Barbour County index. [volume] (Medicine Lodge, Kan.) 1880-current, 1890-02-26
A MODERN MARTYR.
An Enoch Arden Who Game Not
A Pathetic Little Sketch.

twenty-five years ago, when was q
theatrical agent tit was an eminent
manager who spoke), saw many an odd
and interesting bit of life. / was a
pretty close sailor to the wind in those
days, and sought humble lodgings
wherein to rest myself when the busi-
ness OF the day was over, beca use my
purse could pay for no other.
AS l was busy at the theater much of
the time night and day, i always hunted
up lodging as near it as could, and
sometimes l found myself under strange
roofs, undergoing queer experiences.
In the winter of "a the star whose
performances 1 arranged for was to play
at the Arch Street Theater, in Philadel-
phia, then under the management OF
Mrs. John Drew. As usual, / went
knocking about in the near neighbor-
hood of the theater, looking for cheap
lodgings. 1t was dark when began NV
search, and l could but dimly see the
little white cards on the walls announc-
ing that furnished rooms could be OBJ
tanned within
L looked at room after room, but all
were beyond my means, even in the
humble quarters in which ventured to
search. At last, feeling unusually tired,
and little discouraged, saw a card on
plain little frame house which prom
1sed, from its appearance, a scale
OF prices low enough to satisfy nv
attenuated purse. 1t was a very
plain little place, indeed, yet it had
about it nothing which suggested that
its people belonged to the low classes,
On the contrary, a certain daintiness sat
upon it and almost overcame the dismal
signs OF poverty which hung about it.
There is such thing as noble poverty,
and saw it for the first in that house.
rang the bell, and remember to this
day how its loud tinkling startled me,
80 near was 1t to the outer door and so
silent the house. You know how lang
ling and pervasive is the noise made by
cheap door-bell.
1t was quite dark by this time, and as
1 stood on the narrow little step I won
dered If the house was not, after all,
tenantless. After few moments the
door opened as noiselessly as doors al
ways open in blood-curdling stories, and
there stood before me a woman-surely
the whitest-faced and most worn-spirited
glance, the oldest For few seconds 1
forgot the object of my call, so strange
ly did she affect me.
Well, engaged room in her house
and took possession of it at once. Pow
erty had marked every thing for its own
within those walls, but it was not pow
erty of the repelent order. 1t was
even attractive and commanded ones
instant respect, for over it cleanliness
and daintiness had spread their refining
mantles so that its terrors were put out
of sight.
l saw my hostess but seldom. She
moved about the house more like a
spirit than a human being, and of after
moons and nights sat sewing, sewing,
necessarily sewing, in the little sitting
room on the first floor. Beside myself.
she was the only inmate of the house.
AS began to notice her more 1 saw
that the appearance of age which had
struck me so forcibly at first sight, was
but an appearance. There was some
thing about it not real. If you can inn
agine any one who is old, and vet not
old, you will know what mean when I
say that her age was not real can't
explain it, but l understand it. Saw
you knew woman who was but twenty.
and in one night some awful thing
would sweep over her soul which would
make her appear sixty. You would
know, then, that her apparent age was
unreal wouldn't you? Well, it was
so with my hostess. She was like one
who had been suddenly stricken, and
had not grown old with years 1t was
after all, but the external appearance of
age that enveloped her like a garment
Of sorrow which covered and smothered
youth.
She was always in the sitting-room
when came home after the theater,
sewing, sewing as all women sew who
have no other weapon with which to
fight the wolf than a needle. Some
times she asked me to sit down a few
minutes and talk, and found her intel
ligent and interesting in conversation,
though her grave, serious manner never
changed to animation.
My star was playing ''Enoch Arden"
and gave my hostess tickets to the
play. She went. When returned
from the theater that night she was in
the sitting-room as usual, though not
sewing, and she asked me to cpne in.
Il want to talk to you," she said in
broken tones, and there was a strange
light in her eyes and an eagerness in
her face quite unusual,
She sat by table on which a lamp
! was feebly burning. The wrap she had
worn to the play hung over the back of
her chair, and her bonnet had been
hastily taken of, leaving her snow
white hair slightly disarranged.
Il have been to the play" she said,
fastening her eyes upon me with an in
tensity of gaze that made me uncom-
Portable.
"Ah! I hope you enjoyed it,r was
my response, trying my best to get rid
OF the burning of those sad eyes Of hers.
She said not word, but sat and
looked at me in that fixed, inexplicable
way for several minutes
DO those things ever happen?" sha
said at last, her eyes almost burning
holes in me. As had 40 idea Of what
things" she referred to, / managed to
say that did not understand her mean
ing.
Why, events like those Of this play"
she said, too excited to be entirely coz
herent do husbands come back to