The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1878-08-29

Lillian receiver tllc COHBIatu1A''''Aa " - -
company, who few hours ago were ready
to .snecr ut her.
The skeptical manager enthusiastically
entered into permanent engagement with
her, or rather Lillian with him, as leading
lady. The old gentleman before mention;
ed was suspected OF dancing a Highland
ilingin secret.
But what OF Madam Raynor? She knew
the time had come ut last when the crown
had been plucked from her head, and that
By the hand OF girl.
Natures which have lived and suffered
as had hers, hate remOrselessly,. The
better part Is lost or drowned as by the
waters OF a raging sea. She saw not the
sweet, trusting face, mirroring the sweet,
pure soul. She only saw the rival who
had deposed her-in oil the world there
was no other sight than that.
But she mingled the fox with the
tigress. People wondered at her grand
magnanimity when she poured her nd
miration into Lilian's ears. None saw,
behind II all, the heart which throbbed
like some mighty engine OF destruction.
Did we not say Madam Raynor was q
great actress2 That night she slept not,
and the morning found her as she had
been through all the weary hours, with
clenChed hands and glariRg eyes.
Never was she so great in her art, as
when with Lillian. She taught the girl
to love her and believe she was beloved.
She used to say, in sweet, low tones:
"My child, how could be envious OF
her whose image | carry in my hearth"
Then, when alone, she grouned her heel
upon the picture OF Lillian which the
trusting girl had given her. Blame her
II YOU will, but remember oil the Joy she
had in life was torn from her by the wo-
man she hated.
Their rooms were adjoining. Madam
said sit pleased her to be 50 near her
darling"
Thus for months she played the fox,
but the time came when she could only be
the tigress.
One night, when taking the character
in which Lillian had made her tirst great
triumph, Malam Raynor was bissed. She
started, as though snakes forked tongue
had struck her.
'Her life for thisp she gasped. There
was demon in her heart and murder in
her eye.
Lillian had had q long interview with
the old gentleman that evening, and he
had tOlcd her that which gave her Joy,
such as she had never known before. 1t
was the fullilIment OF the dearest dream
OF her soul. When they parted, she had
asked:
"Can tell her Tonight"
And he had answered.:
"No; better wait till tomorrow"
When he had gone, tremblingly she
murmured:
"SIy dear, dear motherl"
Twelve! Lillian listens to the bell and
thinks:
Tomorrow, when it again strikes thus,
| shall be in her arms, my head upon her
breast"
Then she slept, and dreaming of the
morrow, smiled.
Madam Raynor, in her own room, bat
tied with herself. In that moment of rage
and modification ut the theater, thdre had
been murder in her heart. Now the
voice OF conscience laundering rather than
whispering, cried, "Hold! Stain not your
soul with blood~
That awful voice was not to be silenced.
She almost iancied it ringing through
the midnight air, and awaliing the sleeping
girl,
1t is over now, and Madam Raynor, up
on her knees, thanked God that she Is say-
ed from such crime. She rises, and her
soul is almost peaceful.
She feels an irresistible desire to sec the
face OF her she might have slain. Softly
she steals into Lillian's room. Wondering
" she hears the dreaming sleeper murmer,
"AIother."
The woman steps to the bedside. The
moonlight streaming in, throws halo
round the girl. That face, always an in
nocent one, now, when the world is lost in
Greenland, is like the face Of q little
child.
What does that proud, cynical woman
see In it that she should lay her hand
upon her heart to still its beating? What
memories are those that, like long-tor-
gotten strains OF music, bring tears TO her
ewes? As one who forgives, and feels she
needs forgiveness, she bends and kisses
the sweet lips.
Lillian's eyes open, and her arms wind
round the others neck, and again she
whispers:
"Afotherl"
oh, what yearning fills the dcsolate
woman's heart OK she hears the words she
has longed for through oil tho weary
years!
She thinks the girl is hardly awake yet,
and answers passionately:
"Child! child! You mock me with that
name.
Lillian is weeping,
"Mock you, mother darling? Mockyou!
No, mol / was not to tell you till to-mor-
n z II ans nt
dreaming. lam no woman tonight, but
your little, little child"
"Yes, mother, your child. Believe it.
oh, believe It'll As / lay my head upon
your breast, see in my face the face OF the
baby OF DID,"
IT do, my sweet one-my own, ! do!
My daughter, my child, my little baby
again, love me--love mol"
Glove you? Oh, mother! mothori"
No more mo more! Theirs Is no need;
La 1,a 81 ain InWp