The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1898-09-06
!coNTINUED.l
CHAPTER III.

The Constance Brandford whom Pris-
ella had known five years before had
been one Of those vivid, bright creatures
who hadset call the other girls by the
ears at boarding school, and had finally
gone off in a (schoolgirl version) blaze
of glory in search of a career. Priscilla
had never heard how she had succeeded,
nor what she had developed into, but
she had secured home newspapers for
foreign correspondence concerning her,
and finally had come to the conclusion
that she was pursuing modest if none
the less enviably perfect experience
abroad.
AS she and Mary were ushered across
an evil smelling antecham Der into a
dark and musty salon overfurnished
with chairs and sofas evidently bought
en- occasion, artificial flowers grown
dusty, and clock under a glass case
with the hands pointing five hours out
of the way, it occurred to Priscilla THAT
Constance had most certainly mastered
the art of self abnegation with the rest
tho crest" Stornmouth had spoken of.
She had known Constance's home be-
fore she had lost her parents and, with
their death, all means of support 1t
had been on the south side of Long Is
land, with a beautifully clipped lawn in
front, q wide cave rooted piazza a
Queen Anne interior, and little white
nest of @ room ''for daughter" which
overlooked gigantic honeysuckle, a
rose garden planted and tended by Con
stances own hands, and glimpse of
the Great South bays blue waters dane
ing like live lapis lazuli between the toss
of silver gray maple leaves at the foot
of the garden slope. This was indeed Il
contrast.
The door opened slowly, and a figure
slipped quietly into the room "Oh,
Priscilla!" said voice.
Priscilla stepped forward quickly and
| kissed the tired, pathetic little face lift
ed to hers. Then she reseated herself
very suddenly, with queer tight feel
ing about her heart.
Why, Constaace!' she calculated
"How thin you've grownl'
"Have l?'' said eonstance's familiar
voice indiTfrcntly. Work, Ipresume ;"
Where'are you singing?' demanded
Priscilla nervously 81 must go and
hear you.
81 ala i:l foran engagement Just
now, said Constance dejectedly. "Its
| the most forlorn business in the world. "
"Why don t you go to Geoffroy and
let him hear you" suggested Priscilla
| hopefully. You have such q lovely
voice" Geoffroy was the manager OF
the Grand Opera
~''It is very evident you have just
come over, f" remarked Constance, with
faint smile. "Where are you going
for the winter? To Rome Or Nice?
Didn It you know" began Priscilla
eagerly. 81 am going to sing in grand
opera" Then she checked herself sad
denly. To her astonishmentand chagrin
Constance was looking at her with OK
actly the same expression of benevolent
amusement she had seen on Storm
mouths face that first day they had
made each others acquaintance Oh tho
| steamer.
"Oh!" said Constance. "What for!'
Priscilla blushed. Because wish
to become prima DONNA" she explain
ed little lamely.
"Why?" asked Constance.
''You should know why" returned
Priscilla reproachfully. "You know
what it is to have voice and to be
consumed with the desire to sing"
81 know it to my COST" said Con
stance bitterly. $50 to Geoffroy 1
have sung for Geotfroy. I have sung for
them all. I have spent all my money,
have used up all my friends have ex-
hausted my strength, have waited,
longed, passed sleepless nights lived
through tortured days of imagining,
starvation and total humiliation, and
still I am looking for an engagement %
''Is your voice gomez"
"No," said Constance. "There are
too many of us; that's all. Besides,
there is prejudice against foreigners
oyer here. They don't want us. 1t is
not the way it is at home. We receive
anybody who has merit and foreign
reputation. Here it is different 1t takes
oh, Priscilla, it takes so many things
l have never suspected. 1t takes the
strength to Withstand temptation, jeal-
ousy, spite, indifference. Besides, there
are only ten stages in Europe today
worth singing on where the directors
pay. They dom desire ladies on them,
they say. And yet we girls are coming
over and coming over, some for a little
work, more for vanity, many for that
mad search after an unattainable Chi
mera.
"And yet, when I sing''-the little
figure had risen; the gentle oval face,
with its pretty uncertain outline and
its hopeless eyes, took on a color and
life which made it look once more the
way it used to look-"and yet, when
sing, everything is forgotten. You don u
know what rapture it is to hold 5000
people witha note or cadenza, to hear
the applause which sounds far off like
the patter-of rain on tin roof, to feel
that wonderful power in you which
comes with the sound of your own voice
in a great space where the acoustic
properties reward it for it's best effort
Sou can't j,nauir,a what IL ic RI foo