News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1890-04-10
HIS LAST CALL.
from a Story In Chatter.l

from Story in Chatter.l
IT'S tho old, old story. GA titled
scoundrel, who, With his 1attery and
false VOWS, won the poor girls heart
She was a bright little creature" he
continued, fsof just Is summers, and
Stevenson, poor fellow, was wrapped
up in her, heart and soul; he lived
only in the atmosphere she breathed.
1t was the latter part of last season ;
she had just returned from school.
How she became acquainted with this
man l scarcely know, but one night
Stevenson returned home to find his
daughter had fled. In her rooEl he
found a note she had left imploring
forgiveness, and in his own room
think of it, Austin-a purse of gold
from the scoundrel who had robbed
him of his daughter. Gold! gold to
pay the father for the loss OF his child.
thought the blow would have killed
poor Stevenson, but we pulled him
through it. Since then he has been a
brokcn-hearted man. When we heard
the sad news, / Immediately sought
him out TO try and console him as best
/ could. Poor fellow, shall never
forget his words to mo as long as
live. She was my all, Wilkins he
said, with tho tears rolling down his
haggard face; my own little bright
eyed darling. Thank Godl' he ex
claimed, in burst of agony, 'her poor
mother has not lived to see this day.
Gone, gone he moaned, piteously."
We walked on towards poor Steven
sons lodgings 10 gloomy silence. AT
last yentured to say, "Has anything
ever been heard of her SINGER"
"No, tits now twelve months since
her flight, and no word has ever
reached the broken-hearted father,
who mourns her as one dead"
We arrived at the lodgings and were
shown into Stevenson's room; he
looked more dead than alive. / never
saw such an alteration in a man in so
short time. lie was ghost of his
former self. He raised himself in
bed as we entered, and tried to smi.c
"a faint, broken-hearted smile.
elbow is it with you this morning?"
l asked.
"Better, somewhat he replied; 81
think l might manage to get through
tonight, Wilkins" said he, addressing
him; "you can read for me at re-
hearsal this morning. know you are
anxious for the success of the piece,
and l should not like to disappoint
YOU"
wilkins explained to him he had a
London manager coming down 10
witness the production, and after ascer-
tanning we could do nothing for him,
and promising to call with q cab to
take him to the theatre at night, we
departed for rehearsal.
"By Jove, what o house, wilkins,
old fellow" 1 exclaimed as I de-
scended from my dressing-room and
met him on the stage; F." You've beaten |
us ALL"
walked to the prompt entrance, and |
peered through the curtain. The band |
was playing loudly, but the impotence
of the audience conld be heard above |
it. The house was crammed from |
floor to ceiling. never saw it so full. |
The stalls seemed a mass of shirt |
fronts; circle, pit, gallery, every avail
able space was occupied. "Overture,
beginners, Please" echoed from door
to door of the dressing-rooms. The
orchestra ceased playing. wilkins
could be heard exclaiming, "Clear,
please up went the curtain, and the
play began.
The first act was over, and the audi
encc, breaking from the spell which
had held them, were giving vent TO
their enthusiasm.
The second act was on, and pl 'yed
with even more effect and applause
than the previous one; at its close the
London manager came behind delight
ed.
'1f the last act only equals the first
two" he exclaimed to Wilkins exited- !
ly, E'there's a fortune in it."
Last act, Beginner, please" the |
call-boy was shouting, when l observed |
the doorkeeper approach Wilkins
cautiously, and whisper something in
his car"
"Great Heavens, you don't mean
that?' heard wilkins say.
81 do, sir, every word of it, and it's
as sure as my name is Bob Roberts,"
replied the man, and they both walked |
rapidly towards the stage door.
l followed, and was about to enter
the doorkeeper's office, when Wilkins
stopped my further progress.
"What on earth is the matter?" |
said. "You look as scared as if you'd
seen a ghost"
" So l have seen a ghost or what is
worse to me now, poor Stevenson's
who has returned to her
ia her with her newly born babe dead
in her arms, from exposure and starva-
ton"
''Dcad," calculated.
"If her father sees her now" con-
.inued Wilkins, "my play is ruined,
for he will never be able to get through
the last act"
"Mr. wilkins, said the call-boy now
"we are waiting TO ring
up" /.
Poor Wilkins looked as if he had
just signed his own death warrant.
"You had better keep the girl away
from her father till the play is fin
ished," | said.
"Look here, Austin" said wilkins,
his face Frightening up suddenly, 81
have plan in my mind, which, if it
succeeds, will make the fortune of my
play"
Before l could speak the man was
gone, and the curtain rose on the last
act. The final scene of the play had
and was standing at The
entrance ready to go Oh, when | OBJ
served wilkins, with poor Stevenson's
daughter leaning OH him for ,uppo: t,
coming towards me. {
ain heavens name, why do YOU
bring the roor girl here" / exclaimed,
lngrily.
ats all right, AUSTIN" said he;
cher father is on the stage and won't
zee Ter till she goes on"
"Goes onl what do you mean?''
al mean that instead of the leading
ady Miss Webster) going Oh to ask j
ler fathers forgiveness, shall send s
Stevenson his own daughter. Nature {
will speak better than the best acting !
N the world, and it will be q grand eli ]
L. L. } 1