Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1894-02-24

Ana lie explained mat nc was not i1cb.
Although a partner in q flouiishiig house,
he had but little money at his own dis
posal. George and he drew certain sum
every month, and at the end Of ,,'e year
divided the profits. Expenses We're large
Besides. how could he be sure that the
theatre would succeedi
1T certainly woald," answered the ac-
tor grandiloqucntly, ''for ] should be an
run for year"
But 10 all poor DE Lacy's entreaties
Florence would only answer:
"Wait two or three years. At present 1
have no right to ,eculate. Ny name is
not my own; IL belongs to the iirm. NJ
you want to see me IA bankrupt" he con-
tinued passionately, and then, more calm
ly, added: .Comc to me again year from
now. and will aid you il can. And now
goodnight"
1t was after two o'clock when the actor
reached home He found his wife and
daughter at work and waiting for him,
hut they We're not so calm as Of yorc. A
brighter color glowed on Dora's fair face,
and Mrs. De Lacy held her big scissors
with trembling hands. The birds on the
table were more brilliant than usual. as IL
ing fingers.
Mrs. De Lacy watched the clock.
"Ah!" she said, ''if your father only sue
ceeds. how happy we shall be-"
"He will. am sure. Mr.. Florence is so
kindhearted; and then Sylvia loves us
dearly. though since her marriage she has
seemed TO neglect us. We must take in
TO consideration the great difference in
our positions; but shall never forget all
she has done for me-
The mother was about TO ask what she
meant, and what Sylvia had done. but her
thoughts wandered again 10 her husband.
"If your father were To have theatre
he would play every night, az he did
when you were little. You do not remem-
Der il, but he made an immense success
al Yarmouth. All. how bright and hand
some he was in those days! But mis-
fortune has sadly changed him. And yet
i feel that little happiness and freedom
from care would make him quite young
again. At Yarmouth the manager had a
carriage inst think Of our having car
riage! 1t would he such a good thing for
you. my dear; you could go out every day.
and drive into the country; you could see
the trees. ard fields"
The little lame girl drew long breath
At this moment the door below shut vio-
lently, and Mr.. De Lacy's heavy step was
heard on the staircase. The two women
dared not look at each other.
The poor fellow had certainly received
fearful blow. The humiliation of re-
fusal, the ridicule Of his associates. the
debts that he had incurred at various
public-houses, all weighed upon his mind
as he slowly mounted the long fights Of
stairs. His heart was nearly broken, but
the dramatic instinct was so strong in his
nature that he could not tell his tale Of
woe in natural manner.
He entered. looked at the table covered
with work, at his little supper in the cor
ner. at the two anxious faces. Then he
took three steps forward, waited full
minute-and you know at the theatre If
minute of silence is not long-and then fell
on a chair clasping his hands over his
heart
The curse of Cain is upon mel" he
Kissed between his set teeth and he gave
the table tremendous thump with his
closed hand-so violently that the little
birds and beetles flew into the four cor
ners of the room.
His terrified wife flew TO his side. while
Dora half rose from her chair in mute dis
tress.
The actor then threw back his head.
permitted his arms to fall limp and life
less at his side. while he poured forth a
dismal monologue. interspersed with sighs
and groans, by threats and imprecations
against the selfish upstarts for whose BEN
eft the artist yielded his very life blood.
Then he lightly sketche his whole career
the triumphs Of his dsbut. his successes at
Yarmouth, his marriage TO that "sainted
woman"-and he pointed trembling
finger TO the poor wife. who bathed in
tears, nodded u weak assent to each of her
husbands propositions. lie recalled his
arrival in London. and dwelt on his misery
and privations. Alas, he had not endured
many, as anyone could see who turned
from the picture he presented of we'll
dressed comfort to the two pale creatures
at his side.
"An. ne continued, ''1or fifteen years
have fought and struggled; for fifteen
years / have owed every mouthful have
swallowed to the exertions of these two
angels"
"Dear father" cried Dora pleadingly.
"Yes. every mou,hful. Nor am
ashamed 10 confess il. since the sacrifices
that they have made have been laid on the
altar Of my sacred art. But now all is
over; / renounce my vocation!
His wife uttered a little shrek.
"Vcre." she cried, "what are you say
ingi"
leave me TO my miseryw he answered,
in sepulchral tones. my strength is
gone. Fate is too cruel. can endure
this unequal contest no longerw
II was pathetic to see those two women
imploring him, with tears and embraces,
to still cherish the hopes that had been
his sole Joy. Could you have heard them
TO entreat him To have courage and
struggle yet little longer, you would
have wept with them.
At last he made the concession, and
promised them not to despair, nor take
any desperate steps; and a quarter Of an
hour later our comedian was seated at the
table. eating his supper with an excellent
appetite--an annette improved possibly
by his exertions and by the sympathy or
his little audience.
The only indications of the stormy hour
he had passed were to be found in GER
tain lassitude. common to ell great TRACE
dians who have played a long and fatigu-
ing role.
Dora and her mother. however. paid
heavier penalty. for they never closed
their ewes until daybreak.