Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-08-18


clutched his chair with both hands He
belonged to him. He knew that as she
stood there she was thinking only of how
she appeared in his eyes. Had she not told
him how she should feel-how she only
wanted him to be proud of her? And there
she was eclipsing even his fairest memories
of her, looking divine, and the world afame
at her splendor.
The applause died gradually away. and
the play went on. Within five minutes the
audience began to doubt the actress. She
did not seem to be well enough acquainted
with her lines, and her acting consisted of
very little beyond the merely graceful
walk with which she had entered and the
pleasant music of her voice. At the end
of the first act the house remained silent
Deming stayed in his seat and studied the
manner of the audience. He heard man
behind him say that the actress had GER
tainly not done anything very remarkable
vet. An unpleasant dread took possession
of him, and he remembered the words that
Jack West had said to him four months
ago. Suppose she would indeed fail?
What could he say of her?
At the end of the second act hum of
disapproval was distinctly audible in the
house. Clarice had displayed most
ard the climax she became awkward and
at last lost control of herself entirely. Her
voice grew hard, her gestures stiff and
crude, and she ruined the scene by such
unnatural and amateurish action that the
audience groaned when the curtain fell.
She had already made an irretrievable
failure. She was bad actress.
Deming went into the lobby. Everyone
who spoke to him emphasized the disap-
pointment that they felt in the French star
Sulzenheim came up to him, has face COW
cred with perspiratlon, and grasped his
hand.
sis there any hope for her, Deming?" he
asked in an almost fearful voice. Deming
could not reply.
"Ah, save her, save her for my sake, !"
said Sulzenheim. "She's in for a month,
and I'll lose a fortune on her. Let her
down easy, my boy, if you love me-"
And the manager went bustling off to in
terview the other critics.
The verdict was general. On every side
Deming heard words of disappointment,
often OF disgust. The only mitigation was
the constant ejaculation: But isn't she
beautifulP'
He went back to his seat wondering if she
could be made success of on the score of
this beauty alone. But as the play went on
he was forced to believe that nothing could
save her. He marvelled at the possibility
of woman of her intense feeling and phys
ical charm being so utterly incompetent.
She ruined every familiar scene by her
weakness or her absurd over-acting, and
during the death scene her struggles with
the part were pitifnl to behold. Had the
audience been less refined and considerate
there would have been Kisses when the last
curtain fell; but, as it was, the people filed
silently out of the theater, half sympathiz-
ing with the poor woman for having made
such an exhibition of her shortcomings.
Deminp was dazed with anger and despair.
He rushed up to little fellow named Van
Erckstein, hack writer whom he knew.
told him he was taken suddenly i'll, and
asked him to review the actress and send
down his copy to the office. He could not
bring himself to blast the woman he loved,
as his duty demanded. But Van Erckstein
had an engagement within 10 minutes which
couldn't be broken. Deming gazed wildly
about for some way to escape the task that
confronted him, but to no purpose. The
audience faded away, and he soon found
himself standing alone on the steps of the
theater. He rushed into barroom near by
and drank glass nearly filled with whisky.
Then he hailed q cab, and ordered the
driver to take him to the news
paper office. Over the rough pave
ment he was jolted for some 20 minutes, the
lights dancing in his half-closed eyes, the
liquor he had drank creeping hotly into
his blood. He ran up the stairs of the
building and closed the door
behind him when he reached his private
office. He could hear the steady rumble
of the presses in the basement of the build
ing. The cry for copy" came down
the tubes from upstairs. He
dashed into his work as though he was mad
to free himself of it. For half hour his
pen scratched over the paper with scarcely
any cessation. At last he threw it down,
started to his feet. and pressed his hands
over his forehead, swaying to and fro. as
though he were in pain. Then he gathered
the sheets Of paper from his desk, opened
his Office door, and called, "Williep'
A small boy in his shirt sleeves came
running toward him. -
"Copy. Mr.. Deming?" he inquired, with
q bright smile.
"Yes, Willie, in hurry" replied Dem
ing. And then, as he went back to the
room:
"I'm even anxious now that it shouldn't
miss getting in"
He weat down to the cab and ordered the
driver to 90 to Clarice's hotel. As he en-
tered her parlor she flew across the floor and
flung her arms about his neck, crying, and
telling him that she had made failure,
and now he would not love her any more.
He sat down with her beside him, and at
tempted to quiet her by saying that she had
not failed, because the whole town had gone
mad over her loveliness. On the table was
an empty champagne bottle.
81 had it with my maid" she said, as
Deming's eyes fingered on it. 81 was so
nervous could not keep up. Ah, Jerome,
I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted
TO succeed only to make you love me more"
81 couldn't do that" he replied, fondly.
II dropped in only to say goodnight" and
with kiss he left her.
At 10 o'clock the next morning the cur
tains were unavailing in their efforts to keep
the broad light of the sun out of Clarice's
rooms. As the clock on the mantle tinkled
softly Deming appeared in one of the door
ways, and glanced anxiously about him. At
the table in the middle of the room sat
Clarice with her head bowed on her arms.
He advanced noiselessly toward her and
looked over her shoulder. His eye caught
the heading of the review he had written
the night before. She had surely read it,
and knew now what traitor he had been.
He stood motionless for a long time, and1
.hen put his hand on Clarice's shoulder.
DEAREST he said softly.
A scream rang through the rooms, and
Clarice stood before him with blazing eyes,
her teeth set like vice. Her face wassl
Iivid and her long, wildly-tossed hair gave
her the appearance of a fury. She glared
1t her lover like tigress, her breast heav-
ing violently, and fearful little cries, like |
!, dog in the leash will utter, escaped from
ner as she stood painting there Then she
.hrew herself headlong at Deming, and,
With frightful curses. tried to tear his face