The Saint Paul globe., 1903-08-06

backed the new musical extravaganza.
1.-The Queen Of the Cannibai Isles,
Lorraine Lerance going to leave the
stage In the midst of the biggest
Broadway success In years? Is she
crazy, or what?"
"She is a woman" replied the man
ager, succinctly, as if that explained
everything. He glanced around the lit
tie Office whose walls were literally
covered with the photogra aphs of ac-
tresses-prima donnas. tragedy queens,
eccentric old women in comedy parts.
dashing soubrettes, wistful eyed en-
genues-and sighed. He had had much
experience of the ways Of women.
"Such voice." went on the Angel,
gloomily reminiscent, always made me
think of birds singing In a golden
dawn, or-er-er-something like that,
you know, it was so full of the joy of
living. Then her gayety and humor-
so spontaneous, so fresh. and that little
way she had, so demurely wicked, by
George, it was about the most fetching
thing l ever saw"
1T takes a saint to play the devil"
commented the manager, grimly.
And to think of her being fool
enough to throw everything up right
now" continued the Angel, why, man.
she's got success-it's In her very
hand"
WELL" observed the manager. 'ff.
when heaven gave a woman tempera-
ment. it would also endow her with a
little reason. 1t would have saved me
from becoming bald so early in life, and
would have made the show business a
safer and more agreeable occupation"
What does she saya' inquired the
Angel lso4 zs59o se
The manager fished letter out from
under a pile on his desk. and began to
read aloud Sorry she can't renew her
contract with us, and that we will have
no trouble in finding a substitute for
her in The Queen but she's found
out that there's something better than
the tinsel of the stage, and more worth
striving for than fame or money"
Wish she'd tip me off to what it is,"
put in the Angel. parenthetically.
I'm short" continued the manager.
summarizing the lengthy letter, she has
determined to leave the stage, and stay
at home with hubby-you know that in
real life she is Mrs. James Benton
and darn his socks and cook his din
ners." 4a o7ts}911
where is si,e?" asked the Angel.
"Oh," responded the manager, "at
some little iron mines down in Ala
bama, where her husband is manager
for a company. It's a gay metropolis
that consists of company store. with
the postoffice in one corner, and an in
teresting population of a thousand ne
gro and Italian iaborers. with perhaps
two other men beside her hnst.""d who
wear collars and speak fair English,
and where the exciting event Of the
day is the change of shifts when the
day laborers go off and the night hands
come on AT least that is the alluring
description that the Torrance gave me
of the place when she explained how
she came to leave her happy home for
New York and comic opera.
"She won't stay there" exclaimed the
Angel bringing his fist down on the
desk with thump. Good God, think
of woman like that being buried
alive in such hole. She'll be back in
two months begging for her old part.
and we will make her pay for having
given us this attack Of heart failure"
Don't count. on her too much" "
warned the manager, shes woman.
you know"
While the two men in the little
Broadway office were settling her fate.
the woman of whom they spoke was
standing on great pile Of Stag. send
ing her voice out in a roulade of song
that silenced for very shame the mock
ing birds in the nearby oleanders. AT
last wearied, she stopped and, turning
to the great ugly bulldog that crouched
at her feet. she cried whimsicaliy:
What, Tige, not round of ap-
plause? Don't you know, sir, that was
my big Broadway hit, and was good
for three curtain calls every night?''
But the faithful dumb animal only
licked her hand by way of reply, and
with something like a sob,- she caught
her fingers in his collar and started
homeward. It was all SO typical of
her fate, she told herself She had
wanted fames and glitter, and glare.
and she had gotten only dumb devo-
ton.
Five years before she had married
Jim Benton, who had taken her from
an uncongenial home. where shrewish
and vulgar stepmother had made life
well-nigh unbearable for the girl,
whose nature was as highly strung and
sensitive as a violin. She had loved as
well as her unawakened heart could.
the big, silent, strong man. who had
yearned over her with ceaseless~ SLENDER
ness, and for a while she had been
happy enough in the little cottage at
the mines where they had gone TO live.
By and by, however. she began to
grow restless, TO feel the stirring within
her of unguessed forces and powers,
and to know, as genius must always
know, that it must find expression or
die.
She was intensely, vibrantly alive,
and she had never lived. She wanted
to know, to feel. to see, to measure her
beauty against other women's, to try
the splendid power of her glorious voice
and to sway men and women with it.
She yearned and hungered for the gilt
ter of streets that were but names to
her, and to be part of the wild tide
of life that sweeps through great city.
For long time she fought against her
desire, but in the end 1t conquered her.
The deadly monotony of the life she
led, the weary sameness of the faces
she knew so well, the oft told tales of
places where nothing happens. got
upon her nerves, until she felt that she
must either commit suicide or end in a