Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1903-03-27

ilSteuius NitAA pcuGu edTS
sound above the lively chatter Of
Mere Ricordo. for the cry Of the post
man who was to bring him the answer
from the girl he loved.
1t was sound that came but seldom
in that narrow way. The simple folk,
| whose horizon was bounded by those
| sunbaked walls, held little commerce
with the outside world, whose mes
sages of love, or life, or death were
flashed across wide seas OF carried in
| the bosoms Of snorting trains.
| She had written him once-a gay.
careless letter-to tell him how happy
she was, what brave sights she saw!
The signora was kind to her, she her.
self was becoming q signora-she wore
hat!
Now her answer tarried. He hardly
dared to think how many suns had
| risen, burned and died, and given way
to the paler beauties of the moon, since
he had sent her the good news, had told
her of the home that awaited her, and
reminded her of her promise.
With a stified sigh he turned back
into the shop. and bent to his work
again.
"She is still but child" he told him
self, land 1 am dull fellow. Perhaps
she has forgotten"
He checked the thought as unworthy,
| and in the days that followed the whirr
of his wheel was the busiest in the
shop, till the people wondered and
x1yl,i that it
was strange the master should work
at the lathe early and late. Had Nello,
then, the making Of miser in him?
Lizette Ricordo looked at him with
tender, blue Venetian eyes.
They reminded him of another pair
that had laughed into his own in the
moonlight on the canal, but they awoke
no tender light in his own. He waited
and trusted. Rosa must write soon.
Every morning he rose eXpectant,
every night he looked for the morrow
with unquenched hope.
Pietro stood in the doorway, rolling
a cigarette in his strong brown fingers.
His merry heart was saddened, for he
alone of all the workers guessed the
secret that hung heavy on Nello's
heart, the cloud that cast its shadow on
his gentle face.
1.-THE American signora has turned
the child's head; she will not return,"
he sighed.
And as he sighed the cry Of LA
postaw sounded hoarse and long
drawn-out above the babel Of voices.
The letter had come; he handed it to
Nello. and left him.
Nello turned into the darkness of the
shop. The fiimsy pink envelope bore
number of postmarks. He tore 1t
apart and 1t fell unheeded to the
floor.
No one heard the cry that was wrung
from his heart. They had left him
alone with sorrow! She wrote lightly.
He had thought too much of moonlit
night on the canal. There were maid
ems in plenty in the Gale to solace
him. AS for her, she was in no haste
to return to dull Venice.
The chatter of Mere Ricordo as she
bartered her fruits to the brown-eyed
urchins fioated in and cut his heart.
Rosa and he had played out there
together, and one day he had bought
her promise to be his little wife with
a handful of cherries. he thought Bit
terly, as later he had bought IL with
a string of brightly colored beads.
He bent his head on his arms across
the rough table, and two large tears
fell down and mingled with the shav-
ings and the sawdust.
How suddenly his house Of cards had
fallen!
He would forget-he must forget
but the dry sob thatracked him showed
that the wound would be i'll to heal.
1t drowned the sound of light, soft
step. He did not see the girl who en-
tered and picked up the envelope, its
gayness marred with the delaying
| postmarks. The first he knew Of her
presence was the pressure of n soft,
warm arm, whisper that was n
caress.
"'Tis I, thy naughty Rosa. Canst
forgive me, Nello? l did not know
my heart"
And Nello's joy was crowned.-New
York News.