The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1894-02-18
rmlv 10 her entrance door. @Her cue came

firmly TO her entrance door. e Her cue came
and she took ND her part WI such CON-
centraied force and self-poSSession that
those who sat in front maryeled. No sign
of nervousness, no faltering of attack, no
ouaver in the melodious voice. The other
players seemed like novlces around her
She alone held every eye; the play was in
the hollow of her hand.
Poor Mark struggled painfully to act the
part of her lover. He scarcely seemed to
know what be WAS saying or doing. He
failed. failed. failed, while scene by scene,
his wife's triumph grew greater. But at
each tumultuous call she made him appear
with her before the curtain. and plaudts
were showered equally upon them both
On one occasion a magnificent wreath of
choice flowers were handed up to him for
Esther. 1t was from Annesiey, and Mark
perfunctorily delivered il. Esther took
the wreath and hung it about her hus-
bands neck The action was graceful and
tender and made great Impression upon
the audience-such an impression as
Titapia makes when decorating the weaver
in the moon-lighted midsummer wood.
And now they were come to the last act;
for the play all had gone well so far. Ii
had been graudlv acted with the exception
of the performance given by Mark himself,
and that weakness evoked more pity than
resentment.
Mark was standing apart contemplating
Stage death was to be enacted. As Esther
approached him he tried to conceal it from
her. but her soft hand drew il from his
grasp. It was no property dagger this.
He watched her eyes CLEAN upon the bright
trenchant steel, and shrank before her as
! she glanced from the knife into his face.
But be looked up In amaZement when she
! WHISPERED tenderly:
'God bless YOU, Mark. MY dear love!
! know how you thought OF finishing the play,
but have a better ending than that-much
/ better"
| II must keep my word.' came from
! Marks white lips. He spoke confusedly,
| like one in dream.
Yes" she replied, you shall keep your
word"
He was stupefed Could she know the
purport of what she was saying.
MARX, darling. we Will use this dagger
! instead of yOurs."
At each end of the weapon she drew from
/ the folds of her robe cleaned blade as
menacing as that which she now flung
away.
Marks face ligh ted up, and he laughed
Insancly as he caught her to his breast.
"a better ending than Miner he owned
enthusiastically. "Our scene will be a great
sucress"
at will be a triumph" she declared.
| Fold me in your arms just so, aud they
| will say no one can ever act death better
/ than we have done. There is the cue.
! Come, Mark, we will play our last scene
/ together"
The curtain has fallen. The audience
! has recognized in that last scene the con-
! summation of tragic art. Mark had risen
almost to his wlfe's level. His mind and
heart we're concentrated in his work, and
! his personality was exalted. inspired.
The managers are aghast as having neg
leeted such artists. The people are ON
/ their feet, rapturously calling for the hero
ard the heroine of the afternoon.
| But there is no response.
| The elamor increases, and at last the
| stage manager, pale and frightened look
| Ing, comes forward TO say there has been
| an accident. He begs the audience to go
/ quietly away.
What has happened? Guy Annesley goes
! with quick nervous strides through the
| little door on the stage.
Mark Ingoldsby lies dead upon his back,
| with arms outstre tched and eyes glazing
over. Across his breast lies tue motion
| less form OF his wife. and stream of
| blood is running down to the footignls
Already 1t has passed beneath the curtain
10 tell why the author has not responded
to his CALL
IAN accident" remarks The patron
coolly. Her husband has hurt himself
and she has swOOned away. Poor thing!
Poor thingi"
He kneels 10 unloosen the fair arms that
seem TO cling so tightly. Her clasp of her
husbands corpse is loose and limp. His
pulses beat passionately as he lifts her
away.
A tall. strong man is Guy Annesley, and
Esther's weight is little enough, yet when
he holds her 10 his heart he staggers and
nearly falls, surrendering her hastily 10
those who stand closest by.
The burden TOO great for his strength Is
a weight OF horrOr-Of remOrse
Forth from her faithful bosom gushes
the warm life-fountain, and it is seen that
the poniard tranSfxing her husbands
haart has an outstanding blade which has
simultaneously struck deep into her own.
In all future years Guy Annesey will
remember the passion of the lovers' EN-
brace, and with what sincerity Mark and
Esther lngodsby played their last scene
together.-Leonard Outram in Black and
White.