The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1909-10-01

rehearsed this scene Of the plAy;Shut.
except at the dress rehearsal e had
been on bare stage now the very
setting Of the scene. this gloomy, des-s
olate country place. white with win
ter's SHOWS. that was . triumph Of
scenic art, deepened that elusive
sense Of familiarity.
Surely she had lived through some
such scene as this! She had crossed
to where the body Of her lover lay:
for moment she stood speechless
after that one sobbing, stifed cry,
staring down at the figure there. Her
attitude, that was the very abandon
ment Of grief, the look on her face
family revealed in the perfectly con-
veyed Illusion Of wintry twilight, her
frozen silence Of horror-all sent, a
thrill through the audience. likes
triumph Of superb acting. ~
But was It acting? For the mo
ment the woman had forgotten the
audience, forgotten the play-what
was it Stephen Ruthen had said? In
that instant-dimly, as in dream
her fettered memory seemed to be
cropping its way back down dark,
long forgotten road to night months
ago.
Then in a flash that picture, effaced
by shock and the delirium of fever,
was back in her mind; and Olive saw
it all again, still as a sleeper sees
vision in dream-the misty highway
where the roads crossed, swept by the
white storm, and great rough-hewn
stone casting its long shadow over
something in the snow. Remembered
that, and 'more-remembered the
white, guilty face of man hiding be-
hind that stone, that for a moment
had peered out in terror at her ap-
proach; it flashed back on her now
from some dim awakened cell Of
memory. What face? Whose face?
Behind the scene Bonholt Hume
stood, hidden behind the great raking
piece against which, on the stage, the
dead man lay, startled beyond telling,
white and shaking; the scene for
him, as for the woman standing
there in silence on the stage, came
with a sense of sinister familiarity.
Instinctively he moved a step forward
to get clearer view of Olive from
behind the piece of scenery that hid
him, and her eyes fell on him for the
first time. She was not acting part;
the play was forgotten, the scene was
real to her. The sight of the white
face peering at her now had answered
that mental question.
stephen was right! I know now
he was right" the woman screamed,
flinging out wild, accusing hand at
the man whose face, full of guilty hor.
ror, had suddenly started out to meet
her eyes, as once long weeks ago that
same face had broken on her vision
from behind the great stone that had
flung it's shadow over dead Philip
Hume; that dormant memory touched
in an instant to vivid life!
Only for a moment was Olive Van
stone carried away by the overwhelm-
ing rush of memory that had flooded
the dark, long-sealed place of her
mind; Strangways and the stage-man-
ager, hearing the words that were not
in the part. had rushed to the wings
and were gesticulating frantically;
with an effort she pulled herself to-
gether and spoke the words Of the
part with an intensity of passion that
thrilled the house; the wild words Of
anguish and despair and vengeance
that ended the act rang out from her
lips; the curtain fell.
On the stage the woman still stood,
pointing that accusing hand at Bon
holt Hume, who seemed struck, bereft
of the power of speech or movement;
his face was CHASTITY; he was trem-
bling in every limb-as through the
storm of applause from beyond the
dropped curtain Olive cried, wildly.
with her dark Southern eyes agleam:
Everything comes back to me now!
1t was you saw that night hiding
after your evil deed-you who MUIR
dered Philip Hume!"
(To be continued)