Holbrook argus., 1911-04-04
His Criticism m
By Henry O. Martin
g 2 sss
 (Copyright. 1910. by Assoclated literary Press.

She was ready and waiting She was not nervous. She had too much confidence in herself for that She smiled serenely as she glanced again at the program in her hand. How well her name looked printed, Miss Maude Vance, soprano" Yes, taken all in all, she was quite perfect in training and figure and stage pres ence. And her dress-why, it was Parisian to the last degree and, there fore, perfect, too. She had chosen it because she had always had fond ness for pink-and she remembered that he had, too. Certainly she had thought of him. She had meant from the first to show him that she could succeed, that her voice was worth something. She had never quite forgiven him what he had said that night two years ago, when she had told him that she was going abroad to study
 Don't do it. Maude,' he had said. You haven't voice enough"
 He had said it in those very words.
 
 ever said it. Everybody else had praised her to the skies-her mother and her dearest friends and her teach CTS. They must know better than he did. Yet she could never get those words of his out of her mind. And his way of saying them! He was al ways so deadly in earnest about ev- erything. Especially about that. How angry she had beeni
 'I'll show you! she had flung back at him as she struggled to keep the tears from her eyes.
 During those two years of study that determination of hers had been ever present: 'Tll show him!" It had driven her to do, painstaking1y all the drudgery demanded of her It had kept her on her feet under the exacting eyes of the famous macs tro, who had been coaxed to accept her as his pupil, when she was ready to fall down with fatigue.
 And now she had learned all there was to learn, apparently, and had come back to show him that she had a voice and could sing, after all. She would Haunt her success in his face and, since he was fair, he would be obliged to admit it. Then she would smile at him and forgive him.
 She knew that he was out there in the audience with the rest-her mother and her cousins and aunts and the old uncle who had advanced the money for her training They were impatiently listening, she knew, to the performers that preceded her and longing for her to appear. Not one of them, except her mother, who had been her constant companion had heard her sing since she return ed. She had been very careful that they should not. She wanted to sur prise them all-him especially.
 It was curious that she should still care for his opinion she had al ways cared, even when she would not own it. What was there, aside from his love for her, that should have any weight with her whatever? He was not rich or handsome or of great in fuence, as were half dozen other men she knew almost as well, but somehow it was always his face and not theirs that she saw in her dreams.
 Miss Vance!" said the manager. Her turn had come. From beyond the stage came the diminishing ap- plause of an encore. She thought, MT. Herford must have pleased them" Then she rose, arranged her train and followed her accompanist | out upon the stage. They were all there and she faced them calmly, smiling and lowing in acknowledge ment of the whirlwind of applause that greeted her.
 There was her mother, very flushed and conscious in her new lavender satin; there was Aunt Belle, her bos- om twinkling with jetted lace; there was her cousin Violet Vance, who, too, longed to sing, and there was Uncle James, whose bounty had supplied her with French gowns and Italian teach CTS.
 There was he, with his lifted look and his white brow, from which the dark hair went back smoothly, and his clear grey eyes fixed upon her! Did he notice that her gown was pink? Or dream of it's meaning? She won dered a great many things as she stood waiting for the applause to end so that she could sing She felt eager ! to sing. She left capable of doing her best
 Her voice had never been better and the aria she had chosen was sure to please. An, there was the keynote! As she sang, she was still conscious of what was going on before her up- on the faces of the audience, which was composed largely of people she had known all her life. The general look of eager expectation had chang ed, not to one of qualification, but to one of amazement, of perplexity, al most of pain.
 The one man sat very still, with his 1 chin S1i0ht1v lifted listening closely