The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1921-06-18


ination. And he was undeniably inter-
esting-his picturesqueness his charm
of manner, and his evident apprecia-
tion of her own beauty. Suddenly but
without confusion she realized that
she had been staring at him long and
inquisitively, that she was shifting un-
easily under his intense gaze.
'Tis unlucky with cards." she said.
How do you tell it?"
me ould fiddle" he said earnestly,
has the truest tongue in all creation.
IT'S not me but me fiddle will tell ye."
The girl looked incredulously at this
hunchbacked old roamer of the roads,
whose voice was so entreating, so NOV
ing in its reminiscent righteousness.
Should she refuse one so anxious to
render her service?
Seeing her hesitation, the fiddler,
added hastily: "Sure I'm not trying to
work We for money, avourneen. Twill
be the delight of me heart to let me
ould fiddle answer the riddle that's
achin' yeer heart and standing right
in yeer eye this minute"
The riddle in her heart! Irene
was startled by the shrewdness of the
old mans guess. for guessing he surely
must be- Then how will you tell it?"
she asked.
With impressive seriousness the old
hunch-back fixed his gaze on the beaut-
iful face framed by dark, luxuriant
hair and lighted by deep blue laughter
eyes, clouded little now by doubt. He
held out the violin with both hands.
PLUCK what ever string We like" he
commanded, land if the heart of We is
the home of thrue love itself, twill
resound through the heart of me fiddle
the like of which for telling the
truth there is not in all four corners
of Erin. Aye, and twill tell me
thrue the answer to your riddle"
Difidently she plucked string as
hidden and the blooming note of the
old instrument filled the little story.
"Aha, so it's that, is it? There's
a longing in yeer heart, miss, for
some one that's far away. Isn't it
thru what I'm telling ye?" He was
piteously eager for confirmation of
his statement. Impulsively he laid an
over-hot entreating hand on the girls
arm. She withdrew quickly and lean
ed against the shelves back of the
counter, somewhat surprised and Of
Tended Surely he had not read her
soul through the violin. No, but
through her eyes! Did she then go
amongst the people with her yearning
proclaiming itself in her every glance?
She was really annoyed She would
send the old rascal away.
The fiddler mistook her silence for
wonder. AYE, it's wonderful to ye,
no doubt. But it's more wonderful
what I'm going to tell We. Yeer
sweetheart is beyant the say and"
You've been asking the neighbors
questions about me-" Irene was very
indignant.
Upon me soul and honor, the
divil a word" His manner was so
earnest, his voice so entreating and
reminiscent, she believed in spite
of herself. -
Can you tell me any more?"
: II can tell We more than any other
living man." He asserted his power
impressively, proudly.
"What?" Irene was eager now,
though only half convinced.
''The gossoon of yeer heart loves
We as truly as mortal man can love.
Believe me, tbs himself is longing
for the sight of We, and cursing the
day he ever left We. Aye, and it's
sad and sore he is now to be away
from the sweetness of yeer lips and
the lovelight in yeer eyes. Me fiddle
tells me his heart is full of his col
cen, and the divil thraneen he cares
for any other living woman
There had been a world of sim
cerity in his voice, world of en-
treaty for relief in his manner It
was plain he was anxious, feverishly
anxious, that she should believe as
completely in his soothsaying as he
himself evidently did.
Despite her incredulity, Irene heard
his statement gladly. Without caring
to admit, even to herself, any belief
in fortune telling, she hoped, sim
cerely hoped that there was some
thing of truth in the old mans state
ment. That ancient diviner, noting
her tribulation, left her with but a
benediction, making his way to the
door slowly and murmuring: God
bless We, God bless We, avourneen.
I'll come back tomorrow and play
We another few bars of the 'Coolun'."
Go raib matt agat (thank you)."
The Gaelic fell from her tongue
melodiously-the absent one had de-
lighted in the language of his people.
1T does me heart good to be play
ing for the likes of a lover of music
that We are" he said, as in explain
alton, and departed.
And the next day and the next for
many days thereafter, though the fu-
ries of the northeast wind shrieked
their vengeance as they swept over
the rock summit of Travilahawk and
rushed down the main street to bite
and sting and freeze the jwayfarers,
swapping the life of threads Of the
aged and the delicate and ove-work.
ing the gray-headed old digger of
graves in the churchyard to the south
beyond the turn of the though
all this was SO, the old musician faith,
fully fulfilled his promise and played