News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1916-10-04

| were rapidly ulllnR up. Inere was q
+, fluent movement through the aisles. A
subdued hum and rustic rose from that
| portion of the audience which was al
ready seated. The business going on
upon the stage was receiving little at
tention-from Whitaker as little as
from anyone. The opening scene in
the development of the drama inter-
ested the gathering little or not at all (;
1t was hanging in suspense upon the
unfolding of some extraordinary devel-
| opment, something unprecedented and
extraneous, foreign to the play.
Max slipped quietly into the box and
handed his guest program. Better
get over here" he suggested in a
| hoarse whisper, indicating chair near
the rail. "You may never have an
other chance to see the greatest living
actress. Won / house." he whis-
pered, sitting dowr behind Whitaker.
"Drummond hasn't shown up yet,
though"
"That SOP" Whitaker returned over
his shoulder.
eyes, it's funny; never knew him to
be so late. He always has the aisle
seat, fourth row, center. But he'll be
along presently"
He glanced idly at his program, in
differently absorbing the information
that Jules Max has the honor to pre-
sent Miss Sara Law in her first and
greatest success entitled Joan Thurs
day-a play in three acts"
The audience stirred expectantly; a
movement ran through it like the
movement of waters, murmurous, up
on a shore. Whitaker's gaze was
drawn to the stage as if by an I'M
placable force. Max shifted on the
chair behind him and said something
indistinguishable, in an unnatural tone.
A woman had come upon the stage,
suddenly and tempestuously, banging
a door behind her. The audience got
the barest glimpse of her profile as,
pausing momentarily, she eyed the
other actors. Then, without speaking,
she turned and walked up-stage, her
back to the footlights.
Applause broke out like thunder
clap, pealing heavily through the big
auditorium, but the actress showed no
consciousness of it. She was standing
before a cheap mirror, removing her
hat, arranging her hair with the
typical, unconscious gestures of
weary shopgirl; she was acting-living
the scene, with no time to waste in
pandering to her popularity by bows
and set smiles; she remained before
the glass, prolonging the business, I'M
til the applause subsidized.
Whitaker received an impression as
of a tremendous force at work across
the footlights. The woman diffused an
effect as of terrible and boundless
energy under positive control She
was not merely an actress, not even
merely great actress; she was the
very soul of the drama of today.
Beyond this he knew in his heart
that she was his wife. Sara Law was
the woman he had married in that
sleepy Connecticut town, six years be-
fore that night. He had not yet seen
her face clearly. but he knew. To find
himself mistaken would have shaken
the foundations of his understanding.
Under cover of the applause, he
turned to Max.
"Who is that? What is her name?"
'The divine Sara" Max answered,
his eyes shining.
81 mean, what is her name off the |
stage, in private life?"
1.-THE same" Max nodded with con-
viction; "Sara Laws the only name |
she's ever worn in my acquaintance |
with her"
At that moment, the applause hav-
ing subsidized to such an extent that it |
was possible for her to make herself |
heard. the actress swung round from
the mirror and addressed one Of the