The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1901-03-15
MD, FRIDAY MORNING, MARCH IS,

| few more quiet days and ! shall move In
the world again. This confinement Is
killing me. l must breathe the fresh air,
see the faces of the crowd and-and hear
the clamor of the audience again."
| Nay, nay, Susan, you are too weak,
and you know there Is no need to play
again SO long as you grant me the honor
Of accepting my help. Become my wife,
dearest, and we will go away into the
country and see II the meadows and the
woods will give you strength"
II leave not London" she answered,
"till tread old Drury's boards. / would
play, Rupert. Oh, grant me this! Get
me leave to act Ophelia there, and I will
marry you on the morrow of that day
| aye, whether 1t be that London derides
or takes me to its arms. Do this, Ru-
pert, dear! Do this, pray"
"But, Susan, you are so weak"
81 will succor my strength then. Be
sides, l am better. All, yea, feel so
[ much betterl You know not how very
| much better, Rupert, dear"
"Well well. be 1t SO then. But as yet,
mark me, you are too iii by far"
God bless thee, Rupertl Thy good
ness makes me well completely"
He folded her In his strong arms, and
as she told him all over again Of her
| dreams he soothed her into gentle slum-
| Der.
And by and by. when the regular sigh
Of her breathing fell upon his ears, he
crept from the room and went bis way.
Not many days interviewed before q
! rumor sped abroad through all the town.
| A new actress was to appear at Drury
Lane in the character of Ophelia. and 1t
was whispered that at last Anne Oldfield
would have a worthy successor on those
| famous boards. Susan Ford was her
name, and wild tales went from mouth
| to mouth of where she came from and
who she was.
The old publican who had spoken to
| such great, though unknowing, purpose
| beneath Susan's window became in his
particular circle a man Of recognized
wisdom. His previous assertions con-
corning 'tthe little provincial hussy" were
looked upon as inspired, and every foolish
thing he now uttered was hardened to
| with open mouthed attention and won
| derment
Susan, though still troubled with occa-
sional fits of faintness, studied her part
with astonishing application. Often she
awoke in the middle of the night and
arose and rehearsed her scenes, until car
| roundings she forgot to subdue her voice
any longer and spoke the lines with all
the feeling they really demanded.
But as the night of her debut drew
nearer she became quieter and appeared
| less high strung. Only to Rupert, during
the long hours they had together, would
she keep saying, with deep and soulful
| enthusiasm: 81 shall be a great success,
Rupert. I know it, I feel itps
At last the eventful night arrived, and
Drury Lane was packed in every avail
able corner. The beaus had taken an
hour longer over their toilets, the deni-
zens of the pit sported ribbons in their
hats and the whole atmosphere bespoke
anxious expectancy. The only regret
was that the part Of Ophelia had been
chosen for the debut, and not character
of more prominence and passion.
The earlier parts Of "Hamlet" were
hardly listened to, and ever and anon
cries of Hasten" "Ophelia, Ophelia,"
| issued from the crowd.
But from the first entrance of Ophelia
every one was mute, enrapt. On the in
slant the house felt that a new genius
had indeed found admittance to old
Drury's stage.
Her grace and charm won every heart,
her mellifluous diction sounded like music
and her expressive, beautiful face i'm
pressed one and all with grave and pure
admiration.
Rupert sat In a box. his heart full to
overlooking with a keen joy that had
never before been his. gazing intently at
the woman he loved so ardently. He had
waited patiently all the long, long months
since he had known her without decrease
of love.
And now at last he was within sight of
supreme happiness. On the morrow she
was to be his wife.
As the mad scene drew near, the audi
ence exhibited still more lively interest
in the debutante, and when at last she
came on the stage as the demented Ophe-
liza the whole house burst forth into ap-
plause.
But she seemed to note 1t not Her
whole soul was pent up in her role. She
looked as though she saw no one, heard
nothing. She was the hapless Ophelia,
none other. She instilled a strange and
melancholy wildness into the part. Tears
stood in every eye. and not a disturbing
sound was heard throughout the house.
Gradually she seemed to become more
distraught, until in one last terrible cli-
max she gave vent to a frenzied shrek
and fell upon the stage.
The audience sat GREATNESS, paller
on every cheek, and none dared applaud.
Rupert had left the box and gone to
her firing room before the conclusion of
the scene. A feeling of uneasiness which
he could not throw off disturbed him.
He had never known such acting. Yet
was that not cause for joy? A noise was
heard at the door Of the room as he smil-
ingly treasured himself.
He jumped up and flung 1t open. Su-
san was struggling violently in the grasp
of two men, the words of the mad Ophe-
liza still upon her lips:
"There's fennel for you and column
bine! There's rue for you, and some for
mer
Suddenly her eyes alighted upon her
lover.
With a supreme effort she dragged
herself free from them.
Then her voice rang out:
No, no; he Is dead.
So to thy deathbedi
She sank to the floor, and her life pass
ed away in one short sigh.-Penny Pic
toriai Magazine.