The record-union., 1897-09-26

''Yes," said Farncombe, "the clock
was just on g."
Great Jupiter! And I've been act
ing with a ghost!''
Several others joined us.
"A ghost?" said Gordon. whats
that?"
Trotter turned to him.
We've been acting with ghost
the ghost of Ruthven."
You're joking"
"Ruthvens dead. He died last night
at g. Farncombe saw him die
The crowd fell back. Ruthven was
standing within a yard of us. The
tumult still continued in the theater.
1 wondered, even then, If they were
calling for the author. Seldom has an
author felt less inclined to bow his
thanks Ruthven's eyes blazed like
lightning. He seemed to have increased
in hight At that moment his very
personality would in itself have been
almost sufficient to have carried
scene.
You saw him diei"
He addressed himself to Farncombe.
He spoke with a strength of passion
which was in uncomfortable conso-
nance with his entire bearing. At sight
of him, Farncombe shrank away-as,
indeed we all did.
"Ruthven?"
''Yes-Ruthveni"
Ruthven stretched out his hands in
front of him. He uttered his own
name almost in a shrek. For a mo-
ment l thought Farncombe was going
to have fit, or else turn tail and flee.
But he did neither. Suddenly he rush.
ed forward at the man before us.
It's mott" he shouted; "by the Lordi
it isn't Philip-its his brother! What
a fool I've been!"
Not the least surprising incident of
that night was the extraordinary
change which took place in Farm
combe's bearing. Ruthven broke into a
peal of discordant laughter-laughter
which suggested anything but merri-
ment He still held out his hands with
the same wild gesture.
TT isn't Philip-it's his brotheri
Philips dead. He died last night-in
misery and beggary His life dreams
faded, his hopes all blasted! The voice
which told him that his time would
come proved liar after all!
Advancing a step or two, he address
ed himself directly to Trotter and to
me.
'And I'm a fraud-a swindleri It's
a clear case of mpersonation-send for
the pc'icei I'm only Ruthven's brother!
Years ago I tried my luck upon the
boards, and failed! and failed! and
failed, 1 tried again, and failed againi
I was a failure even in booth! Ha!
ha! ha! AS a super I almost failed!
But 7 knew that it was in me all the
time if l could only get q chance, and
could only get it out. And then Philip
fell i'll. He had had a little better
luck than mine, but he too had been
kicked from pillar to post Six months
out Of a shop, and six months a couple
of pounds a Week-that had been the
sort of thing with him. I went and
saw him as he lay in bed. He told me
that Robert Ince had seen him act, and
had offered him the big part in his new
play. His chance had come at last
as he lay dying. The dream Of his life
was re alized-when he was face to face
with death. Half in joke, he put an
idea into my head. He said I believed
in my own powers; no one knew him
up in town; why didn't I take his part?
said nothing, but I took the script
away and read it. AS I read it I knew
that my chance had come; that this
was the part of which I had been
dreaming; that I was fitted to hair;
that, if 1 could only get the chance of
playing it, this time I should not fail.
told him so. He was incredlous.
He wanted at least to write and sug-
gest me as his substitute. But I knew
better. I knew that it wasn't likely
that The odd man in a f1t-up travelling
leg-show would be allowed to create
the big part in new piece by one Of
the most famous dramatists of the day,
at a first rate West End London thea
ter. So he let me 60 And you took
me for Philip. And you thought I was
a stick at rehearsals. So was. I was
half fed, was ill-lodged, I was pretty
nearly penniless. I knew that Philip
was dying 1 realized, little late, the
responsibility 1 had taken on my
shoulders. My heart sank. I began
to think that after ALL 1 should fail
But this morning II heard that Philip
was dead, and-and 1 went mad, and
and came down to the theater. and
and You hear those shouts? You
hear the noise? I'm a fraud! I'm
not PhIip-Im his brother! It's
clear case of impersonation! But I've
not failed, Not failedi"
Just then Clifford, the acting man
agr, came hurrying up.
Il don't know if you're aware that
there's something very like a riot in
the house I don't know what's the
matter behind here, but nobody seems
paying much attention. They're call
ing for the authOri"
The author went.-Cornhill Magazine.
Acknowledge an invitation for dinner
or luncheon the day it arrives.