Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1901-07-25
THE END OF THE PLAY.
By Mrs. PouItney BigeIow.
!, CURIOUS play to bring a young

n girl to, isn't it?
She doesn't understands; she's q
saint. All her life she has been in
the depths of Cornwall This is the
first time she has ever been allowed
to stay in London"
why did you bring her here?"
Because she insisted upon coming
to see Mrs Calthorpe. Saw her photo
in the Burlington Arcade, and said
h must see her play. Look at her
nowl Isn't she a picture? She's so
i~nnocenti"
Col Eastwood, in the back of the
box, watched Daphne Brooke, sitting
in the front. He could understand
how the girl appealed to kind, world
ly Lady Rainbury, though he could
not imagine why Mr.. BROOKE had con-
fided his precious, long-sequestered
daughter to a comparative stranger.
Mrs. Calthorpe lean to play
something else, rather nicer for the
young person." continued Lady Rain
bury, in a whisper, but this thing
was substituted at the eleventh hour.
DO you think Daphne's shocked?"
The girls eyes, round and clear,
with a sort of inner light shining
through them, were fixed on the
stage. She sat very straight in her
youthful white frock, which was I'M
ornamented save by the young, firm
figure which rounded it's lines-a girl
the sight of whom recalled every
hackneyed simile of May buds. spring,
dawn-every synonym for freshness,
health, purity.
Mrs. Calthorpe was going through
a scene with her lover, the usual lover
of the usual married woman of the
usual French play. She was the par
tial wreck of a beautiful society wom-
an. Fifteen years ago she had tired
of her husband and left him. She
was stage mad, and the one indie
structible article of her creed was
faith in her own genius. She was her
own sole worshiper, though not her
only fatterer. She did not go alone.
An actor high enough in his art to
have known better undertook to
launch her. A prince smiled upon her
first professional appearance, and the
public, unfortunately, smiled, too.
She had kicked away her world, and
the other one which she wished to
was not at her feet. Her
companion, who had the face of a
priest and the reputation of a lady
killer, was still faithful. There were
lear years which sowed white hairs
in Marion C~althorpe's gorgeous
tresses, and drew anxious lines in
what was once the loyliest brow in
London. Dye, grease-paint, facial
massage, CLOSED over the damage for
a time. The soft, rose-tinted face
became the wooden, haggard, thickly
roughed eountenance now known to
play-goers; but the figure kept its
litheness, the manner still told OF
breeding.
And now Daphne Brooke was in a
theater. two-thirds full of paper and
one-third of people who came to see
Worth gowns, and to gloat upon the
changes wrought by the lean years.
There was something about the &C
tress which made the young girl want
to cry. 1t was not only that the part
seemed to her foolish and wicked and
dulI; there was a tragedy in h great
eyes deeply underlined with black.
How terrible" thought Daphne,
IF she was some ones motheri"
She herself had never known her
mother; she did not even possess a
picture of her. Her father did not
her to talk about her. His
grief was still toe fresh.
When the act was over Daphne
turned to Col. Eastwood.
"Can you tell me about Mrs. Cal
thorpe?" she asked, wistfully. lis
she married t. the man who acts with
herr"
"A-no,' said the colonel. NO; he
is her leading a you understand.
A theatrical expression, you know.'
At don't like him. I'm sorry for
her." said Daphne, simply. Are most
plays like this?"
"Certainly not" said the colonel.
Sew are so dull or immoral"
at is immoral" said Daphne,
thoughtfully. 1T isn't a nice idea
that q married woman can talk like
that to q man." She blushed a little.
afraid of having meddled with sub
jects beyond her knowledge.
s.Isn't she d~eliciousi" murmured
Lady Rainbury. You don't see
like that at the Lands End,
do you. Daphne?" she added, in .
higher key.