Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1899-05-18

rite When | walked across the stage
to the church, l could not see. There
was a mist before me. | seemed to
think, If | get through this, my cause
is won, but my heart beat so, Priscilla,
my heart beat so. " The sweet oval
face paled with the memory. After
that it was all right. ] somehow walked
through that awful mist. | seemed to
pierce it and come out into space
where all was peace. l imagined what
mother would have said if she had lived
and had been on that other side, My
brave little daughter l fancied she
was there They said sang better than
l had ever sung before. " She stopped.
There was another time" she be-
gan again, with a long, tired sigh, "a
time when | was the doublure for
great singer down in Naples. To be
doublure is TO study the role with the
hope to sing it in case the real prima
donna is i'll. Humiliating, but we are
all obliged TO do it some time or other
and we are often only too glad to seize
that chance to be heard Saponarella
was i'll. The opera was 'Spartacus,
written by an old Neapolitan who had
starved all his life, and who III that one
night, at 10 years of age, became IA
nous. There was contralto who hated
me and who had always been jealous
of my teachers belief in my powers
She druggcd some water which stood
on the shelf in my dressing room. One
of the chorus warned me, and so her
purpose was frustrated. 1t was that
which fired me on. | will never forget
the drinking song in the opera, Priscil-
la. | was a woman who saw her lover
being led to the scaffold, and, knowing
all was hopeless elected to cheer his
last hours with the memory of her
voice. 1t makes you fierce, a song like
that. 1t holds the possibilities of so
much emotion. Imagine, if you can, the
situation. - Constance'S face was in
spired with white light that seemed
to come from within. II will sing it for
you, e"
She stood forth on the little NANCY
mat III front of her doorway; she had
drawn them across near threshold into
tiny room looking out on dark, mar
and a sparsoly filled CRATE of dying
Goals. With no more ado she began to
sing, in wild, rich voice, the drink
ing song of the broken hearted maiden.
The voice held the echo of great grief
, and passion. 1t melted into almost ma
ternal Tenderness, like the Groom Of a
mother singing her sick child to sleep,
and out again to soaring ecstasy of eX.
allied endeavor which seemed almost
prayer 1t ended with broken chord.
, The little room seemed to Priscilla tC
vanish. Only woman's broken hearted
voice carrying the strains of morta
anguish filled tho dingy, uninspirini
place
He dies them" explained Constance
quietly. There is nothing else for me
TO do but to be silent y
= "Oh, Constance, said Priscilla, &C.
, don't wonder you wish to sing wheI
You can sing like that" She felt hope
lessly insignificant and inexperienced
+ "Thank you, " said Constance, laugh
a ing. Il wish you We're director"
a II never could sing like that" saiC
! Priscilla. II doubt if ever | could fee
/, like that. "
+ You must have felt to sing of an.
emotion, " said Constance, with littl
= sad smile.
Don you love it?" cried Priscilla
) 81 have almost died for it, returne,
Constance softly.
q Priscilla put her arms around he
q and gave her IA girlish hug.
y You cannot possibly imagine HOY
n much | admire you, " she said. "Yo
% will come and see me, won't you"'
~ "If | have time" Constance replied
AS Priscilla walked home to the Ave
nue. Montaigne, where Aunt Mildre
had secured an apartment, it occurre
TO her that perhaps Stornmouth Nigh
y be right, after all She told Aunt Mi,
s dred of her doubts and fears ''Ml
). Stornmouth says " she explained, -
is the hardest life in the world.
81 dare say his remark was not Ell
tirely disinterested, returned Aul
Mildred, with mischievous CLEAN i
n her still pretty, laughing eyes.
AT which Priscilla shifted conteml
tuously and withdrew
a CrO BB CONTINUED)