Mondovi High School - Mirror Yearbook (Mondovi, WI)

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6 THE HIGH SCHOOL MIRROR asked and then, with a smile upon his lips, he whispered, ‘Carlotta,’ and was gone. e cont nued our search for the girl without result. Your story and the mentioning of a picture told me that, at last, I had found you.” For answer, the other rose and extinguished the lights. Stepping to the fireplace, she touched a tiny bulb. A panel of the mantel opened noiselessly, and in the opening was a picture of a youth and maiden, looking for all the world as if the originals stood before the breathless group. The flames fell flickeringly over the scene and at times brought into startling vividness the extraordinary beauty of the picture. For a moment the girl stood motionless before it and then exclaimed. exultantly, ‘‘Yes, I am Carlotta. See! it is Lionel and Carlotta! No one spoke. All eyes were riveted on the opening in the mantel, riveted on that marvelous picture of youth and beauty. At last the spell was broken. All eyes wandered from the picture to the girl beside it. She was leaning forward eagerly, one hand slightly raised, the other clasping the violin. In a voice scarcely above a wh'sper, they heard her say, “Listen! I hear again the waves as they lap against the shore: I see the moonbeams flit across the silvery lake; I hear in the distance the mournful cry of the whippoorwill, and mingling with the music of the night are the strains of a violin, and Lionel's voice, singing softly, sadly, and for me alone. It is a farewell song. Come. I will play it for you, just as he taught it me.” She nestled the violin lovingly against her cheek and with trembling fingers drew the bow across the instrument. The room was filled with music; vvierdly, uncannily, the tones rang out. At first, they were wild and despairing, speaking of untold anguish at parting, then gradually they grew softer, and, as they died away into silence, breathed a calm restfulness, like that which comes after the storm. The music ceased. The girl lifted her head and seemed to listen. “Hark, what is that? Is it but the whispering of the p nes, or is it-- Yes, yes, it it he; he is waiting, I hear him calling for me to come. Lionel, I am coming —coming—coming!” The violin slipped to the floor unnoticed, Carlotta stood, hands outstretched to the picture, and eyes soft and tender, looking into the beyond where the others could see not. Slowdv she sank back in ber chair and lay motionless. Without, the storm had ceased, and within, the room brightened and filled with a heavenly radiance that fell gently, protectingly, over the bowed figure. Caryl Courtnay sprang to her feet and with a quick movement flooded the room with light. Bending over the st’ll form she called, “Carlotta, Carlotta!” The white lips did not answer. Again she pleaded, but the figure remained motionless. The only sound in the room was the last faint chime of the vdlage bell, tolling out the hour of midnight, for, with the passing of Christmas day, Carlotta had gohe to meet her lover.—Mamie Magadance. ’14. Statement of the Ownership, Management, Circulation, Etc., of High School Mirror, published every six weeks at Mondovi, Wis., required by the Act of August 24, 1912. Name of Editor, Edgar Earrington, Mondovi, Wis. Business Manager, Paul Walker, Mondovi, Wis. Publisher, Mondovi Higli Sehool, P. F. Neverman, Principal Sworn to and subscribed before me this 30th ay of September, 1912. II. A. WHELAN, Notary Public.

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THE HIGH SCHOOL MIRROR 5 could never forget them—dark, lustrous, with restless, brilliant light that haunted one with their anguish. Unresisting, she let them remove her cloak, and then stood silently before them, a slender, graceful creature of twenty, her rich garments, her pose, everything, denoting the marks of good breeding. They saw now that she carried a violin, and seating herself before the fire, she touched its lovingly, and tested its every note to see if it bad been injured by the storm. Then she rested it in her lap. and lifting her bend wearily, she spoke. Her voice was low and sweet. It thrilled the listeners and made them draw closer—all but Caryl Courtnay, who again drew back into the shadows. “I’m afra'd I am intruding, but I had to come once more to be w th him, for perhaps it will be the last time. Tonight I am very tired, and when I was at the lake, I heard h:m calling for me to come. You wonder what I am talking about? I will explain: My aunt and uncle, of New York, own this place, and, until a short time ago, they used it as the:r country home. Three years ago today they entertained a crowd of their city friends at a Christmas dinner. I was visiting them at the time, and came to know one of their guests, a young artist. After the party he often spent the week-end with my aunt and uncle and we became very good fr ends. Several months later I was called home by the illness of my parents. Before 1 went we planned to meet aeain at th:s place, two years from the day we parted. During these two years my parents d:ed and my relatives moved away from here. I came back to find a deserted house, but I had plenty of money, so I remained; and though the people say this house is haunted by a ghost, I am the only one who has ever been here. A year has passed and yet he who promised to come ba k has not come. V hile I was still at n y old home he sent me a pi lure of h self and me, w hich he had painted. 1 brought it w th me, and hid n in tl s room. hile you have occupied t e house, I have slept -ut-of-doors, 1 it every night after you had retired. I came to be with him. Tonight I f? -cied I heard h:m calling me. I cou 1 stay away no longer, so I came. Tl, t is all. Quickly Caryl Courtnay came f -ward from the shadows and stood 1 ;-fore the stranger. Bending toward h r, she touched her gen'ly on the ai l and whispered, “Carlotta! The oth r sprang to her feet and cr ed, “G( 1. that voice, that bar. and those eye;! I can never forget them. Who are you ?’’ “I am Caryl, Lionel Courtnay’s s:s-ter. and I have a message for you.” “For me, w'as the dazed answer, “for me, and it is from Lionel? Tell me!” “Yes, from Lionel. About two years ago he left for Africa with a party of friends. While there, he became sick of a deadly fever. He never fully re covered from its effects, so he returned home. After Ifs arrival, he steadily grew worse and the doctor told us he could not live. In his delirium he called incessantly for Carlotta. raved about her dark hair, her glorious eyes, and of a picture he had painted of her and himself. He would try to rise from his bed. crying out that she was waiting for him by the lake and that he had promised to meet her at the end of two years. We looked everywhere for the girl, but we never found her. At the very last. Lionel grew conscious. With his dying breath he begged us to find Carlotta. to tell her why he could not come, and to say that he would meet her in heaven. We promised him all he

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THE HIGH SCHOOL MIRROR 7 AN AFRICAN POCAHONTAS. A clear, tropical mo : hone on the “King George II” as she s iled calmly throuj li the peaceful waters toward the shores trf Africa. Land was in sight and preparations were being made for the struggle with the natives, which was sure to ensue. To Godfrey Grahme, on his first trip to Africa on the Engl'sh slave sh:p. th s was a wonderful voyage. As the young EngPshman leaned over the railing his mind was busy with the perplexmg queston of the slave trade. Somewhere he had received the vague idea that these negroes were not mere animals to be isolated from their people at the will of the English traders. So he sought the side of Peter Scrim, an aged Dutch sailor, who had kept careful watch of the young English boy. “God bless and keep King George II, exclaimed the old sailor fervently, as the boy reached him. Til's usual exclamation by Peter was considered a sort of pun, for it was never known whether he meant the King of England or the ship on which they sailed. “Peter,” the young man said, “I want to go ashore.” “Aye, aye, so do we,” the sailor replied. The ship then dropped anchor and soon all talking ceased, but still young Grahme sat by the old sailor’s side. “Letter turn in,” the old man suggested briefly. “I want to go ashore,” the other repeated. Just then the first mate came forward. “The captain has ordered me to take a few men and go ashore to look the place over before daylight.” he announced. Godfrey Grahme was on his feet in an instant. “Til go,” he cried. Silently they embarked in a small boat and set off for the shore, five men in all, three middle-aged sailors, , the male and Godfrey Grahme. As he landed for the first time on the shores of Africa he felt a wild desire to shout for joy, but restrained himself. The mate spoke to the sailor, “John, take Grahme and VVhisby and follow the stream a few miles in search of a settlement. Brune and I will take this branch. Be back no later than s:x o’clock in the morning.” And with Brune as companion the first mate disappeared into the night, as he followed a branch of the river in search of native dwellings. Stealthily John, Wlrsby, and Grahme advanced for several rods when they found it necessary to ford the stream. Still farther on Grahme paused with, “I’ve lost my lucky stone.” “You’ll lose your head next, growled the old sailor. “I'm going back after it.” was the response. “Stay,” said the sailor—then, “well go, but hurry back.” It had been the lucky stone in his family for years and he -could not be the one to lose it, for with it he would also lose the luck of the Grahme family. It was a simple thing to find the place where they' had crossed, and not far from there, glimmering faintly. Grahme found his lucky stone. Thankfully he pocketed its and started back. Coming to the place where he had before forded the river, he decided to go on without crossing, thinking that he could catch the others sooner. At last he reached a marshy spot and for some