The Bessemer indicator., 1894-05-19

brain and viii, and talent Into IL hs
hoped TO touch her. and TO win frona
! her ruby lips hope that in the futurt
she would be hiE 30 he had toiled
early and late, and - he wrote,
the part he intended playing tecams
SO familiar to him that tonight, with
the play finally completed, he knew
that he was letter-perfect and could
go upon the boards tomorrow il need
be in his new role.
, He stood before the freless CRATE,
with . hectic flush burning upon his
cheeks, and feverish sparkle In his
eyes, and felt neither cold nor hunger.
There were fecks of blood upon his
lips but he knew II not.
my darling" he murnured tenderly
my beautiful darling! Am worthy
of her?"
And Satan laughed as he listened.
The night for which he lonRed so
eagerly, feverishly, came at last. He
was to make his first appearance be.
fore the public in i real theater,' ;
and he was In nervous tremor. Miss
Vavasor was to appear in prosce niu II
box with several of her fashions BILE
friends, among them Lord Clarence
Montford, the English nobleman, "the
other one" He was Miss Vavasor.s
favored suitor, and to pique him she
had been kind to Cyril Keith. He was
really titled nobleman. To win q
title, Miss Vnvasor would have borne
any sorrow. descended to any humil-
ity. To that one glittering aim her
heart was anchored; to become Lady
Montford she would have sold her best
friend into bondage. She had lure d
Cyril Keith on, with the hope Of in
citing the nobleman to q proposal.
She had done her best Will she sue
ceedp
Tonight she was fair as q dream
woman, In her robe OF snowy silk
trimmed with gold, and white plush
opera-cloak. Her beautiful hair was
sparkling with diamonds; she was the
loveliest woman in the great thea eater,
which was literally packed until there
was not even standing room. The
story of the young writer had gotten
abroad in some way, and public inter
est was excited, public curiosity
aroused. The play began and pro-
gressed. Cyril Keith proved reve-
lation to even those who knew him
best. He was grand. Even the crit
les, who came to condemn, could not
refrain from admiration. The cur
tain was about to arise upon the last
act-the act in which the young poet
In the play was to be rewarded by the
hand OF the woman he loved so madly,
and for whose sake he had toiled and
striven. Just before the curtain rose,
note was handed to Cyril Keith. He
tore 1t open and read these words:
Dear Friend Cyril-I know you will be
good friends. have We not, So l make bold
to tell you that tonight have promises to
become the wife of Lord Clarence Montford.
Only think OF it-Lady Montfordl am sc
elsted. must toll some one. and SO 1 toll you
Congratulate me Your friend, MAupE I
Once, twice, three times the pale
lips read 1t over. the Precipitation
standing in drops upon his white
brow, his hands clinching the brutal
letter until he lost all power to feel.
Tho call to the stage sounded in his
cars; the audience must not be kept
waiting. Some one touched his arm.
'Good heavens! man, you are illH' a
voice said, which sounded far off like
distant thunder. But he drew away
from his interlocutor and passed out
upon the stage.
Slowly and falteringly he went
through the part, until he came to
where the hero tells the heroine of his
mighty love.
81 would have lain my life down for
you," SO ran the words of the play.
Just then his eyes met the flashing
triumphant orbs of Miss vavasor in
the stage-box, and at her side, the
portly form of the English nobleman,
Lord Clarence Montford.
Slowly the great blue eyes of the
actor dilated; he caught his breath
with 4 gasp; reeled unsteadily toward
the box where she sat in all her glow
ing beauty gazing cruelty down upon
him, like Mephistopheles gloating over
a lost soul. Then, with a faint moan
he fell-fell. and the blood streaming
over his white lips crimsoned the
stage.
When they lifted the golden head
life was quite extinct. Cyril Keith
had made his first and last appearance
in the play which was destined to
bring him fame and fortune, now that
he no longer needed it, and send his
name ringing down the aisles Of time
in posthumous glory.
So many of us become famous
after we are dead!
When the news was brought to
Maude Vavasor-the future Lady
Montford-in her lace-draped box
the announcement of the young mans
tragic death, her beautiful face paled
slightly, she bit her red lips snervously:
How very sad-and-and shock
;r eha iatr