The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1905-02-15
In an Opera
Box
BY Lillian c. PascbaI
Copyright. 1904. bu Lillian c. Paschal


an obelisk of light tlecks Motor ears
came and went noisily under the wide
porte cochere.
Back of the large hostelry and across
narrow alley white girlish face
banked with pillows looked out visit
fully from the one narrow window of
a third floor back at these evidences of
life and gayety, listening To the or
cheStra.
Suddenly the music burst into Wild
tropical air from Carmen" II very revel
of life and youth and lusty. red blood
ed joy. The invalid buried her tired
eyes In the soft pillows, and her thin
shoulders shook. Shaken by the tenn
pest of sobs. a crutch that had been
leaning against the bedside ratified TO
the floor.
"Oh. | can bear their old ragtime
things without shiver,' she cried,
but the opera alrs-they break my
them again-I know l shan't"
The incoherent cry went straight
through the open window like II wing
ed arrow. across the alleyway In the
grand hotel. and lodged deep In the sick
heart of listener there. Its note of
suffering aud aching longing needed no
Interpreter That IL universal Ian
guage understood alike In palace and
tenement
John Wixton had been staring mood
lily out of the darkened shadows of his
unlighted room into the still darker
shadows of n future that looked
gloomy indeed to his usually careless,
sunny eyes. lie had been hard hit
there was no doubt of that-and the
girls refusal of him had cut deep. He
had been so sure of her-too sure, per-
haps-but he had thought he could not
be mistaken in that warm light In her
eyes that had set his heart ON fire all
these weeks.
1.-THE light that lies in woman's eyes
- and lies - and lies and lies" he
sneered miserably. sitting there in the
dark. Course the whole sex, anyway,
and their deceltful wiles" And his
cllnched hands thumped the window
sill flercely He had mooned over her
aEr Numbering idiot, he told himself
hotly. and now she was engaged. so
her mother had told him the last time
he called TO Billy Lunders and his mil
lions-prlncipally the latter. he thought.
Lord! There was that beastly chan
sonnette from Carmen" again could he
never escape the thlng?-the song that
breathed SO horribly of her In every
seductive note She had Worn n red
rose In her hair. too. that night he first
met her with the Van Lorns He could
smell that rose now.
Tonight Carmen" was on the bill
again. He recalled duly that he had
the same box for this performance, in
tending to take her and show her he
remembered that first night so long
ago. She had said men always forgot
the dates a woman remembered. lie
had meant to tell her of his loving lit
tie surprise that evening. Was 1t only n
week ago? How could he ever bear to
hear an opera again? Curse ii. He
would get out of this sickening old New
York and 20 west-to Chicago any
where.
"These opera airs-they break my
hearth broke In the sobbing cry from
the window across the alley. John
raised his head to listen. Same here,
kid" he muttered heavily. It's that
lame girl-poor little beggar! She does
have u devil of IL time OF 1t. lying there
all day with hot water bags and things
around her It's shameI
~ want TO be back there on the
stage again." went on the voice, sing
ing with the rest OF the chorus. l
was n village maiden in Carmen you
know, Mrs Beebe" To the conscious
pride In this already well known fact
there came an indistinct murmur Of
consolation from the dark interior OF
the little room.
And maybe some day might have
been O Sembrich or Melba, my own
self-the master said so-and now my
backs hurt, and I'll never sing again.
know II. II | could only go just
once and hear 1t all again | think
maybe | could bear it better but to
be penned In here all the time like
rat with the snappers Of trap caught
over his back-its too The rest was
lost In the Unfolding pillow
The man In the darkened window
across the way suddenly stood up,
turned on the light and squared his
shoulders like soldier ready for
marching "Ill do it!' he said grimly.
"I'll not run away like n coward. I'll
face this thing out. I've got to go
through 1t some time. and | might as
well begin now. I'll go right to that
same box and fight 1t out. And, what's
more, I'm going to take that child
along. She'll probably look a fright,
and people will stare, but hang the
people,
He took his hat and overcoat and
hurried from the room. At the Office
he stopped to give an order for an auto
cab.
Twenty minutes later he was bowling
toward Broadway with his strange lit
tie companion, still GREATNESS over the
wondrous angel In evening clothes
whose determination had carried all
OppOSltlOu ptlOIt uIll. Even tue tat
landlady had been subdued into defer
ence and helped to dress her quickly so
as not to keep the young gentleman
waiting
Wixton glanced down at her thin lit
tie face, sharpened by suffering; at her
two crutches and her simple white
frock To his surprise, she appeared
tastefully gowned
She told him quite simply, with a lit
tie pathetic quaver In her voice, about
her ambition to be a great singer; how
she had fallen through trapdoor left
carelessly open by the stage hands one
night after the opera was over and had
been In the charity ward OF hospital,
where they had not seemed able TO
cure her; how she could walk only
little way without hurting.
When they reached the opera house
the first act was nearly over.
Wixton gathered up her slight form
and strobe up the wide stairway as If
his burden were baby. AT the door of
the box he halted II was slightly