The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1886-01-21


Blanche learned his name, and the
fact that he was a young leather mer-
chant. She couldn't help wonderin'
whether Lauriston had also found ou
who she was.
| III he had only been thrown in front
| of our house," she murmured to her
self, as she returned homeward, chow
wonderful that would have been !
should have watched over him and
taken care of him, and-oh, why can't
something happen in this dull old
world?" She promptly placed Lauris-
ton in state ofprolonged and danger
| GUS illness, with herself as nurse.
| Going out into one of her fathers
budding vineyards, she enacted ve-
hemently the scene of the accident.
| Lauriston being brought into the
house insensible. Afterward came the
| convalescGnce, and then at.moments
she transformed herself into Lauris-
ton, carrying on a pathetic dialogue
between himself and her. The last
scene in her improvised-d drama treated
of their first walk, when the hand
some invalid was able to go out. And
here occurred a most trying episode;
he began to make love to her!
| "Dear mel" exclaimed Blanche.
"What ami abr ut? This won't do at
all. But, anyway" she went on,
"I'am going to see what it's like, and
what l shall say" So she continued
the affair thro Ugh a highly impas-
stoned CONVEX sation, the result OF
which was that, in spite of his misery,
his Implications and promises, she
gave him no hope. "Our spheres are
different" she told him, 'and you
must leave me forever" Then she
was sorry she had done so, Her invis-
| ible admirer obediently left her with q
broken heart, and Blanche went in to
tea with q face SO tragic that her
| mother was alarmed.
In a few days Blanche made a pict-
uresque discovery. The willow sprig
which Lauriston had left in the ground
remained there, and it had taken root
.snd begun to sprout. The girl became
intensely interested. Every day she
watered it, and she made her father
put frame around it to protect it
against small boys and other noxious
animals. AS the sprig grew into sap
ling, something else which had taken
root-namely, resolve in Blanche's
mind-also grew. This resolve was that
she would become an actress. She had
never seen good performance, but
she had many ideas as to what it
ought to be like. She read all the
plays she could get hold of, and gave
renderings before spectral audience
in the garden with immense success.
By and by it happened that some rel
atives, removing to New York, invit-
ed her to make them visit.
"Why, my child" cried the matron-
ly cousin who received her on her ar
rival, chow you have grown, and how
large your eyes are! They seem to be
full of ideas about something. What
is it,"
The cousin was not long in finding
out, for Blanche went boldly to a
manager one day, and asked him to
employ her. 1t SO happened that
the manager, while struck with her
inexperience was also impressed with
her talant, and in spite of much oppo-
sition from her family she was put in
the way of learning the art for which
she was born.
Five years later, Lauriston going in
to one of the theaters with party of
friends, found a pleasant memory
blending with the scene on the stage.
What was it? He looked and looked
again; his thoughts went back to his
May-day ride on the Hudson banks
so long before, though he could not tell
why. All, yes; now he caught the as
ISOLATION! Surely the face of that
young actress was the same as the
face of the odd girl whom he had met
then near the landing albeit grown
maturer, more sweetly intelligent now.
AS she made her entrances and exits,
the old memory came and went in his
mind. She was playing under her own
name, which he had never quite for
gotten. Lauriston soon be-
came known as frequenter of the
Orbic Theater, where Miss Pomeroy
was regularly engaged; but he conided
to no one what the fascination was
that drew him. And there he sat many
nights in the stalls, seeing her in all her
parts, watching her grow in public
favor, and weaving sentimental rever-
les about her until he felt as fhe had
known her for a long time. As for
Blanche, she recognized him too. See
ing him there so often, she fell into the
way of playing her best for him; and
on the nights that he was not present
she found it hard to reach the highest
mark.
So the winter months passed by,
and this strange acquaintance of
theirs, so vivid in it's reality to both
of them, remained a perfectly silent
one, without a single sign that either
knew who the other was. Only at
intervals, among the many tributes of
admiration that came to her, baskets
of flowers were left at her rooms to
which no name was attached. She
felt sure, however, that they came
from him. Yet he never threw flow
ers to her at the theatre, although
others sometime did so, Blanche won
dered at this, but it also pleased her.
It seemed to mean that he would not
fling bouquets to her as o favor,
but preferred to send them
as gentle Offering. Neverthe-
less, his distant demeanor was annoy
ing, when so many other men were
glad enough to establish the slightest
acquaintance with her. She kept
them all at distance, but it was not
so pleasant to have Lauriston keeping
himself ct g. distance without her aid.
Perhaps her little fancy drama in the
vineyard had told the truth-that
their spheres were different.
She heard good deal about Lau-
riston from common friends, and
knew that he was considered an ex-
ceptionally fine fellow, somewhat criti-
cal and fastidious, and not disposed
to marry. And the more she rose in