The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1894-07-07
But Cyril Keith re no thought 70,

"
anything but the dainty bit of pink
and-white, the sweet, fair face with
it's melting dark eyes and wealth Of
golden hair; the lovely Miss vavasor.
Queen Of her select circle, rich, SO.
cial success-how dared he aspire to
such as she? 1t was madness, folly
suicide. All the same, it was true
and for her he had toiled-for her, al
though he knew not that she would
smile upon his suit. Maude Vavasor
was a soulless Mammon worshiper.
as unlike this poet, as dross is unlike
gold, yet the glitter is there. She
had met him at certain receptions, and
had chosen to smile upon him, just to
pique ''the other one" For there was
another sutton, another Richmond In
the field, before whose wealth and POI
sition Cyril Keith paled into insignifi-
canoe. Only he did not know of this
sutton, and no one had the heart to
refer to him in the presence of the
young dramatist.
1t was cruel and mistaken kindness,
for Cyril was slave to the siren and
believed her slightest word. He had
determined to write play and appear
in the leading role, and by putting his
whole heart and soul, and strength OF
brain and WILL and talent into it, he
hoped to touch her, and to win from
her ruby lips hope that in the future
she would be his So he had toiled
early and late, and as he wrote,
the part he intended playing became
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 if need
be in his new role.
He stood before the fireless grata.
with hectic flush burning upon his
cheeks, and feverish sparkle in hiu
eyes, and felt neither cold nor hunger.
There were flecks of blood upon his
lips but he knew it not.
"My darling" he mumured tenderly,
''my beautiful darling. Am l worthy
of her?"
And Satan laughed as ne listened.
The night for which he longed so
eagerly, feverishly, came at last. He
was to make his first appearance be-
fore the public in 'real theater,"
and he was in nervous tremor Miss
Vavasor was to appear in proscenium
box with several of her fashionable
friends, among them Lord Clarence
Montford, the English nobleman, '.the
other one" He was Miss Vavasor's
favored sutton, and to pique him she
had been kind to Cyril Keith. He was
really titled nobleman. To win a
title, Miss Vavasor 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 lured
Cyril Keith on, with the hope of in
citing the nobleman to proposal.
She had done her best Will she sue
coed?
Tonight she was fair as a dream
woman, in her robe of snowy silk
trimmed with gold, and a white plush
opera-cloak. Her beautiful hair was
sparkling with diamonds; she was the
loveliest woman in the great theater,
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-
crossed. 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 it open and read these words:
Dear Friend CYRIL know you will be
pleased OF my good fortune we have been
good friends, have we not? So 1 make bold
to tell you that tonight 1 have promised to
become the wife OF Lord Clarence Montford.
Only think OF it-Lady Montford! / an so
elated, must tell some one, and so tell you
Congratulate me Your friend. MAUDE"s
Once, twice, three times the pale
lips read it over, the perspiration
oeonuihS al uroPS upon his White
brow, his hands clinching the brutal
letter until he lost all power to feel
The call to the stage sounded in his
ears the audience must not be kept
waiting. Some one touched his arm
"Good heavens! man, you are ill"
voice said, which sounded far off like
distant thunder. But he drew away
from his interlocutor and passed oui
upon the stage.
Slowly and falteringly he went
through the part, until he came t.
where the hero tells the heroine of his
mighty love.
~ 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 gasp; reeled unsteadily toward
the box where she sat in all her glow
ing beauty gazing cruelty down upon