Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 February 1913 — THAT WORN PAPER [ARTICLE]

THAT WORN PAPER

Teacher of Music Tells Pupil of His Greatest interests in Life.

BY ELLA M. BANGS.

paper Syndicate.) As Rudolph Hartman drew Ms bow through the concluding strains of the Dvorak Humoresque, he glanced'up to meet the intent gaze of a young girl, animated, vivid as a tropical flower in her dark beauty.' She was leaning forward, with glowing cheeks, and red lips parted, find from that moment' the young violinist was conscious of no one else in all the vast audience. Who she was he knew not, and she was lost to sight as the program ended. Eagerly he looked forward to the next concert, and yes—she was there. Again he realized only that one presence and through the following days the thought of her was the deep undercurrent beneath whatever else might occupy him at the moment. Suddenly one evening as he sat alone in his little room, something seemed to say, “What of the promise to your father?” The young man started up. Had the words been spoken? Had he been dreaming? That promise to hla father and all else had faded into insignificance and his father, dying, had begged from him the promise to devote hiß life to the cause wMch bad taken them from Germany, their fatherland, to England, and later to America. Now, to bring back his interest, he took from his desk a worn . paper, and spreading it out before him, sat with elbows on the desk and hands, ruffling his blond hair as he read the long familiar story. The facts were that years ago the great-grand-father, for Borne service rendered the ~ emperor, had been presented with a violin made by the incomparable 'Strqdivarius and Inlaid in the wood ■of its back was his name, Ludwig Von H&rtzmann. This priceless treasure had in time passed to the son, another Ludwig, who, being of a wildi, adventurous nature, found himself at a certain time in such straits that he had pawned the violin Intending later to redeem it When that day came the violin was not to be found. _ Sobered, the son spent his life in the vain search and, dying, besought his son—Rudolph’s father—to continue the work. Whllq Rudolph was a boy something gave his father reason to believe that the violin had been carried to London. Thither father and son went, remaining until a clew was found leading them to New York. Once more father and son had taken up life in a strange country, but within a year of their arrival Hartman the elder had died, leaving Rudolph to carry on ’the search alone. Aside from the value of the. instrument there was a legend in the family that success and good fortune would come only with the return of the violin to its rightful owner. Striving to / Bhut out the newer interest, Rudolph set about making inquiries, haunting music stores,'pawnshops, dealers in antiques, and every place where there seemed a possibility of finding trace of the lost Stradivarlus.

One evening as Rudolph sat alone he heard a knock at hiß door, and answering was confronted by a middleaged man wtlh an air of prosperity, who said questionlngly: “This is Prof. Rudolph Hartman?” ‘1 am Rudolph Hartman." The stranger presented his card giving the name Phineas West, and a moment later made known his errand . “I have come \,o ask if you will take my daughter for a pupil on the violin.” “A child —a beginner?" "Well,” the man smiled slightly, ”1 suppose she is a young lady to others. She is still a child to me.” The matter was arranged, and a few days later Rudolph was making his way toward the home of his prospective pupil. He knew Phineas West only as one of New York's many minor millionaires, and he as far from finding fault with the tact that he wished him to teach his daughter. He had waited a few moments in the elaborately appointed music room when the portieres parted and Jaqueline West entered. Was he dreaming? For a moment (he young teacher believed he must be, for she who was coming toward him was the girl who had lived in his thoughts from the day he had first seen her. Going up to him, she gave him her hand. "I want to thank you. Professor Hartman, for consenting to take me for a pupil.” Rudolph pulled himself together as he returned. "Perhaps it is I who should express the thanks. Yon have taken lessons —yes?" "A few." “Let me hear you play." The girl took up her violin, and without notes began to play. She did not play well and her teacher watched her a moment in perplexity. He, with quick intuition, guesssed. and rightly, that she had purposely not done her best, and Immediately master of the situation, he said gravely: "You can do better than that. Miss West. Play that again, please ” Recognising a new tone In his voice, the girl's face flushed. She regarded him a moment half defiantly before she bent again over her .violin land did her beet.

“Bravo! What did 1 say? Asa still you think I can teach you?** “Indeed yes. I want to do better — I want —my style—lt is not like yours, but of course,” in laughing confusion. “I cannot expect that!” The lessons yent on. What they meant to her Rudolph did not dream; what they were to himself he would not admit until one day the double realization came to him. After the lesson ended they sat talking when suddenly Rudolph began, “I think I must tell you of something I have never spoken of to’anyone since my father died —the greatest Interest of my life." For a moment there was silence then Jaqueline, busying herßelf with a sheet music, asked in a voice unlike her usual one, “And where does she live? In Germany?” The young man laughed. “I wish i flo returned. xr x ocubywi fyer in Germany I should not be here.” The girl turned and looked into his face, which whitened instantly at the misery in her own. “It is not as you think,” he burst out . “There is no woman —at least — not in Germany." The girl's face softened. - “I ’will tell you about it —some other time,” he went on.

Outside Rudolph walked unseeing down the street He should have known how this must end —for himself, and Phineas West would hardly thank him for stealing the heart of his only daughter. Stealing? Ah no. It had boon given him, of that he felt confident Fut the lessons must end, and after a sleepless night he went once more to the home of Jaqueline West “I have come," he began abruptly, “to say that as I can teach you very little more, the lessons had better not go on.” "You mean that you are dismissing me.” The girl’s voice was low and clear. is usually the part of the pupil, is it not?" “Forgive me, you do not understand.” The young man seemed in no haste to explain, and after a little the girl spoke. "It is on account of that other absorbing Interest, no doubt.” He did not respond and she reminded him of his intention to tell her about 1L Rudolph told her the story of the lost Stradivarius while the girl listened intently. x “iyhat was the name of your great-grandfather?” she asked as he paused. “Ludwig Von Hartzmann.” An almost incredulous expression passed over the girl’s face. "I wish you might find it," she said, “and this search is the only reason why our lessons must end?" Rudolph hesitated. “No," he began, "I will be quite frank, Miss West The reason I cannot come here is—because I love you." « “But —” the color coming and going in the girl’s face, “one would think that just the reason why you should—come.”

She looked up. He started toward her, then checking himself. “Your father,” he began, “he would never consent,” "Come tonight and ask him. Besides—l have another reason for wishing you to eome. You will?” How the day passed Rudolph could not have told, but evening found him once more at. the home of Phineas West, and that gentleman after a little remarked, "I have something I think you will be Interested to see. Jacqueline, hand me that case, please." The girl did she was bidden, a violin case was placed in Rudolph's hands. He opened it wonderlngly. “Ah,” he breathed, lifting reverently the instrument within. “Surely, Mr. West, this is a real—” “So I believe,” nodded the man. In a mase of admiration-and incredulity, the young man turned to the back, where inlaid in the wood was the name "Ludwig Von Hartxmann." “The lost stradlvarius!” he cried. "Where did you find it?” "In London,” was, the answer; “but from what my daughter tells me it belongs ,by right to you. I never Intended it to go out of the family, and. —also from what my daughter tells me—it need not, for it seems they both belong to you—Jacqueline and the Stradlvarius."