Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1927-08-05
THE
GIRL WITH
A VOICE
10 by d. J. walsh.)

sometimes go out without
warning, Geraldine Stantons
life went dark. And she had no
candles In reserve to light. Her
dreams, her plans for becoming
great opera singer had been all that
she had cared for, worked for, lived
for.
81 have been a fool |" she told her
self In bitterness of heart as she came
out of the studio building onto the
street. "a stupid fool"
Now that at last she faced the
truth-had been forced to face tit
seemed incredible that she could have
deluded herself so long, But so OBJ
sessed had she been with ambition to
succeed that she had steeled her
spirit against all dlscouragements;
made herself believe that M. Mar
ceau's sarcasms and seedlings were
impersonal; that his periodic TRADES
of despair over her were merely tenn
peramental outbursts.
But that morning he had spoken
plainly and calmly.
1t was his calmness, so unusual In
the excitable Frenchman, that carried
weight and conviction.
81 am obliged to tell you, made
moiselle, that no longer will I con-
tinue to give you the lessons. It
would be the waste of time and the
money. You have not the voice.
There are other teachers that you can
20 to, yes" he continued with shrug
In response to her indignant rejoinder.
"But Monsieur Marceau, he Is not the
mechanic who manufactures the pho
nograph. He is the artist whose work
1t Is to produce the real musician" He
gave a sad shake of the head. "The
-pOlntment, mademoiselle, 1t is
mine as well as yours. I have done
how do you say itf-my best level,
but the voice. 1t Is not there to de-
vel-op. Mon dleul" - the calmness
broke into excited bits at last-"what
wOnld / give to discover voice that
would pour out music from the soul as
the song Of the bird That would
soar like the notes Of the skylark up
from the earth below to the heaven
above Such 'find,' mademolselle,"
he concluded, tears In his eyes, ut
would crown my life's work With the
happiness"
In the fierce haste of one who is
driven, Geraldine walked up one
street and down another. she had no
goal. She was scarcely conscious Of
the direction her steps took. She
walked because in her state Of des-
peration action Of some kind was i'm
perative! the idea Of returning to her
apartment and sitting still with her
thoughts was maddening.
At last she was brought to an alb
rupt halt. The street she was on had
come to an end. She had reached the
waterfront.
II was not the familiar thorough
fare of changing electric cars and hur-
rAlng crowds, where boats carrying
commuters piled to and from suburbs
IN the other side of the bay. As she
lnGkrd blankly about her Geraldine
reco nzcd the locality as the italian
quarter fur from the center of town.
..,h directly ahead of her, dark
harrow strip like long, straight ar
ross. i wharf frequented by fishermen
pointed out into the water.
~ That hour Of the day the wharf
was deserted and In the same purpose
less way Geraldine walked out to its
end.
There was IA stiff wind blowing that
whipped the bay into whltecaps,
while against the pier the water
slapped and swished in high flung
spray.
IA your hard wOrk-all the money
nntl time that you have given to your
singing has been thrown awayl You
haven't the voice r. II slap-slapped at
her. "You thought you we're going to
be great singer, didn't your" de-
rlsively 1t swIsh-swlshed what. a
Joke! Why. you are complete fall
ure! You have no future You have
nothing to live for"
Geraldine's walk was no longer pur-
poseless. She knew now why she had
come to the waterfront. Why she had
come out to the end of the wharf.
She had no future. Nothing to live.
And she could not-would not bear
the agony of her present suffering any
longer
She turned and looked back, hest
tating.
No fear OF death detained her; no
sense OF shame at playing the coward.
But she did not wish to run any risk
OF being rescued after she had taken
the fatal plunge. To be dragged out
Of the water; hurried off in a police
patrol wagon to an emergency hos
pltaI would be the last stroke OF ig-
noniny.
A motor truck was rumbling along
the street that she had left-would
soon pass out Of sight. From a little
green patch Of park farther back the
shrIlI squeal OF children at play
rpnclird her But there was little like.
llhood Of any Of these seeing or heed
Ing.
.hc turned and faced the water
re,'.n.
there are other teachers you can
60 10. yes" II shipped at her. "But
Monsieur Marreuu, he is not the me
rinn!c who manufactures the pho
irglupli He II the artist whose work
II Il 20 produce the real musiclanw
II swis,,ed In derislon. "And you
hiyPai flr voice.
in,pr famed IN her heart a child
1 : NJ - III ln1.nIInn n