Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1897-05-01

and while the blood beat and surged in
deafening throbs in her heavy head,
again she heard the voice of the mana
ger, seemingly great distance off:
"Accept my compliments, madame.
I shall be glad to offer you a salary Of
e1O week. am sure you will have a
success Gun success fou," he said,
turning to the orchestra, who graceful
ly waved his fiddle, bowed low and re-
piled, "Sans doute" Poor woman, she
looked into their eyes to see if they were
mocking her Then. convinced 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 mys-
terry to her. Martha heard faint pull
at the bell, hastened to the door and
found her mistress pale as death, but
with her eyes wide open and a set smile
OIL her lips. She put her to bed, held
her quivering body till by degrees the
tortured soul began to still itself and
the overwrought brain found relief i'll
such healing tears as had not come be-
fore in all those strained days of trial.
And now there was practicing and prep
aration of costumes, then the first ap-
pearance aud the many succeeding, all
justifying the acumen of her friend the
impresario. Gradually all pressing
need, the Indebtedness, the grinding
care, disappeared, and she could have
been comparatively happy.
All day, save for the morning hour of
rehearsal, she kept Maizie beside her.
1t was Maizie who made daily holo-
caust of unopened billets douX and
adorned her nursery with the flowers
that invariably accompanied them. 1t
was Maizie who first enjoyed, almost in
spired, the dances she invented and
who first praised her Sweet mumsie'
in her artistic costumes. Every evening
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 i'll her new sur
roundings, and soon her dancing became
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 personifica
ton of laughing youth, grace and joy.
Always garbed i'll white and with a
gauzy, winglike scarf-La Paloma they
called her after her first dance-she
f1oated i'll an atmosphere chaste and po
80 1o1, I, 10.
and, as before, even the women were
charmed. Yes, she might have become
content, but daily Maizie 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 deep
devotion and seemed with strange
prescience to understand much.
One night-it was about three months
after her debut-she left home little
lighter of heart than usual. Maizie had
been feverish that day and had grown
quieter toward evening" and they had
had royal game of romps and "big,
big hug and kiss when she left. To-
ward the close Of the evening she began
to grow i'll at ease, and throwing her
fur lined mantle about her, without
changing her costume, she left the thea
ter hurriedly and, jumping into han
som, was driven home in all haste. The
front door was open. From the hall
came the voice of her physician:
IL, Il,
her.
"Who will not know whom?" she said
to herself. "Who will not know whom?"
she reiterated to the physician 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-
pered "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 her bare arms, ''you will
be real dove in heaven"
"Maizie, Maizie, do not leave me!'
walled the trembling woman.
"No, mumsie," answered the child
"You shall come too"
The mother gazed at her, speechless
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 1 love it SOP
With great sob and supreme effort
she rose from her knees, threw off the
heavy cloak which was still about her
and began to dance. Was ever such mar
tyrdom, ever such bravery? All, mother
and saint, i'll other days canonization
was often more lightly won. On she
danced i'll the dimly lit death chamber,
those outside standing with bated
breath, not daring to enter, yet seeing
it all. Sweetly the child smiled, lifted
the little hand once as if to thank her,
then the fiuttering eyelids closed, the
long lashes rested on the pale cheeks,
and she was still. Closer and closer
danced the mother, till she leaned anx-
iously, breathlessly, over the child, fear
ing to stop abruptly lest she should
waken her Then with Cry that rang
through the house, and rings now in the
ears of the two who waited outside the
door, she fell on the couch beside her
angel and the brave heart broke. -