The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1895-12-13
a 6roublesomp Girl.
By THE DUCHESS.


DUCHESS.
you-Amory? You look warm. Have
an ice?'' 4.
..No, thank you" j.
"COnee, then? Some ola idiot has
given It 40 his opinion that hot SCUM
cools the fevered brow. Therefore.
why not hot cof|ee7 Try itT, 4
mo Nothing nothing!' saye Mary.
who is rather irritable today. .Do be
quiet. Dicky; there's the curtain, going
ID do. = you '0n' care a0oot the pay
The curtain has descended and risen
again for the third time, and once
more silence falls upon the audience.
and very fattering attention IL
turned to the stage. A woodland
scene, very exquisitely painted, serves
us background for the heroine of the
piece, who Is met by chance In
charmingly arranged glade, by the
her0-the man to whom, In her earlier
days, she had been engaged. 1t would
.. take too long to give full history Of
the play here, but It IL necessary to
explain one or two things. The hero
Inc had once been famous musician.
Had suffered many things at many
hands. Had been parted by the mach
inntions of evil people from the man
she loved In her first youth UIero)
Had been taught to believe him false,
Had married, most unhappily, WA
now q widow; still believing the old
tale against her first love, she had
come to meet him in society. Struggle
between her heart and her doubts Of
him. Here In this glade he pleads
with her once more; for the last
time! Proves to her that her suspi-
clons have been unjust, and still, so
old, so long has been the misunder-
standing between them, that even Mt
this supreme moment she shrinks
from him, as though in disbelief OF
her Cwn feeling for him. She turns
from him, her face wrung with main
and uncertainty, and as II despair has
seized him, he stands motionless. It
Is the final appeal! After this hope
will be at an end. Already she has
crossed the stage, she ia nearly gone.
when suddenly the sound of music,
the music Of a violln-coming-com
Ing, but slowly, strikes the eur. It ia
q sound that stirs both his heart and
her own. What memories arise with
1t? What angel has stirred them?
Did ever human creature play that
sweet old air with 80 divine a mean.
ing? A silence falls upon the heroine
and hero, a silence, too, falls on the
entire theater.
At last the renderer Of those UNI
equalled strains steps into view. A
young girl with her violin! An en-
tirely secondary person 30 far as the
play Is concerned, vet necessary as
means OF reducing the heroine to
gentlcr frame Of mind. Quite second
airy! Yet Barbour, who is a very cpl.
cure In stage arrangements, AMI who
will always have the very best, even
In minor matters, had judged rightly
that this exquisite interlude (as It
might be called will be a distinct at-
traction and add yet one more lustcr
to the brilliancy Of the play.
The girl advances slowly, violin ON
shoulder. She Ind been referred to
casually, In the earlier movements OF
the play, as a rising young musician,
staying In the country house, and now
Mt this instant-so fraught with In
tense interest, she presents herself.
She Is a very, very young girl-a
child, one might almost say-gowned
In a little, pretty white morning
frock, from which the lace ut the
throat falls away in large. full collar,
and without any ornament Of any
kind. A lovely child!
a passionate exclamation falls from
Dalrymplc. He springs to his feet,
and is with difficulty pulled back
again into respectable position by
Amory!
"Are you mady 'says the latter.
"Would you make her tOwn-talk?
Wait, man; wait until the scene is
over. Good Heavens! To think of her
being here"'
Eleanor has advanced to the foot
lights! Her playing, so soft up to
this as to be mere suggestion Of |
things to come, now changes, and
with sharp crash Of the bow across
the strings. the nature of her playing
alters. That there is magic in her
touch is beyond doubt, because the in
tense nervousness to which she is act
ually prey fails to spoil the effect
she is producing. Just at first she
trembles so terribly that her agitation
Is perceptible, but after minute or
SO she stendles herself, as 1t were,
and compels herself to do her genuine
justice. The rendering of the sad and
tender mir chosen, meant to awaken
the heroine to fond memories of the
past, is SO magniflcently given, that
the listeners, who had anticipated
nothing better than pretty little bit
Of music, sit CO one man, spellbound.
The little magician who has en-
tranced them all, plays on with del
icacy, yet, withal. a wildness that be-
speaks excitement hardly pleasucab'c
Too true an artist to lie untrue to her.
self when OCCASION calls upon her for
her best, she is still SO frightened, so
horrified at her situation, as to scarce
~ know how she is to carry out this :,
fearful engagement to the end. !,
Her face Is white as death, her eyes
are cleaning, her soft, lovely hair lies
In fieecy clouds upon her low brow,
every curve Of her slight, childish
form can be seen, as, with every pas
''t''' OF nervous excitement, she draw
the bow across the strings. Never in
all her life has she played rs sue
pays now. The people listening. rapt.
intent, scarce breathing, dwell upon
each note, and marvel at the grace
and beauty Of the air thus given. The
grace and beauty of the violinist is al
most forgotten In the delight of tho
joy lier genius affords.
Toward the end it is plain to those
who know her, and ire trembling for
her, that she grows terribly nervous
once again. There Is no break
down, fortunately; she maintains
her reputation firmly to the end, but
That size Is perilously near one is GER
tain. 1t is, indeed, with difficulty that
she keeps up until the final bar Is
given.
And now, the end has come! Her
right arm falls to her side, and after
hush, more complimentary than a
thousand plaudits, n perfest storm Of
applause breaks forth. The whole the
alter rings with 1t. It is, in effect, an
Under cover Of IT the little heroine
Of the molnent-the lovely child on
whom oil eyes are centered-upset,
Extraordinarily conscious of any
thing except desire to escape
creeps from the stagc-to find herself
fnce to face WITHHOLD. Dalrymple!
CHAPTER x1I.