Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1882-10-14
played the cLambsrmaids, began to tease
Evadne, and to call Lieutenant Lysart

spoke TO her upon tine suolecL go uAu ner
mother, but she only answered US with
tears, and we could not bear to see her
| weep.
For the young man, his conduct was re.
| spectful and becoming. | showed him by
my manner that | thought his visits too
frequent, but he called as usual. l dlscov-
cred that, though an only son, he was poor,
for the estate had borne the burthen OF
long lawsuit, arising out CT disputed in
| herItsnce.
It was the last week of the season. At
ter | had played in the frat piece-the
"Warlock of the Glen u went home to
supper. Mistress Mephistopheles had pre-
pared some tripe. l ate heartily, and, after
a pipe, returned to the theater to fetch
| Evadne, who acted in the interlude. She
was not in her dressing-room. knocked
at the door, and was told by Miss Panker
that she had dressed herself hurriedly and
gone. l thought it odd that she should
not have waited for me, and walked home
again hastily, hoping to catch her. Her
mother told me she had not seen her. l
ran back to the theater the curtain had
not fallen on the last piece. Evadne was
nowhere TO be found. By this time l grew
seriously alarmed. / few home, and found
my wife in strong Mysteries. With the
assistance OF the landlady, | restored her.
She could not speak, but she held in her
hand q crumpled letter 1t ran:
DEAREST, dearest. FATHER and MOTHER: l write
this in great anguish, for know that you will think
me unaffectionate and Endutiful. Oh Go not--dO
not think i'll of till you know all II will be use
less attempting to seek me, or TO find out where
have gone Heaven bless you my dear father and
mother (.
l learned afterwards that the note had
been brought by boy-a soldiers son
from the barracks.
| will pass over our terrible trouble.
The abandonment of fond parents by a
young girl has been described too often for
me to dwell upon it here. Suffice it, the
child had quilted the town with Lysart.
l made inquiries, but in vain. At the
! first inn on the road, l could hear nothing
of them.
Fortunately the two following nights 1
was out of the bills, but on the last night
of the season l played Roland in the in.
teresting and pathetic drama of :sClari
or Home, sweet Home" 1t is not piece
played much nowadays. II would not suit
the modern, natural, impertinently familiar
style of acting-among the 90 how-do-y gu.
to-day -" half-a- pound of cut
it.fat " school, as l call 1.-THE school
which teaches Richard, when, on the eve
of the battle that is TO decide his fate,
crown and kingdom, he asks Catesby, SIS
ink and paper ready" to do so in the tone
that he would order q tavern.waiter to
Dried fried sole and chop to follow.
A large house was attracted by nv an.
pearance in % Clari," for the piece treats of
a father whose daughter had deserted him
for the arms of betrayer-in fact, the
! slt aNsntlry T.,
ful trial for me, but | owed duty to the
public, and L resolved to gothrough with it.
' The audience held their breath az the
slow music played, and I appeared upon
the bridge with my gun upon my shoulder.
They received all that 1 said with the
! greatest attention, but no applause. Every
eye was watching me to see how much of
the emotion [ expressed was real or false,
| human or dramatic.
| felt 10y heart sink when Miss Parker
| played Carl 1.-THE child had been cast for
the part), came on yelled, and told me
story SO nearly resembling my own. When
| she asked my counsel as TO the course she
| should persue towards her father, | recited,
amid a solemn silence
g Shall paint his ther fatier's) agoniz.
ing suffering to you l can do SO, for |
have felt i'll feel it now. once had q
daughter oh how dotted on her, words
cannot spesk-thoxghts cannot measure ::
yet she sacrificed ma to villain. Her in.
| gratitude has bleached this head, her
wickedIess has broken this heart, and now
my detestatiOn is upon her. On do not
! you resemble her Remain not a moment
longer from your father. Fly to him ere
his heart give way as mine does now-ere
ne cures you as | now CURSE"
| | could say no more +; my feelings flood
ed my throat, and fell on the stage sense
| less.
was laid on my bed with fever for three
weeks ; when l recovered, my wife-whose
devotion during my illness deserved piece
of plate-caught it from me, aud had TO
nurse her. We pulled through it, though,
and LETT the town, both very old and broken.
-Four years passed away. Each summer
We received letter containing five Bank
of England notes, each for fl0. The en-
veiope bore London postmark, but, though
the address was written in an unfamiliar
hand, we knew from whom they came. l
need not say they were left untouched.
Our life was sad one. After my illness
my voice lost much of its strength and mel
lowness, and even the most indulgent of
| British publics like plenty of lungs. l
could only get enga gements in small thea
! tiers, where the salary was inconsiderable,
even when paid.
l was acting at Crumblecrag. IL was
bitter winter, the snow was on the ground,
and the business had been wretcbed, | was
| playing Rolla TO a small but highly intelli.
! gent audience, aud as the curtain fell and [
lay upon my bier, 1 was informed that a
| gentleman wished to speak to me. got off
my bier, dressed myself and went out A
tall man in light coat was standing under
gas.lamp. l stepped forward and said
g Pray, sir, are you the"
The man turned round and said, "Mr.
Mumford ~
nearly fell. It was Lysars
Allow me to assist you"
IS How dare you to touch me ?" l cried
feeling, partly from indignation, partly from
| dramatic habit-heaven help me for the
4 hilt of my sword.
!" | want to speak to you" said Lysars.
owe cannot talk in the open air; oblige
me by coming to the hotel for few rlia-
utes-oniy for a few minutes"
He. seemed not only easy and uncon-
| cerned, but in high spirits and good humor
l followed him mechanically. We were
shown into room, and he shut the door,
"Now, my dear Mr.. Mumford," he be.
gan.
Have you brought me here to insult
me, Mr.. Lysart %
" Pardon me, l am now Sir Percy Ly-
sart -
You are a villain, sir - l exclaimed.
Where 8 my child my daughter? where
is she? Give her to me -
Eyadne Mamfcrd," he replied, "exists
no longer -.
dead y
He made no answer, but went to the
door, opened 1T, and admitting woman
elegantly dressed, said
ALLOW me to present you to Lady Ly-
sart -
Great heaven It was Evadne
knew it was Evadne, for the next mo.
ment l had her in my arms and on my
knees. Oh how we kissed each other,
and how we cried and sobbed, and how
happy we werel (Sir Percy walked away
and pulled out his northumberland
1t was herself, Evadne oh ! my darling
and my JOY My Vad Yad !! Vad IL
And it was all real and true, and not q
dream, and / shouldn't wake up to watch
the squares of the window-psnes upon the
blind.
"But mamma" said Evadne Il beg
har r5n,, I'll