Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1904-06-24
And you must not think of 1t again,

Or"
She paused and the man looked at
her inquiringly. COR what, Mees Mac
Alleester"
"Or shall not be able to come and
see you-or-or help you any more"
But" said Carlo, weakly, Il do
not understand. 1t is but the truth.
You have saved my life, mia cara
mia, | must thank you'll must pour
out my gratitude to you-from my
SOUL"
He stood, exhausted for a moment,
and then went on excitedly: Il
have been thinking of you, longing to
see you-take your little hand-so-
and kiss it, and let fall my tears
as of blood, on it. You have saved
my life-you have done more-you
have inspired mel have been dream
ing a picture of you, as l lay watch
ing the fire, vision of goodness, SO
high, so pure, so true, and the melody
came. | heard somewhere-away, up
above me, in Gods air, host chanting
your praises the music they sang
was the melody my soul has sought
so long. | put it in my work. That
work at last will be complete. It will
triumph, for none can resist such mu-
sic as this"
He rose abruptly, with sudden
strength. Then he staggered across
the room to where violin lay in it's
case. Mary MacAllister uttered a cry,
and laid restraining hand on his
arm.
The violinist took up his instrument
and crept back to his chair.
He seated himself and began to
play. The girl, seeing remonstrance
useless, quietly dropped into a seat
and listened For few moments she
heard only music she had heard him
play before, in days when he was well.
Then suddenly her lips parted, and
she sat breathless. From the instru-
ment poured a melody almost unearth-
ly. The man played as if inspired.
It was as if voices from another world
were speaking. On, on he went
from paean of praise to a frenzy of
passion, from hurricane of hope to
dirge Of despair,
And then on again, higher and
higher, faster and faster, the liquid
melody poured from the VIOLIN with
one great overpowering chord of
grandeur, the music stopped and the
bow fell from his nerveless hand,
while the musician sank back painting,
exhausted, but triumphant, in his
chair
So engrossed had he been with his
beloved music, so enraptured had been
the girl with the marvellous strains
that Carlo Terrini had evoked, that
neither had heard the footsteps that
had mounted the stairs, nor seen the
form that now stood in the doorway.
Gently the girl chided the poor violin.
list for his great exertioD, sweetly she
babe him good night and rest, slowly
she turned from him to the door. For
a moment she gazed, as if looking on
the dead, then with a cry of passion.
ate gladness she flew to the outstresch.
ed arms, crying Dick"
Downstairs in Mrs. Birds front par.
lor Dick Herrick's story was soon told.
After months of Imprisonment at Wat.
ervaal he had recovered his liberty,
but not his rights. The Dutchman
who had sold him the land was now
in possession of it again. and was dis.
putting his title. Too poor to take
the necessary legal action to recover,
he had returned to England as poor
as he left it four years before.
The next morning Mary, dressed for
the city, paid her usual visit to Carlo
Terrini before going. She found him
very III. He confessed that he had
not been to bed He had been work.
ing all through the long night, writing
the music he had composed aad play.
ed TO her into his opera
"But now. now you have finished"
she pleaded. you will sleep-and
rest7"
Eyes, cara mia, I will rest-soon
\ promise you" and as the door
closed behind her, he added with
wan smile. forever"
Two hours after she had gone Carlo
Terrini let himself out of the house
without a sound and made his way to
West End music firm, the head Of
which was a compatriot of his.
After few minutes talk he persuad.
ed him to listen to the opera, which
he played through without a break.
Astonished and delighted, the pub
Usher instantly concluded a bargain
with him, and Carlo Terrini crept
home and fell exhausted on the bed,
| from which he never rose again.
| A few hours before he died he gave
letter, sealed. to Mary MacAllister,
and whispered her to keep it till he
was dead. The day after he was laid
to rest Mary MacAllister, remember
ing the letter. opened it and read the
| last words of her dead friend.
He had given her the opera which
she had inspired, and which had cost
y 10