The Whitefish pilot. [volume] (Whitefish, Mont.) 1904-current, 1910-03-17

"OcUeN UcHTS! II ID u LO1a0 tune 10 tCnat.
were alone. she and l. The sheep sup
ported me. and she sold her roses and
dried lavender. 1t was all SO beau
tiful-tilI he came. All. had he loved
her! But plaything. pastime! The
signor never had daughter. What
Is she now? A nameless thing in the
streetsw Giovanni raised his arms
tragically. The boots clattered to the
door Seven years! 1t is long time
for one of my blood to wait"
Enough" cried Hillard. but there
was hardness in his throat at the
sight Of the old mans tears. Where
was the proud and stately man. the
black bearded shepherd in faded blue
linen. In picturesque carriers. with his
reedlike pipe. that be. Hillard, had
give you only my sympathy for your
loss" said Hillard. but l abhor the
spirit of revenge which cannot find
satisfaction in anything save murder"
Giovanni bowed gravely and made
off with his boots. Hillard remained
staring thOughtfully at the many col
ored squares in the rug under his feet.
1t would be lonesome with Giovanni
gone. The old man had evidently
made up his mind. But the woman
with the voice. would she see the no.
tice in the paper? And If she did
would she reply to it? What foun
dalton for romance! Bah! He pre-
pared for bed.
To those who reckon earthly treas
ures as the only thing worth having
John Hillard was fortunate young
man. That he was without kith or kin
was considered by many as an addl-
tional piece of good fortune. Born in
Sorrento. in one Of the charming villas
which sweep down to the very brow
of the cliffs. educated in Rome up to
his fifteenth year. taken ut that age
from the dreamy. drifting land and
thrust into the noisy. bustling life
which was his Inheritance: fatherless
and motherless at twenty. college
youth who was forever mixing his
Italian with his English and being
laughed at. hating tumult and loving
quiet, warm hearted and impu!sive,
yet meeting only habitual reserve from
his compatriots whichever way he
turned. 1t Is not to be wondered at
that he preferred the land of his birth
to that Of his blood.
The old house In which he lived was
not in the fashionable quarter of the
town. but that did not matter Nor
did it vary externally from any Of it's
unpretentious neighbors. A cook. a
butler and valet were his retinue
Giovanni sought his own room at the
end Of the hall. squatted on low
stool and solemnly began the business
of backing bis masters boots. He
was still as lean and tall as a Lom-
hardy poplar. this handsome old Ro-
man. His hair was white: there was
now no black beard on his face. which
was as brown and creased as Spanish
levant and some Of the fullness was
gone from his chest and arms. but for
all that he carried his fifty odd years
lightly. He worked swiftly tonight.
but his mind was far away from his
task.
There was pitiful story. common
place enough-a daughter. a loose liv-
ing officer knife flung from a dark
alley. the sudden fight to the south
Hillard had found him wandering
through the streets of Naples. hiding
from the carabinieri as best he could.
Hillard contrived to smuggle him on
the private yacht Of friend. He
found peasant who was reconsider
ing the advisa bility of digging sewers
and laying railroad ties in the Edo
RADIO of the west. A few pieces Of sill
yer and the passport changed hands
With this Giovanni blandly lied his