iestic hawk In an hour nc came out
and-how her heart beat turned his