The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1914-09-04


place d hIs poor effects 70 satisfy the
landlords denaEc,foF rent
All that was left was some few
sheets Of manuscript music. a bed, .
chair, and scrne cooking utenslis.
II was the end of hope. ambition,
of ali--complete failure having met
the composers efforts.
IFS left hand grast-'d the neck Of
the violin tightly, and his eyes wan
1efe1 about the bare room
Then. a. the SKY 1arkened, the first
breath u sumner cfept IN 1T the win
COW. A warm gou'h breeze, 70 soft
a. 10 be barely felt. but bringing with
4 the nrSt tidings of brighter days to
those who had felt the long winters
cold
Unleedingly the young man lifted
the violin vi to his chin, and his right
hand crossed the bow over the strings
he hegitated a minute; then cast q
look al the sky and With bold sweeD
Of the bow began 10 play
II was a waltz, ibrobhing with pas.
sion. full and harmonious. The sad
notes Of the bass strings in nNn0r
key followed each other to the time
crying sadly Ike lament Of lost
soul far away
Ever changing in melody, the waltz
carried in 1t the first four thrilling
notes They crossed, repeated, re-
treated. and retnrned
The first breath of summer caught
these notes, carried them out Of the
attic window over this smoky roofs Of
Paris, held them, played with them,
sent them TO the wondering cars Of
other poor people who lived in attics
and In lodgings near by. Women
stopped sewing. Children ceased play
Ing. Men dropped their forks and,
leaving their evening meal crept on
tiDtoe to the open windows and lie
tened
Suddenly the mrgic grew louder,
more intense, and the time quickened
to madness. Then four longdrawn
notes, the came as at the beginning,
rang out and-there was silence.
AS the last note was sounded the
composer fell dead from the intense
effort and the past months OF starya-
ton.
The little summer breeze carried
with II his grand composition and his
soul.
A man sat In an Office before rich.
ly carved desk.
He was plain.looking business
man, fat, In white waistcoat. Before
him on the desk lay much money.
Ills fat hands. sparkling with yalu-
able rings. gathered up the crisp notes
and slipped chem into rubber bands,
packing them into packets Of ten thou.
sands. He then got up and carried
these packets to large safe set into
the wall OF the Office, placed them In
drawers, and locked the safe, signing
when he had done, like person does,
having lifted heavy weight
ILe then switched on the light and
threw open the big Office window look
ing out onto busy square filled by
hurrying people and vehicles.
fIe stood at the window some min.
utes. The summer breeze crept into
the office, touching his cheek with It's
warm caress.
II held music in it's imDalpable vapor
that heartrending waltz with It's
deep chords and simple harmony
The banker drew his handkerchief
from his pocket and wiped his brow.
his hand trembling aS he did 80. A
chill passed over him
He hastily closed the window and
then sank Into a chair He felt un-
nerved and weak His eyes wandered
about the Office In a troubled way
The music had full possession OF
him. II held him In It's cruelty IRE.
slatible power while, standing before
the safe, he saw poorly clad figure
holding d violin to It's chin, It's pale
face looking upward, its right arm
swinging the bow.
Tho figure was no ghost in the bank.
er's eyes To him 1t lived.
y He saw the aristocratic profile OF
tho player, an clearly cut as a cameo
The neck and profile brought d vague.
far-off memory to the banker.
lie was young again. Very young,
al his fathers country-place. In his
mind he saw the old trees, the lawns.
and moonlight nights Of June.
He saw Lucille, the farmers daush-
ter. as che crept In her pretty bare,
white feet ever the moonlit grass to
meet him under the shadow Of the
oaks.
He remembered his fathers anger.
the hurried departure. the long sea
voyage TO foreign lands. The return,
and the news OF Lucile's trouble and
denth. a.f ai
The waltz was drawing near the
end.
As the last four notes filed the office
with their magic harmony, the banker
held his arms out toward the figure
and cried, his voice full OF longing:
Speak Speak, My aon"
Bat II was too late.