The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1898-09-30

her une character, her high standard
for art pure and simple, her desire to
succeed through merit, proved her
direst foes, since unconsciously they
assumed for her superiority which in
any other direction she was far from
feeling. Her better womanhood only
won for her venomous innuendo from
her comrades of both genders For the
foreign stage. feverish from incessant
contact with scurvy methods and talent
strung on a record Of viciousness-a
viciousness perhaps acquired or inherit
ed through strangling poverty and i'm
perative association with immortality
has at present very few instances of in
domitable will, coupled with merit
spiritual as much as material, having
made its way worthily to the FORE 1t
has been proved, it is being proved, it
will be proved again and again, that sue
cess, the highest, sweetest version Of
righteous achievement, is practically
unattainable in this quarter for young,
beautiful and we'll born foreigners un-
less through the most awful strife, a
strife incomprehensible perhaps, at least
unmastered, by onlookers at home, a
strife which to uninitiated maidenhood
is as the blizzard to the dollhouse flower,
a strife no less ceaseless nor racking
than the strife Of the spirit against the
flesh.
When Constance turned her face to.
ward home, she experienced none of the
regret it might have been supposed
would be her portion upon taking such
a decision-a decision to renounce the
footlights for the fireside, the applause
of the multitude for the appreciation of
her friends. Rather she rejoiced, for
she recognized, sadly enough, that her
star would never be in the ascendant in
a country where human nature warred
against her peace with vile innuendo
and Interpretation of her noble battle
against deterioration. Her mind encom-
passed finally the sad conclusion that
she was purposely misunderstood. Hap
PLY by that time Stephen Doxie came
in search of his wife.
At home at last, where the sound of
the thrashing machine made music for
her dreams, and the grasshoppers droned
out their monotonous song, and the odor
of salt and sedge drifted it's fragrant
freshness through the honeysuckle
which sweetened her quiet thoughts,
she wrote one day letter to Mrs. John
Stornmouth of New York.
Stephen says ran the little mis-
sive, "that every note sing to him is
worth its weight in gold. Although he
is not the greatest critic in the world,
somehow believe him. By the way,
dearie, are there not days when you are
glad that we gave up our dreams-yours
Of title and mine Of being prima
donna?"
Constance, you dear old girl" came
the answer, a month later, how did
you ever know wished to be count
ess? John has never even suspected it.
Besides, it is all very we'll for you to be
resigned. You were prima donna'
That very night the Stornmouths
gave a dinner, a fashionable dinner,
with a pink and silver background,
Hungarians in a small conservatory at
the left of the dining room, several of
the seasons prettiest debutantes and
Mrs John Stornmouth radiant at the
head of the table.
The conversation drifted on to the in
ternatlonal marriage question.
Listen, iriScilla advised soberly,
her hand on tie ,limpled wrist OF girl
at her side, u gin who had turned the
heads of half highlands noblest sons at
the queens last drawing room, girl
with eyes like golden topazes and a
head like q stag in its spirited carriage,
a brow for tiara, the world said,
listen Don't do it. There will be
days, you know, when the atmosphere
will be heavy as lead and your hus-
band won't care to understand. /"
But how do you know"
Priscilla flushed violently. Her eyes
caught Stornmouth's. His We're guilty
of the old twinkle. "Hush!" size WINS
pered fearfully. ~ came very near it.
He indicating her avis" never
knew how near -
And just at that moment one of John
Stornmouth S most observing guests
wondered why his host threw back his
handsome head and gave vent to ring
ing laugh.