The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1903-10-21

tto u BlONt tn0 nduus
Hail, victor in the generous strife,
This is the golden hour of life;
The struggle and the task are done,
The guerdon and the chaplet won.
Thine is the fadeless olive crown,
Blazon and badge of bright renown;
For thee the poets Tyre is strung
For thee the song of triumph won.
He wrote on and on, and on! Night
passed into day, and day nearly into
night again before 1t was finished, and
he managed to stagger out and post 1t
himself; then he tainted, and Mrs. Will
cox told him he must leave her house
at the end of the week. She couldn't
abide invalids, besides which she had
chance of letting her rooms for al
most double the money; her first floors
were going, and new people coming in
who wanted an extra room.
Colin was thankful TO go. He felt
like thief who has robbed a blind
man. He was thief, and he had stol-
en- what was far more precious than
gold-he had stolen fame from an old
man, a foreigner, from girl perhaps
as poor as himself-and he hated him
self for 1t. He had done 1t almost in
his delirium. but as health and
strength returned every hour, so did
his moral sense Of right and wrong.
He was thief.
The letter with the good news came
to dreary London attic, one of those
tiny, ill-furnished rooms which shelter
broken hearts and hide blighted hopes
from the mock Of the world.
Colin Stuart had won the prize for
his superb setting of the classic ode
he held the check in his hand for
a250, with the formal offer of the post
he had craved, with more than formal
appreciation Of his work, for the ia
nous Signor Tiorno pronounced it wor-
thy of the highest praise.
Colin threw the letter down in Bit
ter contempt. Stolen honors-a giants
robe" he muttered, only, thank heav-
en-, there is still time to make restitu-
ton. l will take 1t there onight-now,
it may be to them what it was to me-
what 1t would have been to me IL 1t
were honestly mine Perhaps the mel
ody was hers-that beautiful dark eyed
girl used to see passing up and down
to the second floor back-perhaps it
was the old foreigners | saw with her
just before | was taken ill--they will
pity and forgive, the temptation was
so great"
But they also had left Mrs. Wilcox
apartments, he found-they had gone
few days before he himself had done so.
"She-Miss Giacomo-was a gov
erness and had lived here for three
years." explained Mrs. Wilcox. vexed-
ly. "and paid to the day all that time.
Then her uncle came and took her
away-he hadn't any children, and is
quite a rich old man, | believe, an
she's going abroad with him. She was
his sisters child, an there'd been a
quarrel over the marriage, an they'd
lost sight of each other. Anyhow, the
parents are dead now, and the signor
he's adopted Miss Giacoma for his
own; their address, sir? Now, let me
see, they went from here to one of
them big hotels-Cecil, think 1t
was
Colin contrived to cut short the rest
Of her voluble talk, and started off 70
walk to the Hotel Cecil; he was glad
from his heart that the girl had found
friend and the prospect of happiness
if only the good luck had come TO
him, other dreams than money and
fame might have been his; now she
would never know that her pretty face
had chained him to Mrs. Wilcox
house like spell; that the chance
meetings sometimes, the glance from
her sweet eyes had inspired his muse
yes. something else had gone out of
his life with Nina Giacomo, and he
had to confess himself as a thief before
her.
1t was the only restitution he could
make.
81 had set my whole soul on win
ming that prize" stammered the cul-
prit, with downcast eyes. Il thought
Of it by day. and dreamed of it by
nlght-then l was taken Ill, and
wondrous melody made itself known
to me; strange, sweet harmonies ran
through my fever so that waking was
almost pain, for with coming back
TO this dreary world the angel tune
vanished. and | could not catch hold OF
tit seemed still in my soul. but elu-
sive, like a shadow which cannot be
grasped-then-then one night l heard
it played in another room. heard it
hummed and strummed not the har-
mony but the ghost Of the melody, and
my dellrium was not over. | entreat
you to believe 1t was not the true Colin
Stuart, but some remnant of the fever
fiend who did it. | stole the melody
and elaborated it, harmonized 1t, as
had heard It played in my dreams, and
! sent it in as my own; 1t won the
| priZe-it is here-yours. not mine