The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1908-02-27
TIE EVENING STORY


The Morning After.
| (By Cecily Allen.)
~ was the very irony of fateI
| victor Marshall stood before the bill
tering. 's11 iee-
MISS MAUDE MOWRY
| VIOLINISTE
MOZART HALL
nossDAY EVENING. FEBRUARY q
| Cnoer the patronage Of the Countess
| OF Carchester. Mrs. Peter Wolr De
Iuyster. Mrs. Roger StandbiIt. Mrs.
| Porter Osbourne- Smith.
| Tickets, So, 50 and 81.
Marshall glanced from the billboard
" ms watch and then signaled for a
| CAP. He had meant to walk in leisure
| ~ FASHION to his hotel, but matters had
suddenly turned urgent. His room en-
| gagged. ne turned toward the flower
| shop at the far end Of the electrically
| Hgnted corridor. Nothing in the whole
snop seemed worthy of the Maude he
! nao known. The orchids dropped even
IN the refrigerator. The stems of the
| american beauties were too short. The
PINK roses were too deep in tone. They
would clash with the delicate tint of
| ner cheeks. He finally settled on lilies
OF the valley and California violets.
Ihen he hurried over to the stand
Wnere theater tickets were sold. No,
| tney never carried tickets for Mozart
| nall, but they would send a messenger
| for one.
| BY 7:30 Marshall was Tuning over his
toiet; mat lavender tie looked too loud
by electric light and the white had
turned a queer yellowish tint He would
wear black. That was always safe.
he arrived fifteen minutes too soon,
| and watched nervously the slow gath
erlng OF the well-gowned audience.
IA cf,xs
overture the house was half empty
Marshall wondered what allied the
music-loving public of New York that
IL would take chances on missing the
| opening number by its favorite violin
| tste. And then she came out through
the narrow white and gold door and
he forgot the audience, forgot every
thing but her-her clinging white gown
frosted with pearls, her slender white
| throat.
| She was looking thinner than when
| She left McKeesport. And her face had
a wfstful expression where once 1t had
been trff1e imperious.
So much music had done for her! Like
Undine, she had found her soul, but
somehow Victor Marshall caught him
| self wondering, under the spell OF her
| playing why the kiss Of music and not
Of love had awakened that soul.
| He woke with start. The audience
was appIauding and ushers were hurry
| ing down the aisle with monstrous
| floral offerings. American beauties with
stems three and four feet long, over
| topped by golden chrysanthemums.
Victor Marshall leaned back grimly
| in his chair. What were SO worth of
lilies and violets in New York?
| The piece de resistance of the concert
was over, a concerto in which the vio-
| liniste had outshone the popular string
| sextet.
Marshall reached for his hat Part of
the audience was making for the en-
| trance, exclaiming the personalities of
regular concertgoers. Another group, a
smaller one, was making its way in
| timately toward the door leading to the
| dressing rooms, obviously to congratu-
| late the star.
Impulsively Victor Marshall started
| to follow the smaller group, then stop
| one Of these men wore evening clothes.
He'd look well in his plain business
suit offering congratulations along
with countesses and society leaders.
So he went back to the hoteEbut not
to sleep. All night he fought it out
with himself. Sometimes he paced the
floor. Sometimes he stood gazing over
| the twinkling lights Of the city. And
| by morning he had found himself.
He would drop in to call upon his old
sweetheart, but in the most correct and
casual way. OF course McKeesport had
| far in her profession. The Countess of
Carchester! Mrs. Roger Standbilt! They
were names to conjure with.
| And he had thought that because he
| had won the D. r. & FIT G.. suit, he had
the world at his feet and Maude Mowry
would be glad to come back and reign
over the Queen Anne cottage he had
bought without even writing to her.
He did not dare to think of the new
bay window he had designed for the
south room, nor the rugs he had Sc
lected at the Mechanical exposition,
nor the Marshall mahogany he had
bought from the rest of the heirs.
1t was in the afternoon when. re-
freshed by Turkish bath and a thick
beefsteak he felt fit to present himself
at the studio of Miss Maude Mowry,
Violiniste." Under the very caves of a
very towering studio building and in
the dim light Of fading day and shaded
electroliers it seemed to radiate that
vague artistic atmosphere of which
Victor Marshall had read much.
Maude was glad to see him. IN
feignedly, frankly glad, and Marshall
argued that it was the proper attitude
old time friends. He leaned back in
the carved French chair where he
could keep the masses Of fragrant
floral offerings in full view to temper
against personalities and reminis-
cences.
But try as he would to talk glitter
ing generalities, Maude steadily and
persistently led the conversation back
to McKeesport, old friends and what
Marshall felt was the danger zone for
himself. He would not tell her of the
D. r. & FIT. G. case, because she might
guess that behind this triumph lay his
hearts secret, the years of work for
her. oh, no, he would be game. and
as coolly worldly as herself.
The chimes in nearby church
tower rang 6, and he rose abruptly.
I'm going back tomorrow" he be-
gan.
Tomorrow Her voice was a
bit faint and toneIess. She was bury
ing her face in his vioIets.
Eyes; I just ran on to see al
man on business.