Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1891-01-29
CHOICE OF AN ACTRESS.

man, she always expected to marry.
/ say expected, instead Of hoped, because
she had constantly too many admirers
to doubt her opportunities her mind
it was simply a question of meeting the
right one.
She felt sure that when the right man
came she would be willing to give up
everything for him; indeed, she contem-
plated with a certain serene satisfaction
the coming of a time when her triurnphs
and ambitions and fame and freedom
would be exchanged for the proud seryi-
tude Of wifehood.
Still she wasn't in hurry to meet the
right man. He would come when he
did come and when he did come it
couldn't be helped, and she would be
glad: Upon various occasions she had
thought him come
Upon these occasions she had expert
enced a distinct sensation Of fretfulness.
She had conscientiously given the ad-
mirer fair chance to prove himself the
right man, but had always been down.
right glad when he had failed to do 50.
The admirer always made some mistake
fatal to his interests.
Perhaps he lost his head, and went
down on his knees; that always immedi-
ately settled it. She was much too proud
and too humble woman to be willing
to marry a man who went down on his
knees about it.
Or he lost his head, and threatened to
shoot himself, or drink himself to death,
or jump in the bay.
Now and then she was moved with re-
gret at the storm which she had raised,
and expostulated in kindly fashion
with her victim, but more often she
shrugged her white shoulders, saying, if
not to the man, at least to herself, that
the man who was foolish enough to want
to shoot himself because a woman did
not love him, had better shoot himself.
Some men were doggedly meek-of
these she was bit afraid-yet SO far
these meek, dogged wooers had presently
developed into bores. which, she felt,
lessened the danger. l say danger, be-
cause she regarded the possibility of
marrying any man but the right man a
danger.
Sooner or later, in the course Of every
admirers attention she made a stanch
effort to dismiss or escape him.
She argued to herself that escape from
the right man would be impossible, and
that escape from any other was to be re-
garded as wisdom, and hailed as good
fortune
She never went out Of her way to at
tract men-in the first place she had no
need to, and besides she really did not
care to increase the chances of coming
across this more or less to be dreaded
right man.
She kept pretty closely to her work,
enjoyed the footlights, spent her money
freely, rejoiced in her independence. and
thought herself a lucky girl.
OF course she had admirers. She con-
sidered that natural result Of her posi-
ton, profession, sex and attractions.
She permitted men who loved her Ger
tain privileges they might kiss her
hand, come to the theatre and see her
play, and give her flowers and feel mis-
cradle about her.
Any one of them, she realized, might
develop into the right man, so she treat
ed them all eenscientiously. She never
misled them or led them on, and since
she was frank with them and never dis
courteous, she felt she had a right to be
exacting about their manners. and she
always was.
Upon the three. or four occasions when
a mans devotion had stirred in her
certain degree Of interest she had rigidly
demanded time to find out and to make
up her mind.
To find out meant 70 satisfy herself
that the man IN question and the fright
man. were Of ono ''identity." To make
up her mind meant to decide whether,
right man or not, she would have himi
The candidate having always failed to
stand this test, she had, directly she was
so assured, dismissed him promptly and
gently.
By what subtle sign Of authority she
would recognize the right man she did
not know. He would be big, she was
sure. of that, and very gentle; he would
meet her mentally, understand her,
satisfy her morally and tenderly, master
her physically.
He would be above all her little arts
and caprices, but he would admire them:
he would be too dignifed to 60 down on
his knees from not being able TO help it,
yet quite fond enough of her to do it.
For her part, she would never wish it,
and she would be very meek and gentle
and obedient, and glad to be so; but
but, meanwhile she was free, and of that
she was glad, too.
Really, her life was delightful; she
lifted her white arms into her pretty
lace wrapper and laughed to herself as
she settled for her little rest before re-
firing. Her parlor was warm, and the
light softened BY colored shades; a bit of
sandalwood among the logs sent a spicy
fragrance out with the heat, she rubbed
her head among the cushions and laughed
again to herself
1t was Il notion Of her own. this half
hour rest before retiring. For the sake
Of it she usually came home at once from
the theatre.
Going out to suppers and sitting up
and drinking wine was stupid, besides
such course would soon spoil her good
looks. A warm, all-by-herself half hour
in her own pretty room, with the crack
ling of her fire for company and her milk
punch and biscuit for refreshment, were
much nicer.
1t was nice 10 feel that the comfort
around her was all of her own making,
and to know herself in the midst Of it
TO be very pretty and very sweet, and
alone, in spite of the ones she could
check off on her pink fingers as at that
very moment who were miserable for
sight of her.
AS rule, men had sought her out and
made themselves as charming as they
found possible and permitted; but Crag
Demmon attracted her.
He was big, undeniably Il gentleman,
and by nature apparently a savage. He
followed me- Right toward the blazing
line we ran.
.sAll at once l saw the colonel, who
was riding by me, grasp the colors, for
they were falling. I looked and saw
that my hand. my whole arm was gone,
and hadn't felt it. I grabbed the flag
in my left hand.
Il can carry the colors yet. colonel
| said i don't feel any pain.