Los Angeles herald., 1892-04-13
HIS CHANCE AT LAST.


unlike! In appearance there was every
thing to lead one to see that they could
both lay claim to the same birthday;
their faces were identical, their figures
the same. Fortune, however, had placed
them in totally distinct channels. Their
mother in her day (for she had been dead
these twenty years. was an actress of
rare ability, and people had crowded the
theaters night after night to follow her
impressive acting.
Both her sons had inherited her tai
ents in no small measure, and two years
previous to her death they had launched
out in their first struggle to win fresh
laurels for the name around which all
that was gifted had gathered Talents,
alas! may live and shine, yet they may
live and scarcely flicker. Today these
two men were brothers only in name
The gifts of the one had been recognized
by a tickle public, the abilities of the
other never even had thought.
Clement Walford! His name was on
everybody's lips. The critics gave him
columns in the papers, theatrical man
ayers almost knelt at his feet and paid
eagerly the money he demanded to Sc
cure his services; society held open its
doors, and the great actor entered at his
ease. And Henry? A struggler-noth-
ing more; a disappointed struggler.
Clever, but unknown; gifted, but I'M
heard of. His brothers success may
have cut him, but it never discouraged
him. He labored on, still hopeful
While the popular man was rich in
London, the other was lowering on the
very edges of poverty. There were
times when he had been forced to write
to his brother letter asking for help,
but no reply ever came. The poor mans
wife had even knocked at the great
actors door, but the response from a
servants lips was that "Mr. Walford
: was engaged"
Aid SO the brothers lived. The one
utterly oblivious to the ties of relation
ship, the other hoping for recognition
and reconciliation at last. Clement Wal
ford's triumph was ut hand. Hitherto
Shakespeare's characters had with him
remained untouched, but paragraphs in
the newspapers had just appeared an
nouncing the fact that it was his inten-
tion to appear at an early date as
Hamlet. Everybody, from manager to
public, was sanguine of a great success;
it was the topic of the clubs, the conver-
sation of the critics. Clement Walford
himself felt inwardly comfortable and
satisfied that failure with him could
never be. Success! Success! Success!
He harped on that word at night, saw
the dream of his life realized as he
walked the streets to rehearsal and
heard the enthusiasm of the people, and
watched them clamoring there, even in
the empty theater, as scene by scene was
gone through at rehearsal on the stage.
In all this he was alone with himself.
He thought of Clement Walford and Of
him alone. A brother! He had none.
The other had had the same chances
why did he not take them? If a man,
even his own flesh and blood, snapped
his fingers at his opportunities, was it
for him to put them in his grasp?
The night drew near. The day before
the performance had arrived and the
last rehearsal had been held. Clement
Walford returned to his rooms. He
stood before the gilded mantelpiece and
looked into the glass. He started back!
He felt giddy. Again he looked into
the mirror with straining eye. He had
never seen such deathly pallor on his
face before. He smiled at his foolish
ness. He attempted to reach a chair,
but found his feet would scarcely carry
him. Make what effort he might his
head was dropping on to his breast; he
felt his hands trembling and looked at
them to see if it was true.
Observation-Disclosures - ner-
vousness-overdoing it," he cried; "a
drink of water-brandy-will set me
right. Where's the bellrope? All! there
it is," and crawling toward the cord,
across the room, he just managed to
reach it when he fell to the ground.
When he awoke he lay in bed, the doc
tor standing by. He lifted his eyes to-
ward those of the doctor.
"Why-why am I here? How long
have I been here? Is this-is this the
first nightw he asked.
"You have been here for few hours,
that is ALL" was the doctors reply. ellie
quite still-keep your hands in bed,
now"
"Thank God! Thank God" the man
said. 81 was afraid it was the first night
What's the matter with me? What's the
matter with me? Why don't you an
swer? DON'T look at me like that; an
swer mer'
"You have been doing too much late
ly; you are not strong"
"Not strong!'
"And nothing but perfect rest will
bring you around again." the doctor
said. 'You have"--
"What? what? Tell me quickly!'
"You have broken blood vesselw
The man looked at the doctor for a
moment Then he rose in his bed. His
voice was scarcely discernible; it was
cold and harsh; it was not the voice Of
q man whose tone had fascinated all its
hearers. He looked the medical man
wildly in the face. He asked quietly at
first:
'sDo you know what tomorrow night
is? No; Of course you don't. But I do.
It is the first night of Hamlet and
shall be there-there, with the house be-
fore me, hanging on every word utter.
Do you think this bed will hold me from
my triumph, do you think you, or the
warning of any man, will prevent me