The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1917-08-30

begged. 'T am not playing tonight.
May Enser Is going on In my place. We
arranged Il week ago. l had two
fines 10 pay on Saturday, and haven't
had a decent meal this week. But
had forgotten" she broke of, with
sudden note Of disappointment In her
tone. There's your brother. mustn't
tnke you away from him"
Wen all have dinner together
John suggested you'll come, OF
course, Stephen
Stephen shook his head.
Thank you" he said, Il am due at
my hotel. I'm going back to Cumber-
land tomorrow morning, and my errand
is already done"
"YOu will do nothing of the sortr
John declared.
"Please be amlable," Sophy begged.
"If you won't come with us, shall
simply run away and leave you with
John. You needn't look at your
clothes" she went on. ave can go 10
grillrOom. John sha'n't dress, either.
I want you to tell me all about Cum
berland, where this brother OF yours
lives. He doesn't tell us half enough J!
John passed his arm through his
brothers and led him away.
"Come and have a wash, old chap"
he said.
They dined together at Luigfs, a
Nrfn o.
tween the two men, supplying dis
tinctly alien note. She was always
gay, always amusing, but although she
addressed most of her remarks to
Stephen, he never once unbent. He ate
and drank simply, seldom speaking OF
himself or his plans, and firmly mega
tiving all their suggestions for the re-
mainder of the evening. Occasionally
he glanced at the clock. John became
conscious of a certain feeling OF curl
oSity, which In a sense SOphy shared.
"Your brother seems to me like
man with n purpose" she said, as they
stood in the entrance hall on their way
out of the restaurant. Like a prophet
with mission perhaps should say"
John nodded. In the little passage
seemed to dwarf the pasSers-by. The
men, in their evening clothes and pallid
faces, seemed suddenly insignificant,
and the women like dolls.
"For the last time, Stephen" John
said, won't you come to a music hall
with us2"
81 have made my plans for the eve
ming, thank yOu," Stephen replied,
holding out his hand. "GOOd night"
He left them standing there and
walked off down the Strand. John, look
ing after him, frOwned. He was con-
sciOus of certain forebodlng.
81 suppose" SOphy sighed, as they
waited for a taxiCab, 1--WE shall spend
the remainder Of the evening In the
usual fashion"
do you mind" John asked.
NO" she assented resignedly. THAT
play will end by making a driving
idiot of me. If Louise is tired tonight,
though, warn you that / shall insist
upon supper"
ITS a bargain" John promised.
"Well drive Louise home, and then Til
take you back to Luigl's. We haven't
been out together for some time, have
we?
She looked up at him with little
grimace and patted his hand.
"YOu have neglected me-" she said
II think all these fine ladies have
turned your head"
She drew little closer to him and
passed her arm through his. John
made no responsive movement. He was
filled with resentment at the sensation
of pleasure that her affectionate ges-
ture gave him.
The curtain was up and the play in
progress when they reached the box
that John had taken for the season.
The spell of it all, against which he
had so often fought, came over John
anew. He set his chair back against
the wall and watched and listened, n
veritNble sense of hypnotism creeping
over his senses. Presently the same
impulse which had come to him so
many times before induced him to turn
his head, to read in the faces of the au-
dience the reflection Of her genius. He
had often watched those long lines OF
faces changing, each in its own way,
under the magic of her art. Tonight
that his search had a special object.
Suddenly he gripped the arms of his
chair. In the front row of the pit, sit
ting head and shoulders taller than the
men and women who lOunged over the
wooden rest In front of them. was
Stephen. More than ever, among these
inappropriate surroundings, he seemed
to represent something almost patri-
archal, fOrbidding and disapproving
spirit sitting in judgment upon some
modern and unworthy wantonness. His
face, stern and grave, showed little
sign of approval or diSapprOval, but to
Johns apprehending eyes the critical
sense was there, the verdict fore
doomed. He understood as in a flash
that Stephen had come there to Judge
once more the woman whom his broth
er desired.
The curtain went up again and the
play moved on, with subtle yet inevita-
b.? dramatic power. toward the hated
and dreaded crisis.
The play came to an end presently,
amid storm of applause. The grim
figure in the front Of the pit remained
motionless and silent. He was one of
the last to leave, and John watched his
retreating figure with a sigh. SOphy
drew him away.
I'VE had better hurry round" she