"
"And did you find her!"
"Yes, Alfonso, that is, all that was left of the vivacious, happy
songster, as we once knew her. Her new world surroundings proved
disastrous."
"How so?"
"Look, here is a picture in water color, that tells the story." Saying
this the Marquis slowly removed a white paper from a small sketch which
he had made the week before. It was a picture in the morgue on the East
River, with its half hundred corpses, waiting recognition or burial in
the Potter's Field. Upon a cold marble slab lay the body of a young girl,
her shapely hands across her breast. Alfonso recognized Rosie's sweet
face and golden tresses that artists had raved over.
The marquis in sad tones added a few words of explanation. "The senator
who educated Rosie proved a villain. When she acted as Juliet at the
Capitol, fashionable society gave hearty approval of her rare abilities.
Rosie's genius, like a shooting star, flashed across the sky and then
shot into oblivion."
A few days afterwards, Alfonso on the pier with his white handkerchief
waved adieu to Leo who had resolved to wed art in sunny Italy. Sad
memories decided Alfonso to leave New York at once. For a short time he
was inclined to give up a new purpose, and return to his own family at
Harrisville, but the law of equity controlled his heart, he journeyed
back to the Pacific Coast, and again approached the Yosemite Valley.
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