The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1883-10-31

Then, papa, you will be alone with
mamma Do not tremble, am not afraid
for myself, but dread lest mamma should
not be strong enough to do everything
Look, how pale she isr'
The actor turned, and seemed astonish-
ed at what he saw.
.'She has never been very strong,s he
said calmly.
This selfish reply, and, above all, the
tone in which it Yves made, confirmed Dora
in her intention.
"What will become of you both2 Yes, 1
know you have great hopes and expecta-
tions, but they will never be realized
Dear father. do not wish to hurt your
feelings. but it seems to me that, at your
age, with your intelligence, you ought to
be doing something. Mr.. Florence, am
sure, would"
She spoke slowly, choosing her words
with care, and waiting a moment after
each sentence; but the actor did not yet
grasp her meaning. He listened intently,
with a vague consciousness that he was
being accused of something; but of what,
he had no idea.
Il think" continued ora,timidly, ethat
it would be far wiser TO relinquish--"
"Whatf"
She stopped, astonished at the effect of
her words; for tears, real tears, rose to
her fathers eyes. He understood her
now. Of the only two admirers left him
by cruel fate, one had now deserted
himl His child believed in him no longer!
1t was not possible Dora's courage fed
before the mute entreaty of his gaze be-
sides, her strength was exhausted.
She murmured, "Give up--give up
Her head fell back upon her pillows, and
she died without having dared to say
what she wished him to relinquish.
X n y
The aforesaid De Lacy is dead, my
worthy magistratel She told you that
she would never again make an attempt at
suicide, and she did not break her word.
This time Death came TO heissand took her
away. And now, incrcdulous representa-
tive Of the law, you may accept the evil
dence of four stout oak planks instead Of
her protestations.
Dora's death made sensation in the
neigborhood. Not that she was so great
fayorite, for she went ont rarely, and was
course. at her burial. there would be
number of actors, and London is inquisi-
tive about that class. 1t likes to see them
in the street, off the stage; it likes to see
what is real and what is artificial about
them; so the funeral would be great OPP
portunity for the curious.
To do them justice, if not always har-
monious, actors have certain esprit do
corps towards each other in affection
Although De Lacy's name had entirely
disappeared from the playbills, and was
completely unknown to the rising genera
ton of theatre-goers, it only needed
couple of lines in the Era--"Mr. De Lacy,
formerly attached to the principal thea
tesr of Yarmouth and Ipswich, informs
his friends" &c.--to bring out large force
of London actors.
Famous or unknown--those who had
played with De Lacy in the provinces;
those who had met him Mt the Strand and
Covent Garden shouses of CALL" where he
was always to be seen-they constituted
a goodly number.
All these people expected to see their
names in the list of those present at the
funeral. They live in such constant fear
of being forgotten by tickle public, that
they grasp every opportunity of thrust
ing themselvs into notice.
The day arrived. All the windows in
the neighborhood were filed with faces
A crowd was gathered in the street, wait
ing for the coming of the funeral guests.
Some on foot, others in carriages, easily
recognized by their closely shaven faces,
and exaggerated gestures. The different
manner in which these good people mani
Tested their sympathetic emotion on this
painful occasion was very remarkable
Each entered the hall as if going on the
stage; one dashed u tear from the corner
of his eye with his gloved finger; another
stood still for moment, the left foot
thrown slightly forward, and his hand up
on his breast, as if saying: BE quiet,
heart" This was acting, and yet sincere.
As soon as they were in the room, the
actors separated into two distinct classes;
those who were of n certain celebrity
gathered together, and looked with con-
tempt upon the unknown comedians, who,
in their turn, whispered audibly; "Do you
see how So-al so has changedf How
old he has grown"
De Lacy vihrated between these two
groups. The poor fellow was half broken
hearted. but his grief did not prevent him
from carefully curling his hair and being
anxious as to the fit of his black gloves.
Had any one been able to look into his
very soul, it would have been impossible
to say where his pretence began, so close
ly were they interviewer.
Old Chip darted about, more important
than ever, while his wife remained above
with the poor mother.
Sylvia did not appear. but her husband
was there. the good friend who had de-
frayed all the expenses of this last cere-
mony, and who seemed as overwhelmed
by grief as the father himself. The car
riages we're numerous, and the hearse
most imposing, with its nodding plumes
and white flowers. The funeral process
sion started; De Lacy in the first carriage,
shaken by sobs, thinking more of his own
sorrows, OF the father burying his only
child, than of the child herself Far be-
low his sincere grief lay his intolerable
personal vanity, like huge rock lies at
the bottom of river, motionless in spite
Of storms or waves. The pomp of the cer-
emony, the long procession, the mourning
coaches, and Sylva's brougham, all fiat
tered and excited him, in spite of the
gnawing pain at his heart. Dear little
Dora, so good and simplel All this was
for her.
But, above. at the window of the old
work-room, stood Mrs. De Lacy. who could
not be prevented from watching the pro-
cession depart. Behind the closed blinds
she waved her thin hand. Farewell"
murmured the mother almost to herself
farewell, my darlingw and, softly as the
words were spoken, Dora heard them.
CHAPTER XVIII.
One night, towards the end of the fol-
lowing January Job Denman sat in his lit
tie home at Hammersmith.
at is of no use,n he said to himself, "for
me to go to bed, for cannot sleep" And
in truth the good old cashier had good
cause for anxiety--two large payments to
be made, and no funds in hand to meet
them. What was to be done2 Job had
tried several times to speak of the matter
to young Speed, but George avoided all
responsibility, land only appeared at his
office at intervals. To the cashiers anx-
ious questions, he would only answer,
pulling his moustache, "Don't trouble
yourself, Denman, it will be all right" and
had the air at the same time of not know
ing what he said. The report gained
ground in certain quarters that Sylvia
was as faithless to him as she had been
to her husband, and this made him very
unhappy. In fact he was more occupied
by Sylvia's caprices than by his business