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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, April 19, 1917, NOON EDITION, Image 19',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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"I want to get a few minutes' rest,
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he broke in.
"Of course I'll stop. 111 be as quiet
as I can."
He kept his word and she smiled to
v herself as she rested during the short
time that remained. She did not
think again about it. The unknown
"performer made no effort to push,
himself on her notice, and she had
more admirers than she knew how to
manage. She studied a good deal
and attended ' strictly to business,
which was one of the reasons for her
success. A pleasing personality,
magnetism and a good voice being
the other factors in rising to "star
dom." Three years after this episode she
was touring through the west, the
star in another opera. They were
playing a few one-night stands
through a mining district before
reaching the large city. Richton, the
smallest place in which they had ever
played, had a very unpromising look.
The "opera house" looked more like
a skating rink, with a real estate of
fice underneath, and the miners'
shacks were in close proximity.
Rosa Velda had never been quite
so close to elemental life and she
found the place interesting. She
walked out alone to look it over, as
there was still quite a little time be
fore dinner hour. The huts became
more straggling and farther apart
Suddenly she pansed. She heard the
notes of a violin. The music was her
song, "The Love That Lived," As
she listened she felt sure it must be
the man she had taught who was
playing. A whimsical desire to see
him came upon herr but how in the
world could she manage it? She
stood still, wondering. Then a man
opened the door and came out. He
stopped suddenly as he saw her, and
he, too, stood still. He was tall, well
' knit of frame, with a good, clear-cut
face. He wore the rough mining togs
and might have been about 30 years
Rose Velda was the first one to
s'mile. This encouraged him to speak.
"Miss Velda," he said, "may I take
this chance to thank you? For
years I've wanted to, but I felt it
might only annoy you. INmeant noth
ing to you. How much you and your
kindness to me might mean I
thought wouldn't matter to you.
Maybe I'm bungling this and you do
not understand. I mean I'm the man
you taught that song, who was try
ing to play it on the violin, and "
"Yes," she laughed, "I recognized
it just now."
"Did you?" he cried. "And was it
"Perfectly. You have improved in
"Do you tiink so? I know I don't
play well. I play by ear, just picked
it up; never was taught"
"Why don't you take some les
sons?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I've never had
the time. Always had to shift for
She started to go.
"Will you sing that song tonight?"
"Oh, no, it isn't in this opera."
"I'm so sorry. I hoped I might hear
it again," he said with unmistakeable
"Let me come in and I'll sing-it for
you now," she laughed.
He led the way into his cabin in a
kind of ecstatic dream. She noted
curiously the clean white curtains at
the window, the Navajo blanket on
the bunk and the books on the shelf;
also the cooking outfit She had al
ways wanted to see the interior of
one of these shacks and she was glad
that this one was clean and orderly.
"Do you suppose you can play the
accompaniment?" she asked.
He thought he couldLand did. The
tones of a lovely soprano voice float
ed out and cause some wonderment
"Thank you," he said. "I won
der if sometime I should hap
Den to be where you are siner