Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1886-12-24
From a stage BOX.

]
dle-aged, discursive people, evidently
with many "reminiscences OF other R0meOs
and Juliets, cheerfully discOursing while
! their heads nodded. In the next box was
a silent party in the front OF the box sat
a beautiful Young woman, with her head
! leaning upon her hama. She was pale,
| dark barred; diamond star was flashing
In her thick plaits, and diamond was
twinklng at her throat, She was dressed
| in black velvet. A little white.m muslin
girl, with lovely brown eyes, sat beside
! her; middle-aged lady in lace cap,
and bald gentleman, with pair OF
opera glasses, made up the party. They
all looked on very intently, though they
! did not say much about it. The bald
gentleman was Dick Willoughby. the
| well-known theatrical critic OF the Daily
Harlequin. He had brought his wife and
her beautiful friend, Mrs. Baxter, and his
little niece to see the tragedy played.
r
This is the tag-end of a story. which all
happened years ago, only a little bit got
broken off, 80 TO speak, and was fastened
on again by chance on this particular
night. The hero and heroine of my little
story loved each other long ago tenderly,
passi0nately; then they quarreled, then
they made itup, and were married. He
Was Col. Baxter, a widower, when they
Felicia MarIowe by name.
1t was from Mrs. Willoughby l heard
the story. She is middie.aged woman
who has known good many people, and
| seen something of the world (Which
means seeing something more than peO-
pie sitting in rows in it9 and Felicia BaX-
ter and she were old friends. Mrs. Will
loughby had been at Felicia's wedding,
and admired--es who would not admire
the lovely young bride and the stately
| bridegroom, little thinking of the dismal
result of this white satin, organ strain
ing, promising, Yowing, bride-cake. and
congratulations.
One day she said to him:
You married me, but you never loved
me. Why did you come here TO disturb
| mei What was there to prevent you from
marrying some one else? If it was only
| my money you wanted, you might have
| had it for the asking"
Bakers dark face turned white.
II can't forgive this" he said. SIT is
no use Felicia; l must go away. You
can't say anything TO undo tnis. | have
felt it all coming for some time past. You
have insulted me, wounded me, humili-
ated me past my endurance
She ran out Of the room with pale
face and desperate eyes; spoiled, lonely,
inexperienced, she was not likely to
make allowance for another somewhat
spoiled child. She did not distinguish
between hot temper and GOODNESS OF
! heart.
And so it happened that the two parted.
| Col Baxter made some excuse to some
body-the butler. l believe-and went
away without seeing his wife again
| Felicia, as usual, staid on alone at Har-
pintOn. How often had she turned some
| page in her short life's history and begun
again TO live alone! She was, perhaps,
more forlorn now than she had ever been.
| People did not know her story for certain
! but they whispered it about and looked
at her pititully. She kept away, and
| could not face them.
1t was not till some weeks had passed
that Mrs. Willoughby brought her up to
London by main force.
1.-The poor little soul will 20 out of her
mind il she Is left to brood all by herself
in that dismal old place. Ibate that Col.
Baxter, Dick" said Mrs. Dick, empnat-
ically.
II saw him at the club the other day,
| looking uncommonly dismal" said Dick
WIllOughby. depend upon it, in nine
cases out OF ten it is the woman's fault
when people quarrel. You can give in
with grace, my dear; man can't with
out making a TOOL of nimself.'
Nonsense" cried Mrs. Wilioughby,
laughing; "you never appear to greater
| advantage than at such times, Dick.u
But the scene changes to the theatre
| once more, where they are all sitting in q
row IN their comfortable box and watch
ing the changing scenes. Meanwhile
people grew more and more interested !;
the storm of feeling upon the stage rises
| and engrostes the not unsympathetIc
audience; sorrows knell ia dining: GAL
liant Mercutio falls as bravely as he has
| lived; Romeo, driven to bay, is forced to
| revenge him; then comes the sentence
and the passionate parting scene betwee n
the ''hour's wife, and her banished
lover.
Little Margaret began to cry outright;
the tears dribbled down upon her blue
ribbons. Felicia never moved; she
seemed to turn pale, and more pale.
1t was at this moment that Mrs. Will
loughby, happening to look round, caught
a sight OF the occupant OF the opposite
box, who, forgetting his precautions, had
| leaned forward for minute; then ne
withdrew almost Immediately.
That black, set face, that ciose-crOpped
military head-surely she could not be
mistaken; she glanced at her friend anx-
iously, then she touched her husbands
hand to attract his attention.
"Dick," she whispered. ''do you see?o
"Yes; saw him come in" SAID Dick,
In a low voice. ''Don't look; you might
brighten HIM away"
Then the critic, who had TO write his
article, however much people were dis
tracted, went back to his notes again,
Little Margaret followed every word
with rapt attention; to her the play was
everything, and anything else nothing.
Mrs. Baxter, too, seemed to have found
some relief from the weight OF her prese I
troubles In Juliets pathetic words; the
color rose in her cheeks, her eyes bright
ened.
1t was not until the last scene that the
opposite curtain was pushed back, and
that Col. Baxter. seeing his wife's beau
titul sad face leaning forward, leaned for
ward too.
Who was it spoken Was 1T Shakespeare
who spoke In faithful, ever-enduring
wordsi Was 1t Baxter? Was 1t Felicia ?
son, my love! my wife," says Romeo.
Felicia looked up. Had some voice
calledf Perhaps she looked away because
she could not face it all; but from across
the great theatre she met the steady look
OF her husbands eyes; the two saw each
other. With faint Cry Felicia half
rose, and half mechanically put out her
arm as Juliet had done; then she turned
and caught at Mrs. WIlloughby's out
stretched hand.
"Dld you see himi Did you seep, she
said.
!