Akron daily Democrat. [volume] (Akron, Ohio) 1892-1902, 1899-06-24
1THIE FACE ON
THE CANVAS.

1t was at the matinee. Inc curtain niiu
fallen upon one act farce and the house
was darkened for the biograph.
Two girls sat in the left hand box,
chatting together. Their faces shone
whitley in the half light The lines of
their profles were so delicately fine that
many turned to look at them.
Last night" Mabel was saying. Il
dreamed of muddy water. i kept dream
ing of it all night long. 1t came on and
on, rolling up to my very feet. The waves
were big, turbulent, threatening. | was
afraid"
"a sign of trouble" murmured Flor
-ence, that is, unless it cleared. Did it
clear?"
Mabel frowned. She closed her fan and
tapped it impatiently against the palm Of
her other hand.
mo, it didn't" she answered. "But
what difference did that make?"
"When did you hear from Arthur"
Arthur was Mabel's soldier sweetheart.
"That is the trouble" sighed Mabel. Il
haven't heard from him for ages, but |
am expecting him home daily. His regi-
ment came last week, but he was not
with it. Perhaps he stopped somewhere
to rest. 1t is a wonder they didn't all die
down there in that oven of a place"
Then under her breath she added, 81
hate that dream of muddy water"
81 thought you didn't believe in
dreams" exclaimed Florence.
81 don't, but
She was interrupted by the appearance
of ME and Jack" upon the canvas.
There was a ripple of subdued laughter
as the little girl fell from the ropes into
the water, the dog swimming coolly off
and leaving her there.
Picture after picture was then prepar
ed. There was the naval parade. the
warships passing up the Hudson, the
yachts skimming swiftly in front of
them, partially obstructing the view of
the sailors, who stood like white statues
along their decks; next Hobson walked
leisurely down the deck of little cruis-
er: then Il review of the troops at Tampa
was announced.
perhaps it is Arthur's regiment that
is to be reviewed. whispered Mabel,
clasping her hands ecstatically together.
"Oh, hope SOP
There was q drumbeat, and, before a
dim vista of white tents, the troops pass
ed in review.
'"Their faces look sad" said Florence,
"and they walk as if they were tired to
death"
"A white dog, the mascot of the regi-
ment, occupied the center of the canvas
for second, q soldier following.
A piece of paper foated along behind.
Then came a row of six stalwart men.
The man il front suddenly turned his
face toward the audience. He looked
straight at Mabel. His eyes were hol-
low and sod. Intense WEAKNESS was
stamped upon every line of his gaunt
features.
Mabel leaned eagerly forward. She
laid hold of Florence's arm.
Look, Florence!" she gasped. "Look.
it is Arthur
In moment the face was gone from
the canvas, others had taken its place,
the drum ceased to beat, the review was
over, and the canvas was dark again.
Mabel was white to the lips. She hur-
riedly gathered up her belongings, her
fan, her handkerchief, her opera glasses.
"What are you ahout?" asked Flor
ence. "The Thing is not half over"
Il can't help it." said Mabel. 81 must
go now. The heat in here is sitting. |
can't stand it. / must have the fresh
air."
Outside she trembled so that Florence
took her arm.
''If / were you," she said, 81 should be
glad that ! saw him. Why do you wor-
ry SOP
'His eyes were hollow and sad," stam-
mered Mabel. land his cheeks were thin.
He looked SO tired-so dead tired. Oh,
Florence, suppose he is very ill; sup
pose-oh, remember my dreamr'
Florence affected an overwhelming sur
prise.
81 thought you didn't believe in
dreamsr said she.
81 d3't; | don't. Who but an idiot
would believe in such rank foolishness,
but you can't help thinking
"Oh, yes, you can! Come, we will take
this car, and 1 will see you home my
self. Don't be sillyr'
By the time they reached the house
Florence had coaxed the girl into some
thing like her old gayety. She laughed
at bit of her nonsense as they ran up
the steps together.
They passed into the hail. On a little
table reserved for cards lay letter.
Mabel took it up and held it between
her forefnger and thumb. 1t was old
and yellow. A dozen postmarks disig-
ured the face of it, upon which there was
no stamp.
Florence took it from her.
81 will opcl it for you," she said.
Mabel sank upon her knees on the
carpet. She remained there trembling,
her white face clasped between her slen-
der, bloodless fingers.
She saw once mere the tired face on
the canvas, the weary limbs dragging
laggingly along, the hollow eyes peer
ing straight into hers in all the sadness
of last farewell
For before Florence could read the
contents of the letter her heart had
guessed the truth.-Criterion.