Part 3 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI
RICO'S MOTHER
The teacher was coming down the path from Sils, leaning heavily on his cane. He came directly from the funeral of Rico's father. He was coughing and panting as he greeted the grandmother, and he sank heavily to the seat beside her.
”If you are willing,” he said, ”I will rest here a few moments. My throat troubles me, and my chest is very weak. Of course, now that I am seventy years old I must expect such things. What a pity that a man of such powerful strength as the Italian must give up life! He was not yet thirty-five years old.”
”Yes,” said the grandmother, ”I, too, have been thinking how much better I might have been spared than he.”
”I know how you feel,” replied the teacher, ”but I suppose the older people have their place in life to fill as well as the younger ones.
Where would they find precept and example but for us? What will become of the boy yonder?”
”What will become of him?” repeated the grandmother. ”I have been asking the same question, and I cannot tell you. I only know that there is a Heavenly Father whom he still has, and he will doubtless find a place for the homeless one.”
”Tell me, neighbor, how it ever happened that an Italian should get a wife up here. There is no knowing what those strangers are.”
”I will tell you about them,” said the grandmother. ”You remember that the girl's mother had lost her husband and several children, leaving her only this one daughter. She was a charming maiden, with whom the mother lived for years alone. I think that it is about twelve years since the handsome young Trevillo first came here. He had joined a group of men who were working on the Maloja. It was a case of love at first sight with the young people. I am glad to be able to say that Trevillo was not only a very handsome man but also very capable. The mother was proud of her son-in-law and wanted them to remain with her.
They meant to do as she wished, but the daughter had a longing to see the place that Trevillo described to her when they walked up the Maloja. The mother objected strongly at first, but when she heard that Trevillo owned a house and farm, having left it simply to see something of the hills, she gave her consent and they moved away. She heard from them regularly through the mail, but the daughter preferred to remain in the new home, where they were very happy.
”A number of years later, Trevillo came back to the mother, carrying a little boy. 'There, mother,' he said, as he held the boy for her to take, 'we have come back to you without Marie. She and the other baby were buried a few days ago, and we cannot bear to live without her down there. If you don't mind, we will stay here with you.'
”It brought both happiness and sorrow to the mother. Rico was four years old and extremely lovable and good. He was a comfort to her and her last great pleasure, for she died a year later. People advised Trevillo to get the aunt to keep house for him and the boy, and thus they have lived ever since.”
”So that is their story!” remarked the teacher, when she had finished speaking. ”I never could imagine how it came about. It is possible that some relative of Trevillo's may come to take the child.”
”Relatives!” said the grandmother, scornfully. ”The aunt is a relative, and what does he get from her? Few enough kind words, I am sure.”
The teacher rose stiffly. ”I am rapidly getting old, my friend,” he said. ”I feel my strength leaving me to such an extent that I can scarcely get about.”
”You should still feel young in comparison with me,” said the grandmother, and she wondered at his feebleness as he walked away with slow, unsteady steps.
CHAPTER VII
A PRECIOUS LEGACY AND A PRECIOUS PRAYER
The pleasant summer days were at hand. The grandmother did not forget Rico's loneliness, and she helped Stineli with the work as much as possible, so that she and Rico might play together.
In the early days of September, when every one made an effort to stay out of doors for the last of the warm evenings, the teacher was forced to remain in the house, for he was growing weaker and coughed more and more. One morning, when he tried to rise as usual, he fell back upon his pillow, exhausted. This brought to his mind serious thoughts of how things would be left in case he died. He had lived among these mountain people all his life and loved both his home and his work, but he had no children, and his wife had been dead many years. The only one who lived with him was a faithful old servant. He had made no plans for disposing of his property. He loved his violin more than all his other possessions, and it grieved him to realize that the time was at hand when he must leave it. He remembered the day that Rico had been there and had held it so lovingly, and the desire came to him to leave it with the boy, so that it might always have the care it deserved. It seemed a shame that he must actually give away things for which he had worked so hard and cared so much. Many plans for disposing of them presented themselves, but each was put aside as he faced the grim messenger and realized that earthly things had served him all they could.
A fever was taking firm hold upon him. All the evening and through the long night he lay restless, thinking of his past and the little he had done for the world. He was seized by a longing to do some one a real kindness before it was too late. He reached for his cane and tapped the wall for his servant, whom he directed to summon the grandmother to him. It was not long before she stood by his bedside. Without waiting to extend his hand in greeting, he said: ”Please be so kind as to take the violin from the wall and carry it to the little orphan, Rico. I want to give it to him. Tell him that I hope he will take good care of it.”
The grandmother understood the restless impatience of the sick one, so she immediately lifted the violin from its place, saying: ”That is truly good of you. How astonished he will be! I will come in later to see how you are feeling.”
Rico was standing on the doorsteps when he saw the grandmother coming, and he ran to meet her.