The National tribune., 1897-02-25

! Ii
again referred to her husband or her home /;
communications from the theater were now
addressed 10 n ladies' club; her companion
at rehearsal was an old woman, apparently
a servant, rs reticent as herself
| They generally arrived on foot, alighting,
rs the manager discovered. from an omnibus
in the main street. near the Hyperion.
Instincts both of wisdom and courtesy in
| duced him to refrain from making any effort
| at present to penetrate her reserve.
As to the success of his venture, his con-
! fidence increased as time went on. Beatrice
appeared to be under the influence of some
over-mastering purpose which enabled her to
surmount the difficulties inseparable from
j her inexperience, and to endow the part with
startling vitality. Her fire was enough even
to have redeemed stupidity, and she had
none to encounter; it communicated itself
| to the rest Of the company; it communi-
Gated itself to him, Percy Marks, the
actor-manager, who played the part of the
ruined genius, the husband of the Modern
Wife"
She led. thrilled, enthralled him. The
pathos of failure crept into his marrow, and
he began to understand its possibilities for
the first time. She thrust them home upon
him, and made him suffer all their torture
up to the last scene where she saved him
from cOwardly surrender. But he sometimes
wondered whether she would ever act again !;
whether she were acting now. She seemed
to be merely telling story which she-was
determined the world should hear; it seemed
impossible that she could ever assimilate any
other part as she assirnilated this. She was
so desperately true.
| The critical night drew near. The play
was announced as the work of Lucan Grey,
an author hitherto unknown, but a rumor
had circulated to the effect that it had been
written by the new actress who was engaged
| for the leading part, and not little specu-
laton and curiosity were consequently rife
| in theatrical circles At the close of the
| last rehearsal, Percy Marks said to Mrs.
| Grey:
"The author will Of course be called.
hope you will be ready to respond?"
'To be hissed 2" she said.
81 have no fear Of it."
Nor have I, really-t shall succeed. l
will make them love me, pity me, and then
-yes-if the author is called, the author
will appear-npon one condition"
She had of late dressed more effectively
than OF old. To-day she wore long coat of
dark velvet that enhanced the sensitive
delcacy Of her facet her red-brown hair
showed in thick coils beneath her velvet
toque, and her grey eyes had TAKEN in her
excitement, depth Of shadow which made
them seem purple, almost black.
What is the condiE Eon?" he asked,
eagerly. He foresaw in, the disclosure of
her double identity the climax of his tri-
umpb.
THAT SO long as the, piece draws and
proves financial success you will not, under
any pretext, take it off the boards under 100
nights" 1lf.
succeeds, why should wish to Withdraw
it?D
"why, indeed? This is merely whim
of mine. Give me your promise in writ
ing"
He demurred. II hope it will run 300
nights" he said, evasiyely. "What you ask
is unusual and quite unnecessary"
Nevertheless, grant me this favor"
He tried to put her off, until he saw signs
of restive rebellion. He was very much in
her power, and after all, The promise seemed
safe one. What if at the last she were to
throw him over, spoil everything, as he al
most believed it was in her to do, if she were
thwarted? At last he consented. He drew
up and signed an agreement to the effect
that for no reason but legitimate failure
would he withdraw "a Modern Wife under
the time specified
The following night his expectations
were more than realized The house was
crowded. The audience was at first good
tempered percy Marks was eminently pop
ular), then appreciative. then enthusiastic.
AS the curtain fell the storm of applause
rolled from stalls to gallery and from gal
lery to stalls, and back again.
1t was one of those unqualified triumphs
which more than once the manager had
scored by his ventur0us daring and appre-
ciative judgment Aud yet sense of an
noyance mingled with his satisfaction. Mrs.
Grey had done splendidly; had surmounted
inevitable difficulties with marvellous cour-
age; had hardly after the first scene. shown
apprecable signs of nervousness. She was
called for again and again with him before
the cry of Author" arose. She had just-
fed his expectations, but he was conscious
that she had not played for him or to him
alone.
More than once he had seen her eyes fixed
upon a box to the left Of the stage, aud in
the shadow at the back he had caught sight
Of q white, eager face, and the figure of a
man.
But now the call was growing imperious:
Author! Anthor!" and she showed no sign
ofresponse He turned towards her quickly;
her face had grown ashen-she was tremb-
ling from head to foot.
go on" she whispered, tell them that
the author is ill-will come presently-ask
them to wait-give me five minutes-only
three her hand was pressed to her side.
He was really alarmed, and hurried before
the curtain to make his little speech. He
was always welcome and listened to. When
he returned he found her standing where
he had left her, but by her side was a
stranger, a man, the same he had seen in
the box.
Here" she said, rapidly, is the author,
the true Lucian Grey; he, is ready to appear,
and receive his rights,
Marks drew backaa7saggely he recognized
this man. 80
Remember your ! promise" she said, i'm
periously.
The cries from the, front were growing
once more imperative; With quick motion
of her 1.-THE white hands she pushed the
man who had just joined her toward the
wings.
"What does this mean 2" said Percy
Marks, angrily. when he stood with her
alone.
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