The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1903-12-15
STORY OF 4 ROSARY

They had all grown very fond OF their
sewing class Aside from its being the
most exclusive thing in town, il afforded
a splendid opportunity for condolences of
all criptions-confidences l say, for /
scorn the word gossip. Eight young
and charming matrons Indeed. five of
them were brides formed this sewing
class, and though they drank much tea
and ate more candy they had done a
great deal of real good among the poor
of the village. and their club was locked
upon with no little respect.
1t had become custom 1T each meet
ing for one member to relate a story
while they sat in their little, circle and
sewed and whispered in turn. On this
afternoon it mad fallen to Patr.cas lot
to entertain her friends. She hesitated
a little and sighed great deal. when
at last she looked up and said:
Girls. 1 don't believe you will like my
story. you have told such jolly ones, and
We have always felt so much happier for
them. but this one-well, ii is love story
and it is sad, and what is a great deal
nore-it's true
'Patrica," cried her dearest friend. who.
by the way, always sat at Patricia side
ct had become kind OF second nature
to her now, "Patrica, oh, synonyme Of
mirth. can it be that you have some hor-
rid story of blighted love hidden away in
the depths of that heart? Out with 1t,
pray, but have mercy on our tears
Patricia laughed softly as she answered:
.Oh, it's not my love story, as you
well know Mine has been told. Eliza
hafh = &c ha,, nj
that will live forever. He
Yes, dear, we know he is perfect My
husband is, too, but do go on with the
Story" interrupted Elizabeth, sooth- nsly.
Patricia thought a while and then be-
gan:
1T was when l was a very little girl
about nine years old and our home was
{. a great, rambling house all covered with
climbing roses ard honeysuckle My
grandmother lived with US l can see her
row walking in the garden, sometimes
alone, but more often with me, and L
would look up into her sweet face, so
full of a lost beauty, and tell myself it
would not be so hard to grow old if one
might look like grandmother. / loved her
next to my mother, and / can remember
how we would walk hand in hand
through the rose garden down to a little
rustic bench hidden far under the branch
es of great oak. Here she would tell
me the most wonderful stories. But
there was one liked best of ALL called
1t The Story of the Rosary -and she
never grew tired of telling it to me. 1 re-
member it SO well l can even hear her
voice as she would say:
. 1t was many, many years ago,
little Patricia, and / have told it-how
often?'
- But l want it again, grandmamma;
indeed l do.-on again, dear grandmam-
ma L pleaded as I watched the light
change in ner eyes.
THE OLD LADY'S STORY.
- DO you mark the sky yonoer. child?
How that purple lghe closes over the
gold. There is a spot of red. too. some
where beyond. 1 have seen such u sky
In Italy
e In Italy, grandmamma?'
" In Italy, child
The Italy of our rosary
"'Yes, Jatrica.'
i" Tell me of Italy and the rosary.
Then, holding my hand, sometimes
Away off on the shores of an italian
lake lies town, a serene little place.
quite almost to iifelessness. IT cannot
boast Of any Importance in the world,
Patrica-many have never heard its name
and yet il was there two hearts lived.
loved and-died, a young girl was travel
fng abroad with her parents-very rich
parents they were-and they stopped for
.snly over night in this little town, to
frest, / believe. for a night, and stayed
longer 1t was picturesque. They en-
joyed the quainness of il allthe people
seemed so removed from the world! They
liked the mild sensation they created
when they walked out-yes, It was very
nice, And it so happened that they met
a few of those quaint people and found
them amusing. One there was among
'henl-a boy. with great eyes like moon
1T pools-a strange boy, but he would
come and pay 40 them on an old. Old,
violin, that poured forth wondrous music
from his soul-for he knew not the
meaning OF notes-and they listened en-
chanted. but with no understanding. until
one evening. when they sky was as it is
tonight. they watched the bow culver in
the slender fingers. followed the dark
eyes and saw the paleness of the si Is
check He did ont come so often after
that The old welcome was gone.
q IT WAS the night before they were
leaving, while he stood watching the light
in her window. that he saw the door open
and the one he sought pass quickly into
the night Then there came a faint sob
that sounded from the DEPTHS of a lost
hope He was moving slowly toward
her-again the sob-and he stood at her
side.
e Il knew YOU would come she whis-
pered. without looking mp.
g ''Miabella Miabella"' he said. as
he bent over her. Shall we go TO the
priest?'
. Yes" answered the girl, so family
that he stopped low to hear. Then TAX
ing her hand in his they walked along
IN the night without rear, hearing only
fheir own heart-beats knowing raught
save that soul had spoken and was
answered. Thus they walked, silently,
looking iHto eacn others eyes. An hour
later he was clasping her 10 his heart.
=" Come back to IRE. thou all Of me
and she standing there with wet. closed
eyes, swore she would. Once more they
gazed along. with tender eyes. ard Their
lips. paler than their faces, met in
last kiss.
4" Are you weeping, grandmamma? ]
would whisper
$ Aye. child. always do. And then,
some months later, a package came to
this far-away girl. and with il a letter.
II read in part: