The Winslow mail., 1911-04-08
His
Criticism
BY Henry Q. Martin

Copyright, 1910 by Associated Literary Press)

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
Partisan to the last degree and. there
fore. perfect, too She had chosen it
because she had always had q 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.
And he was the only one who had
ever said it. Everybody else had
praised her to the skies-her mother
and her dearest friends and her teach
ers. 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 been,
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: I'll show himl" It
had driven her to do, painsta king1y,
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 faunt 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
-ho %s-l,oert. -;1cI sing since sne 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-that 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 2, half dozen other
men she knew almost as we'll, 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.
Mr.. 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 bowling 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-
ON twinkling with ietted 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
erS
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 its 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 All, 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
chin slightly lifted. listening closely.
She could not understand what those
oIo