The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1884-01-30
INTERESTING STORY.
IIFoR LOVE OF AN ACTRESS.
BY w. G. FULTON.

: = i''f f.tt
s'iie gave none, sir; said you knew
him well. 'is9s lJ if ilfIt ~
s'Show him in sz.s.
/ threw aside the evening paper as |
babe the office boy show the gentleman
into our private apartment, with scarce
thought us to who this stranger might
be. The openingof the door announced
his entrance, when beheld a medium
sized man with dark hair and eyes,
heavy moustache and closely-eut whis-
kers, and a clear though somewhat pal
lid complexion.
= Mr.. Weldon. believer"
THAT is my name," responded, as
much in the dark as to his identity as
ever. q M asn et1
why, Bob, don't you know me?n he
asked, observing my puzzled express
sion. a
=. Ned Pierce, as I'm alivel'' and 1
grabbed his outstretched hand with a
yigor thai made him vince.
why, Ned, what under the heavens
ever brought you to Paris? The very
last person in the world | would have
dreamed of seeing.
1.-THE channel steamer brought me to
France, andI naturally drifted to the
metropolis through the medium of the
steam cars, But how long have you
been in this c,tyy"
Five years last December
And then he told me how it was by
the .merest chance that he found me.
Having some financial matters to at
tend to, he had inquired at the hotel
for an American banking house, and
had been given. among several others,
the names of Howe Ralston and Well
don. Inquiry disclosed the fact that it
was none other than his old friend
Weldon of former years. and hence his
seeking me out. OF course nothing
would do but that he must accompany
me home, and, as it was then nearly
dinner-time. we started at once.
II have nothing elaborate to offer,
] Ned,n | explained, 'sbut my bachelor
apartments are at least comfortable,
and we can talk over old times and have
quiet smoke
mot married yet. Weldon?'
mo, and no prospect of it,"
THAT'S singular. supposed. of
course, you were married and settled
down long ago.
"Why of eourseY' I6
20. don't know! No especial reas-
on. only it was one of my air-eastles to
find you a Benedict with an interesting
family
Not any for me. thank you'll That
is where your building was at fault.
And you?''
The sudden turn | gave to the con-
versation seemed to discomfort him for
moment. and he answered, with a lit
tie bitter, ironieal laugh:
81? | guess am a confirmed bach
elor.n
Ned had always been such jolly COM
panion! Ever ready for a good time,
and neither better nor worse than 4
great many young men. He had his
faults, as who has not? And as for his
good traits of character, they appear
sometimes so unexpectedly as to seem
all the better for the contrast We
were quite good friends years ago, and
came as near making a contidant of
him as | ever did of any one. | was
never very much given to oyer-intimate
friendships with any body, like many
young men, and the majority of young
ladies. On the contrary, while enjoy
ing the society of others, | was always
of a very reticent turn, rarely telling
any of my companions anything of my
personal affairs. What good would
lying in his path. they are none the
more easily overcome by pouring out
ones trials into the willing ear CT a
ready listener And, ON the other hand,
if one has bit OF good fortune, how
few people there are in the world who
really care to hear it.
And it was six years since ! had last
seen Ned lleigh-ho! How time does
fly! It's no wonder | didn't recognize
him. Six years ago babe Ned Pierce
goodbye on the deck of an outgoing
Cunarder. Left an orphan with a large
estate. he was naturally inclined to
take life easy, and when | said fare
well he was starting on his first trip
across the water, while turned back to
my business in the crowded streets of
the great city. During these six years
| had lost all track of him, and indeed,
had not thought of him for some time.
/ had been quite prosperous in my un-
dertakingS, and was now manager Of
the Paris branch of our banking house,
with moderate fortune laid by for the
traditional rainy day"
As we arrived at our destination Ned
expressed IA decided approval of my
apartments, with repeated words of adj
miration. YES" acqHiesced, lit is
very comfortable here" g
fIlave you any en gagement for this
EVENING"" he asked as we arose from
the dinner-table.
''Nothing imperative"
Then come with me-" 9a
"lVhere. M Jsa f.I
40 the opera" alrt
had no objections. and ut once
agreed to it, although cared enough to
inquire what was to be sung that even.
ing. aa0 Is h.as .|ti0.s54
"You asked me on our way home
what | had been doing with myself for
the last six years" he said Come
with me tonight, and after the opera |
will tell you my story"
We went. found that lie had a box
already engaged, and the usher led the
way to it, at the right hand of the stage,
when he retired as silently as he
came.
1t was the familiar opera of "La Ira
yiata," sung by moderately fair COM
pany. and had been alone | probably
should have noticed nothing particu-
larry striking about any of the singers.
AS it was, no sooner had 'Violetta"
made her appearance than 1 was at
tracted by the strange behavior of my
companion.
''See, there she ISL he whispered, as
he caught my arm with vise-like
grip; 90 iI[.i Csla an.. basit asa
well. What of it? Let go my arm"
scrutinized closely this apparently
wonderful prima donna. and. by the aid
of my powerful opera-glasses, noted
minutely her personal appearance. A
tall, graceful blonde, with large eyes
like two purple pansies. and her own
fluffy. golden-brown hair, almost dark,
of the most beautiful Shade ever saw.
Her cream-white complexion was par
TALLY discernible through all the paint
and powder. while her form was the
embodiment of grace. She possessed
magnificent voice of great range and
fiexibility. and kept the entire audience
as well as Ned, under her complete
sway.
The dying woman had finally sank
back gracefully amid the watery EN-
dearments. and the curtain descended
to slow music on the last act, when
Ned leaned back in his chair with what
sounded to me like half-sigh, while
an unnatural flush burned in his cheeks.
and his eyes glowed as with an inward
fire. Little lad been said during tile
progress of the opera, and lie was
strangely taciturn all the way home,
seeming entirely preoccupied with
thoughts altogether foreign to the sur