The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1890-02-07
CHAPTER ".

Ten years later. 1t is evening. Jacob is
sitting with his head bowed in his hands
alone in his home in Charles street, New
York. Suddenly knock comes at the door,
He springs to open it.
'Father! l knew you'd come! knew
you'd come. Oh, father, father, father!n
sobbed out the strong young fellow, broken
ly.
"My boy-my boy, 1 coined as soon as
gotyour letter. Has-hasn'tsh she come back?"
"Back!' flashed Jacob, 'sno! wouldn't
mind so mucL if it wasn't for our little
Alice. She's left her, father-our little
chlldl Ohr' groaned the young fellow,
pacing the room in his agony, "oh, that
never had seen her! Oh, that
'Stop, Jacob! Don't say that. Sheis vour
wife, and your childs mother, and alters that,
is something to remember Tell me, - he said
laying down his old fashioned carpet sack
on chair, and taking off his hat, "tell me-
how long sence she left ye?'
Two weeks yesterday" groaned Jacob
"She's pretty, ye say?"
eyes" gritted Jacob through his teeth,
''as flower. But, OH what was the use
of my bringing you here, father. | was
selfish fool. Such journey-you are
tired, take off your coat-let me-ohi I am
mad, l think" throwing himself into a
char, and shaking with dry sobs.
"Where is shea" said Uncle Aaron,
"At the Bowery Theater."
'Actin'"
Eyes"
"What does she call herselfr'
"RoSe Clark"
'And-if l go there now I would find
her:" said the old man, slowly.
'You, father!" cried Jacob, jumping up;
"no, you mustn't go there; no, nor'
my lad" said his father deliberately,
picking up his hat, "I'm a-goin'. I'll find
the place, never fear; and I'll find herr
"But she will laugh in your face, father;
you don't know her. She has no more soul
than doll. No, you mustn't go there to be
laughed at by that crew"
"Im a-goin'," said Uncle Aaron, simplv.
"wait here for me, lad," and putting on his
hat, he went out In extremity any straw
seems plank. Jacob, overwhelmed by his
agony, let him go.
Uncle Aaron, with his straightforward
directness, found the place he was in search
of with qulckness to one strange to the
city, and was soon in front of the box-office,
II want ticket he said.
'The gallery's good place for seeing"
said the ticket agent, glancing knowingly at
his country clothes.
"No," said Uncle Aaron, simply; 81 want
a good seat"
"Oh," smiled the man, ''one dollar and
fifty cents, then, passing out check
Uncle Aaron paid his money, took the
ticket, and for the first time in his life was
in theater. He took his seat, took up
the programme and waited. No one of that
crowded house dreamed of the tragic errand
that brought that old man there. With
difficulty he spelled out the names of the
cast Edith, daughter of the Squire-Rose
Clark" he read. "That's her, must wait"
In the course of time she came upon the
stage-Rose Clark. The old man drew his
breath hard and looked at her. Yes, she
was charming, no doubt about that-and
charming not only on account of her pretty
face, but charming with bird-like sauci-
ness that was piquant to all her hearers.
The old man looked and listened, studying
her voice and tricks of gesture; and then,
with acunning very foreign to his nature,
made up his mind that he would win her over
by strategem. At the end of the first act he
turned to gentleman seated at his left and
asked: ''Can you tell me, sir, how body
could get to speak to one of them there,
afore they leave the theaterm
The young fellow stared, but answered:
"oh, yes; go to the green-room just before
the last act.n