The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1905-10-15
xxi.
The Drama Unrolls.

rio, he always accompanies It with
drawings, crude or otherwise, Of the
various set-scenes and curtains known
as drops. To the unititiated these
scrawls would look impossible; but to
the stage managers keen, imaginative
eye a whole picture Is represented in
stage is labeled alphabetically; thus A
may represent sofa, B a window, G
q table, and SO forth and so on. I am
not q dramatist; I am not writing an
acting drama; so find that a diagram
Of the library in Senator Blacks house
is neither imperative nor advisable.
It is half after eight; the. curtain
rises; the music Of a violin is heard
coming from the music room; Colonel
Of the wood fire, his chin sunk on his
breast, his hands hanging listlessly on
each side Of the chair, his face deeply
lined. From time to time he looks at
the clock. I can imagine no sorrier pic
ture than that Of this loving, tender
hearted, wretched old man as he, sits
there, waiting for Karloff and the ign o.
winds, poverty leering into his face,
shame drawing her red finger across
his brow, honor In sackcloth and
And but two short years, age, there
had not been in all the wide land q
more contented man than himself, g
man with a conscience freer. God!
Even yet he could hear the rolling,
whirring ivory ball as it spun the circle
does not recall the intermediate steps OF
his fall, only the first step and the
last. In his waking hours the colonel
always heard the sound Of it, and it
ratified thru his troubled dreams. He
could not understand how everything
had gone as it had. It seemed 1mposs-
sible that in two years HI he had d hSa
cared his child. It was all so like, 9
horrible dream. If only he might
W Wyike;A? If only God would BE 50 merci:
full as to permit him to wake! he hid
his face. There is no hell save CON
science makes it.
The music laughed and sighed and
laughed. It was the music Of love
and youth; joyous, rolicking, puls1ns
music.
Tie colonel sprang to his feet sud
suffocating. The veins gnarled on his
neck and brow. There was In his heart
a pain as Of many knives His arms
fell: Of what use was it to struggle
He was caught, trapped in a net OF his
own continuing.
.,. Softly he crossed the room and stood
, by the portiere beyond which. was tbs
music room. She was happy, happy il
her youth and ignorance; she could play
all those sprightly measures, her spirit
as light and conscience free; she -coule
sing, she could laugh, she could dance
And all the while his heart was break
ing, breakingl
Pillow shall I face her motherq"l he
groaned.
The longing which always seizes tn,
came over him. IF only he dared rusl
in there, throw himself at her feet, ant
stammer forth his wretched talel Sh'
was of his flesh, Of his blood; when sh'
knew she would not wholly condm1
him No, mol He could not
She honored and trusted him now; sh'
had placed him on so highn, 2 pedesta
that it was utterly impossible for hin
to disillusion her young mind, to Sc
for ever and ever the mute reproacl
in her honest eyes, to feel that thoug]
his arm eneircled her she was beyon'
could not tell this child of the blac]
gulf he had digged for himself and he1
Sometimes there came to him tn
thought to put an end to this madden
ing grief, by violence to period thi
miserable existence. But always h
cast from him the horrible thought. n
was not coward, and the cowardice o
suicide was abhorrent to him. Povert,
, he might leave her, but not the legac:
of suicide. If only it might be God
kindly will to let him die, once thi
abominable bargain was contaminated
Death is the seal Of silence; it lock
dead. And she might live in ignorance