The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1901-11-16
Claude Melnotte's
3 Fortune o
BY LEROY ARMSTRONG.
Copyright, 1871. By Author. Syndicate,

N that afternoon at the matinee. 1t
was the old play of LADY of Lyons"
and she had come in just because of
AAuld Lang Syne."
1t was the first play she ever had
seen-back there IL years ago, when
she was a girl of IS, with a passion
for matinees and a tendency to ideal
lie the heroes of drama.
She remembered the "Claude" of
that earlier day, and the havoc he
made matinee afternoons at the old
Columbia.
Yet here was a newer theater in
Randolph street, with stock COM
pany-and the same old music that
she had always remembered. She
wondered what the Claude" of to-
day would be like. Could she ever
forget what that earlier "Claude"
had been?
For he had seen her sitting there
in the box day after day, following
the fortunes of the gay romancer.
He had made it easy for her to meet
him. He had courted her despite the
rich fathers prohibition; and after
two years of such sorrow as she had
never deemed possible-such suffer
ing as comes to few women-she had
permitted him to cast her aside.
He was in the heyday of his fame
then, and he did not need her. She
needed him. And in the years that
followed, when her fathers fortune
tumbled like house OF cards, and
she learned labor and self-support
and self-respect, by the way-she
thought of those mad, glorious days
when Arnold Montreville had won
her.
1t was curious she should have in
dulged herself this afternoon, slip
ping into the theater without pre-
vious purpose, just for draught OF
the old intovication--a break in the
monotony of life long grown pro-
sale. Yet here she was, and the hush
that precedes the hero's entrance was
upon the house.
1t was Arnold Montreville.
His name was Thomas Barry, and
under that name he had married her.
Yet here he strutted in all the men,
dacious magnificence of a new ere
alton.
He was older. She saw that, after
the first few moments of numb aston
ishment at what had come of her
within. He was older-and only by
fias hes the magnificent Lord of Como.
When her heart had ceased bound
ing at this unexpected glimpse of a
husband long lost, at life well be-
hind her, she shrunk as far down in
the parquet chair as she could and
watched the details of his passing.
He was fat now, and old. Twelve
years had been like half century to
him. He struggled visibly to act the
part of a jaunty bridegroom when he
led the splendid pauline" to her
home. He was plainly sick, and un-
equal to the demands of the part.
And her heart went out in pity to
him.
She knew the theater, and she
knew the world. And she wondered
which of those women before her
would minister to him.
Lady of Lyons" was tragedy to
Kate Raymond that day. And when
the curtain went down she crept out,
her eyes abrim with tears for sorrow
it had brought her.
At the very door an usher touched
her arm.
BEG pardon-but Mr.. Arnold Mon
treville wishes to see you. Will you
wait for him here"
He indicated the alcove reserved for
women, and fitted away-for ushers
were at liberty now.
cts you-Kate-by Jove, it's you'll"
he exclaimed, as he stumbled toward
her. "Come out and walk with me.
I'm brute, and 1 don't deserve it,
but I'm tired. Be good to me-"
All! it was the same old challenge,
the same old way to her heart. She
held him at arms length for mo-
ment. Then she surrendered. She
tried to ask him - sharply = who
shared his home. But she could not.