Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-03-02
CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XII.
When Elaine We're laid the finished let
ter on the table of her little parlOr. she be-
heyed that it would certainly reach its
destination in. a short time. But such
was not the case. She had proposed
studying while and then attending a
short rehearsal just previous to the even
lng's entertainment, called rather sudden
~ by the illness and consequent absence
Of one of the actors, whose place was to
be filled at short notice by u stranger.
After this she expected to return to her
room, take her tea, and 90 back to the
theatre, posting the letter by the way.
This easy programme was never carried
out. Something pathetlcally looked for
by the poor girl, but totally unexpected
by her acquaintance, occurred, which
caused the letter to be forgotten for a
while.
In the midst of an animated scene,
where the lie and YiYacity which had al
ways distinguished the actress were as
appa rent and is eHectual as ever, she
had suddenly pressed her two hands with
a frightened gesture to her lips and taken
them away covered with blood. A rather
severe hemOrrhage OF the lungs had re-
suited at last after many days of tighten
ing pain and anxious fOreb0dings, pain
of which no one knew but herself, and
fOrebOdings with which she was too proud
to trouble her s0-called friends.
There is no class of people on earth, let
moralists say and write what they please
to the contrary, whose sympathies are so
easily stirred as the apparently careless
Bohemians of the board. Elaine fell into
the hands Of good Samaritans. Very
tenderly they carried her TO the place she
| had called home, and generously, with the
generosity born Of selt-sacritice, did they
nurse her in the suffering illness which
followed.
Conspicuous among these was a coarse
young girl Of much ambition, little talent,
and most undisciplined temper, who,
for very envy, had before been Elaine's
implacable enemy. She coveted at first
her rivals winning grace and lady-like
manne" and appearance; later, her little
successes. Nor had she failed to give
every unpleasant token of this feeling:
but Elaine, no longer brilliant with stage
beauty and flushed with applause, was
sick, stricken down before her very eyes,
and the good angel, which struggles in all
human hearts, would be needed. The
sneering actress became a woman, and
leaning tenderly over the fainting girl took
her into her strong arms, and became a
faithful and most efficient nurse.
To sift the gold, the few precious
grains from the heavy crusts of drOss in
which it is often hidden, is almost too
nice an operation for many of us; poor,
shOrt-sighted creatures! our eyes not al
ways strong enough to see them, our
hearts fail to put faith in their possible
existence, and we pass them by unheed-
ed. Happily the Eye of OmnipOtence
sees what is hidden in human hearts, as
well as the pearls imbedded in the coarse
clay OF ocean depths, and in the end will
separate them with infinite grace.
For many days Elaine We're lay weak
ana helpless on her bed, not suffering at
all, but lacking not only the strength but
the Will to rise. Nothing Of her history
was known to those who watched by her
side. She had come to them seeking en-
plOyment. Her grace and fitness every
way had won over the manager. She had
been employed, and no questions had
been asked. All this mattered little in
the gay circle she had joined. Little they
cared for antecedents. Elaine We're was
one of them, OF course, poor, friendless,
and incOnsequent as were the rest.
She had been successful and they were
rather proud of her. Now she is suffering
and they pity her. To each one she be-
came sister and responsibility; and
she suffered no lack. But the girl her
self, lying so frail and tired on her bed.
knew more, and often in The lung winter
nights she would lie awake and think OF
certain fateiul facts about herself. First,
6nG AcAltllbELGu lildI DOIu neE young
mother and her father had died of con-
sumption, ayel even OF this very form of
it-hemOrrhage of the lungs. Then she
also knew that this was not the first time
she had fallen, stricken by pain and fear. in
the midst of her work. Two years before
she had been taken with fortunate COM
pany across the Atlantic on a professional
engagement. Elaine had never been,
would never be a star in the theatrical
armament, but her piquant and graceful
rendering of her incOnsiderable role made
her an admirable support of first rate
talent. Consequently it had been thought
a proper investment to take her to Eng
land.
Here the company failed to compass
their great designs. They only stayed
few months in London, on the continent
while, disbanded and came home, all
rather the worse for their short esca-
pade.
1t was on this trip whilst performing
before large audience that Elaine had
first been attacked with hemOrrhage. 1t
was not severe at all, but the suddenness
of the attack and the embarrassment of
the situation overwhelmed her so COM
pletely that she had tainted on the stage,
1een carried out uncoE,@Selous' az" n"u
suffered only few days sickness In con-
sequence. Such a small matter as an ac-
LTGSS uaNluR IdluLGU ulduC OnlJ "a ulOLltn-
tary sensation, and the play, with some
clever alterations, went on successfully.
Elaine got well and went to work with
her naturally good spirits little impaired;
bat, deep in her reticent heart, she car
ried sad little secret of her own. The
old physician, who had attended her, had
said very gravely: MY dear child. you
are by no means strong; you cannot be
too careful of your health. Have you pull
monary disease in your familyF'
''BOth parents have died OF it," she
said, recklessly.
"Ihen you must leave the stage now if
you care to live"
Il don't care much about it," she said.
But the love of life is strong in all of
us. and it was not until later, when
hard world had embittered her, that she
really meant what she had said to her
kind physician.
Very early after this last attack her i'll
ness became known to Albert Beltham.
Now this strong and robust gentleman
hated sickness in its every shape and
form. 1t bored him as perhaps no other
thing could. 1t seemed such an unneces-
sary evil. He was never ill; why should
others be? They violated certain laws of
health which they had no business to do,
and they paid the very unpleasant pen
atty. Now this was, of course. nothing
more than a just TetributiOn. But it be-
comes a bore to their friends; it inter-
rupts the course of events; it forces UNI
pleasant facts, suggestive facts on healthy
minds; il Is often the dreary prelude to
that shocking human trial called death.
Even in Its milder form it is temporary
death to beauty and freedom OF move
ment In a word it is a bore, misera-
BILE. VeXing bore. So he had often thought
of this hard birthright of fallen humane
ty. He knew Elaine we'll; knew she was
as frail and delicate as she could well be.
But the brave girl had never troubled him
with her suffering, and, so far from be-
ing disfgured by them, her delicate con-
dition seemed often to enhance the lustre
of her brilliant eyes and the coral redness
of her lips. Still he thought she would
probably not be long lived, and he did
not fret much at the idea. This illness,
then, he had heard of, and kept himself
purpOsely alOOf from its unpleasantnesses.
But little remnant, Of what was once a
conscience, stirred within him once or
twice during the fall and early winter,
which, growing at last annoying, he APP
peased one day by sending to the sick girl
the following note;
"MY SWEET ELAINE-What has be-
come of your Are you sick that |
never see YOU at the theatre? | have
been much away, and know little that
transpires in B. l enclose bill,
fearing you may need it. Always your
truest friend. A. b."