The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1889-09-13

Mamma, darling mamma, don't go
away and leave papa and me. Oh!
take us with you; we cannot be left
alone, we love you so dearly
AS she said this she chung round the
neck Of the mother who was going to
forsalle her, and the victory was won.
The curtain fell as Viola Desanges
threw off her heavy travelling cloak,
and sat down holding the tiny hand
in her own.
go to sleep, my baby; will stay
and take caro- of you Away"
Then the husband who has been
an unseen witness, comes forward
with his full forgiveness, and all ends
happily.
Wiseacres expressed doubts as to
the success of Passion Flowers" II
was too simple, too poetical, too SOM
Der; in fact, there was no end to the
charges brought against it. and Ho-
race Melton sometimes responded.
Not so Miss Desanges
II tell you / am sure of the YER
dict" she said to him again and
again. Il have never had part /
like SO well. AS to Sybil, she is
unique; that utter simplicity and that
face must take the audience by storm.
| know audiences SO we'll"
1t was gray, chilly October even
ing, and tall, distinguished looking
man was sitting alone in luxurious
room in Piccadilly writing rapidly.
He was pale and agitated, and his
hand trembled as he wrote. Hugh
Errington was rich, free and gifted,
yet he was most unhappy. The only
son of good patents, he had been
good man in spite of all temptations.
But then he had never known the
real force of temptation until he dis
covered that the passion against which
he had silently battled for years was
returned. He could scarcely remember
the time when he had not loved Viola
Desanges. but he was man of honor,
and he knew that she was married.
Latterly she had been more miserable
than usual, and then one memorable
night each had guessed the secret of
the other, and the knowledge had
brought bitter sweet rapture that
was moro like pain than gladness.
Viola was the stronger now, since
little golden haired teacher had
taught her sweet lessons of patience
and forgiveness. She was learning to
be brave in her resignation. But
Hugh ErringtoE had grown harder
and more reckless since he knew the
truth, and now, on the first night of
Passion Flowers"-ominous name
he was forgetting honor, forgetting
pride, and forsaking the right path.
In his hand he now held the seal
ed letter that implored Viola De-
sanges to leave London, to leave the
world with him. a bouquet lay be-
side him, and he carefully fastened
the note among the roses which con-
cealed it. Half an hour later he was
with two or three other men in a
small high box at the Parthenon. 1t
all seemed like confused, idle dream.
He bowed and smiled to his acquaint-
ances, and talked abstractedly to those
who were with him. This time to-
morrow his place would be vacant,
his story the talk of the town, and
honest men would have no part or lot
with him. The play proceeded, and,
as Viola Desanges had foreseen, it
was received with growing favor.
The critics agreed that She had
surpassed herself, and even Hugh
Errington was conscious of an mex
plicable change in her.
Little Sybils entrance reused him
from a reverie, and he followed her
every movement with fixed attention.
She brought back to his remembrance
picture that had hung over his bed
in the old hall when he was boy,
the picture of child angel with
white lily in its hand. He remember
cd how he liked to fancy it a guard
ian spirit when he fell asleep at night.
What had such thoughts as these to
do with the present? He had chosen;
it was too late. No, not yet too late.
The flowers lay beside him; Viola was
on the stage they were still apart;
the barrier was not broken, as it
should be broken before another day
dawned. He did not follow the action
of the play very closely, but its con-
struction was simple. Was it merely a
written especially for him9 you
say you will give me everything heart
can desire, but, Godfrey, if go away
with you, you can never give me back
a woman's greatest treasure, my good
NAME" With what thrilling express
sion Viola Desanges spoke these
words, and what depth of meaning
lay in her great wistful eyes!
There was not sound in the the
atre. The great actress had arisen to
an unimagined height of power, and
the audience was riveted. And the
child! When the flushed face on the
pillow was revealed by the lamp there
was a moisture in the eyes of many
but little used to feel emotions such as
these, and real tears fell on SYPHILIS
cheeks as Viola Desanges leant over
her. forgetting the artist in the woman.
And Hugh Errington2 Surely the
guardian spirit of his boyish dreams
stood before him in the guise of little
Sybil. Silently, earnestly, the great
battle between good and evil was be-
ing waged His friends had left him,
and he had no witness when he took
the bouquet and tore to fragments the
note that had lain. like serpent
among the blossoms.
He would leave England, but he
would leave it alone. He would not
| fan,,,t lnuinn woman 10 81, Co.. III