The Van Buren press. [volume] (Van Buren, Ark.) 1859-1914, 1897-01-16

"Your turn, madame-will you tell
me what music you desire?' The or.
chestra, composed OF one violin on the
stage, began the swinging accompani-
ment of La Paloma, and at the end, and
while the blood beat and surged in
deafening throbs in her heavy head,
again she heard the voice of the mhn-
ager, seemingly great distance off:
accept my compliments, madame, l
shall be glad to offer you q salary of
ten pounds week. | am sure you will
have a success" "Un success fou,n he
said, turning to the orchestra, who
gracefully waved his fiddle, bowed low
and replied: Sans doute." Poor wom-
an, she looked into their eyes to see il
they were knocking her; then, con-
vineed of their good faith, she mustered
all her strength, and with the strange
surging still in her ears, smiled, said
81 thank YOU" turned quickly and left
the theater. How she got home was
always a mystery to her. Martini
heard faint pull at the bell, FASTENED
to the door and found her mistress
pale as death, but with her eyes wide
open and a set smile on her lips. She
put her TO bed, held her quivering body
till by degrees the tortured soul began
to still itself and the overweight brain
found relief in such healing tears as
had not come before in all those
strained days of trial. And now there
was practicing and preparation of cos
tunes, then the first appearance and
the many succeeding, all iustifying the
acumen of her friend the impressario.
Gradually all pressing need, the in
debtedness, the grinding care disap-
peared, and she could have been COM
paratively happy.
All day, save for the morning hour of
rehearsal, she kept Maizie beside her
1t was Maize who made daily holo-
oaust of unopened billets-doux and
adorned her nursery with the flowers
that invariably accompanied them. II
was Maize who first enjoyed, almost in
spired, the dances she invented, and
who first praised her "Sweet Mumsie'
in her artistic costumes. Every even
ing she left the child with a new pang,
though she could not but feel her safe
with good Martha, and flew on the
wings of love to her bedside on her re-
turn. Resolutely she shut her eyes.to
all that displeased her in her new sur
roundings, and soon her dancing be-
came to her an infatuation. For the
time she was on the stage all else was
forgotten. Her grief fell from her like
dismal garment, and she stood the
personiication of laughing youth,
grace and joy. Always CARRIED in white
and with a gauzy, wing-lil2e scarf
Ia Paloma" they called her after her
first dance-she foated in an atmos-
pierre chaste and poetic, too delicate to
be misunderstood, and, as before, even
the women were charmed. Yes, she
might have become content, but daily
Maize grew weaker and more fragile,
and her heart failed within her. She
would take the child in her despairing
arms and hold her so close that the
little one would cry out, yet was happy
withal in the embrace, for she loved her
"Mumsie" with a deep devotion, and
seemed with strange prescience to un-
derstand much.
One night-it was about three months
after her debut-she left home little
lighter of heart than usual. Maize had
been feverish all day, and had grown
quieter toward evening, and they had
Lad royal game of romps and big,
big hug and kiss" when she left.
Toward the close of the evening she be-
gan to grow i'll at ease, and, throwing
her fur-lined mantle about her, without
changing her costume, she left the
theater hurriedly, and, jumping into
hanson, was driven home in all haste.
The front door was open. From the hall
came the voice of her physicians;
$50 quickly, or she will not know
her"
"Who will not know whom?" she
said, to herself. "Who will not know
whom?" she reiterated to the physi-
clan, as she walked quickly into the
house.
He took her in his strong arms, car
ried her to the nursery and placed her
in chair beside the child The dear
little face, already famed by the wings
of the angels, flushed softly.
81 was waiting, Mumsie," she whis-
pcred; "you will dance for me now, will
you not?"
She fell on her knees beside the
couch. and took the little one in her
arms.
Sweet, lovely Mumsie," said the
child, kissing the bare arms; you will
be real dove in Heaven"
"Maizie, Maizie, do not leave mel"
walled the trembling woman.
mo, Mumsie," answered the child;
"you shall come too"
The mother gazed at her, speeehless
and wild with alarm.
"Mumsie," said the little one, trying
to raise the heavy little head with the
short golden curls in damp ringlets on
the pale forehead, "Mumsie dear, do
dance. Perhaps the angels don't dance,
and / love it So"
With a great sob and a supreme effort
she rose from her knees, threw of the
heavy cloak which was still about her,
! ard began TO dance. Was ever such
martyrdom, ever such bravery? Ali
Mother and Saint, in other days canon
i:.ation was often more lightly won. On
she danced in the dimly-lit death cham
Der, those outside standing with bated
breath not daring to enter, yet seeing
Gil. Sweetly the child smiled, lifted
| thn llttle hand once as IL To- thnnk her.