The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1920-12-31

49, her like glove. And the Big Man
made her murder 1t.
once, he had taught her. In her ignorance she
had married him that he might teach her. Now
she had got beyond his teaching, and he did not
know it. In his vanity he thought he had "maden
her. He lived, fattened on that thrived on the
reflected glory of her art and ghoul-like on the
woman herself.
There was no escape for her from his exactlons
OF this piece. The author was abroad in ILL
health, so he could not be present at rehearsaIs
Moreover, because this was his first play the Big
Man took liberties with 1t as might a theatrical
celebrity
This one rehearsed his wife with the assidu-
ity of an animal trainer, bullying her before the
whole company until they Uttered and then grew
silent with sympathy.
The Big Man came into the room noisily He
was always called the Big Man. The name fitted
him. He was big in physique and in self-sufi-
cheney. His face still showed signs of exaspera-
tion.
Rottenl Simply rotten !" he threw at her strid-
Ing up and down. give years of drilling things
into you, and you're dense as when married
you. You queer the business, you slur your lines
You-you haven't an ounce of the real stuff in YOU
Don't look at with that martyred expression
I'd get rid of you If we didn't have to open on
New Years Eve Now, look here Wen go through
that business In Act IL again, right here now until
you get 1t right-iny way-see? What's the cue?
| can't ask you to sacrifice yourself . (He
takes her in his arms) Come on!"
The Big Mans temper was smarting under a
recent newspaper criticism in which it was sug-
gested that in his next production he should give
premier place to his wife, He specially resented
the advice because the writer limited that the
Big Man, dramatically speaking, did not count
Come on! !" he repeated
mo"
He stared at her. She had never disobeyed him
rIx cto n
I'm too tired tonight Besides. 1 don't agree
that the scene should be played your way That
was not the authors intention"
He took her by the wrist. "By CAD you'll be
saying the play was written for you nextl"
1t had been. The author had seen her on the
stage once. He had purposely written his play
round her, because her personality had impressed
him. The Leading Woman did not know this.
Neither did the Big Man
you've got to do what 1 tell you If you're
tired, what about me?"
Rather than argue, she gave in. 1t wasn't
worth it-arguing with man who could only rea-
son like woman The worst of it was she could
see through him now. She knew he was Jealous
She knew he took perverse pleasure in trying
to queer her business" She was perfectly well
aware that could he have dispensed with her, he
would have done so; only boX-ofice receipts had
been good since he had starred her After he had
gone, the Leading Woman turned the key in The
lock Thefe was always one way by which she
could secure Oblivion of her mental sufferings Not
by morphia, or drink but by letters. score of
them, written by her, sealed but not addressed
lay in locked drawer of her escrtoire. She did
not even know the man who in them, she in
voked. Her eyes had never seen him To write
thus was one of those queer feminine impulses
chat women who suffer give way to in order to
save their hearts from breaking. They were the
only love-letters she had ever written to man.
She took up her pen now, striving for calmness
while writing to her Unknown:
"Oh, my dear, I am so terribly sad and I am
so lonely that feel like a little child crying in
the dark 1t can't go on. 1 can't bear it
much longer. Sometimes in my agony have told
myself to do as other women do, to be worldly
venai, to laugh and console myself with the first
likely man who comes my way Pride stops me-
and my deep regard for you, Unknown Shall
ever see you? VIII you ever become real, my
deal? Shall never know what love is? For now
my heart is virgin
Think of it, Half-of-My Soul wherever you are
! wife. And have never known what it is
10 love except intangbly, as l love you. That is
my punishment for having married without re-
lection. Beloved was such child, and thought
nothing mattered except my art.
Sometimes, when first began to write to you
Unknown, l used to ask myself what would hap
pen should ever meet your I know as 1 know
still, that l should recognize you, and at once.
l used TO thlnk OF myself as ever bent to the Big
Mans win. But know now that this would not
be right. He has so long forfeited my loyalty All
hat is best in me belongs to you, whoever and
wherever you are. / could not keep away if you
needed ne. And am a religious woman
All this life I am living is wrong, unnatural.
Surely 1t can't go on. I am twenty-six-oh dear
asst only twentysiX and there is nothing left to
me but work. And in work 1 cannot forget
ecause j: is emotional.
s.! am going to write little prayer here have
prsyed it waking and in my dreams. 1 send it
on the wings of my spirit, this petition of
soul, that somewhere and sometime I may see
YOU know you, if only . face in the
crowd
She was strlng up and she covered pages. CIV
Ing her emotions full play: To a woman of acute
sensbility there is something very convincing in
The idea of soulmate. 1t was that Leading
Woman's consolation and her beacon of hope
During the following weeks while the new play