The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1901-03-15
A QUEEN
OF OLD DRURY.
a Story Of the Stage.
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VV~V~V~V~1~1~ ~S~S~1~1~8%&V
When Barton Booth was slowly dying
and Mrs. Oldfield often too i'll to act and
ere Kitty Give had yet emerged into the
sunlit path of prosperity, the town was
anxiously awaiting the coming of some
new favorite.
Were there to be no successors Of Anne
Oldfeld and Mrs, Bracegirdle? Were
the Booths and the Bettertons, then, ex-
tinct? In the tavern and the coffee
houses, at the street corners, in the
charmed circle of the court itself the self
same questions were asked and despair
ingly answered and asked again.
Lying in her sickbed in small house
near Glare market, Susan Ford one
night, overheard the subject discussed
beneath her open window. The uncouth
voices awoke her from ftful slumber,
and, raising her wasted form on one ell
bow, she rubbed her eyes and yawned
languidly.
BOUNDS! IT'S a pity Anne Oldfeld
were not young again." Quoth one speak
er, with some slight elegance of tone.
az faith well ne'er see another like
her," came the reply.
The pale face in the dimIy lighted
room vivifed with a keen interest as its
possessor caught the purport of the con-
versation.
"What actress have we now worthy of
the name" another voice exclaimed.
"Who can rouse US to fever heat"
There Is none, nor actor either" Chin
ed in a cantankerous bass. "a plague on
'em all. There's not an ounce of fire In
the whole fell tribe of 'em."
yea, but ye make a mistake, Master
Rayner. If ye'd have travelled as 1, We
would have known of one who'd set all
London agog an if she chose-a little
provincial husSy, mark me, as fiery as
the devil and sweeter than the angels. I
saw her near by Doncaster now close
upon two years agone. Her name was
Susan-Susan-aye, Susan
The sick woman had leaped from her
bed and rushed to the window, but the
rest of the colloquy escaped her ears.
The gossipers, already moving away ere
she had discerned the personal interest
attaching to their remarks, had passed
along out of sight and out of hearing.
For a moment she stood transixed,
with one hand clutching the curtain.
"Susan" she muttered. "Susan who7
Oh, can it be? Can it be? Yes, yes. Su-
san Ford in certainty. God has sent
him to cheer me in my illness-to encour
age me to be well. All. must get strong.
1 will! l will be the queen of Drury yet,
and Rupert-Rupert will love me the
more to see me idolized by all the high
and great, by all the big, the mighty
public" ....
In the buoyancy springing from this
newly aroused ambition she strobe up
and down the room, her disheveled hair
clinging round her frail figure. her hands
tightly clasped, keen excitement in her
eyes. s.
She thought of all her appearances
miles away in country booths, of her lit
tie successes in provincial towns. of the
honey of applause even from gaping yo-
kels, of her longings to do something
great-to hold an audience entranced, to
make them weep or laugh, just as she
willed. How often had she glowed with
intense delight as she pictured her tri-
umph in London. From every box in
Drury Lane earls and beaux would cheer
her; the pit would rise to its feet and
shout its appreciation. And afterwaHd
court potentates would crowd round her
in the greenroom and shower praises up
on her. But there would always come
the antithesis to this bright dream-the
renewed contemplation Of the dull gray
of stern reality, with all it's attendant
poverty, insignifcance, monotony.
Then Drury Lane would seem to tower
above her like gigantic frowning rock,
and could she, weak and friendless. scale
the precipice and gain a footing on those
dizzy heights? Nay, as she viewed the
prospect her heart would quake, and hot
tears, half with anger, half from despair,
would flood her eyes.
Yet one day after long period of de-
spondency her hopes had been revived to
some good purpose. While playing at
Ludlow she met Rupert Vendover. the
eldest son of Sir Reginald Vendover, a
brave old cavalier, who enjoyed the lei
sure earned by an active hunted life in
the cause of Charles IL. The young Ru-
pert, Economically enough, fell in love
with her, and for many days followed
her with the company of strolling players
from one place to another. He urged her
on in the pursuit of fame and, showing
ardent love of her beauty, respect for her
virtue and every sympathy with her as
pirations, very soon gained her undivided
| affection. Ultimately he had brought her
to London. to this very house, promising
to use what influence he had in her be-
half.
But suddenly those ambitious schemes
| of hers were shattered again.. Sickness
| struck her down. For months she had
| lain in this room. weak and spiritless.
Only Rupert's daily visits had kept her
enamored of life. To ever act again
seemed an impossibility.
But now. through few chance words,
all the old restless eagerness took hold OF
her afresh. The path of fame stood dis
closed anew, and she longed to tread 1t
with an all consuming desire.
Suddenly amid her reverie gust of
wind slammed the open lattice against
the wall She turned. startled. and with
a historical cry fell prone upon the bed.
A minute later footsteps were heard
upon the stairs. The room door was
opened and the goodwife who tended hel
entered. A tall figure peered in at heI
heels and whispered, MAY l come mi"
Then, seeing, "Heavens!" he exclaimed
"What's thisP' and rushing to the bed
side took the senseless woman In his
arms.
"Susan, Susan, speak to me, dearest
TITS l, Rupert. Speak, speak,!
He chafed her hands and bathed hel
forehead from a bottle snatched from ar
adjacent table.
Her eyelids slowly Enclosed, and SHE
smiled wanly.
"What is the matter, dear heart? Yor
tax your strength too much in rising
Why :.