Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 229, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 September 1914 — CRY FROM AUDIENCE [ARTICLE]

CRY FROM AUDIENCE

By BEATRICE YORK HOUGHTON.

(Copyright.) The woman with the wistful eyes ’looked round the theater, then turned to her companion with a sigh. He, however, was Intently studying the program, and hts frowning brow did not Invite interruption, so she turned once more to the stage. She felt distinctly -aggrieved that on this, one of the rare nights when they afforded a trip to the vaudeville, there should be anything dull In any of the performances. The wistfulness of her eyes showed how she longed for anything that might break the monotonous routine of her life. The man, who was William Trail and her husband, whispered Impatiently: "Do stop fidgeting, Evelyn." j "It’s such a poor show,” she whlsipered back. "The next stunt’s sure to be good,” he replied. "You can’t expect everything to be first-class, especially In a stock performance.” Evelyn looked up at the singer Impatiently, wondering how much longer the song would be. Then she was caught and held by the actress’ utr ‘ter lack of verve, by her Ustleesness and evident distaste for her employment. Evelyn watched the singer with a new interest She was Mlle, de Bray on the program, danseuse and raconteuse.

She had walked deliberately onto the stage, had told a scarcely funny story in a lifeless voice, and had then Itegun, without further preliminaries Km the equally lifeless song. s She seemed to be entirely without makeup. Her dress was carelessly put on, her hair brushed anyhow, and her hollow eyes and white cheeks (showed ghastly In the limelight. As she droned on, Evelyn found (herself wondering what place this tragic face and figure could have on the lively vaudeville stage. Why should a reputable house have engaged het? Mlle, de Bray began on the chorus of her song and on the half-hearted gyrations which evidently established her claims to a danseuse. Evelyn yawned behind her program land glanced at her husband. His frown made her feel like a very small, very naughty girl. The singer began on the second verse of her song. “Oh, goodness gracious!** thought Evelyn. “Will she never get through?” A momentary bustle caused by some late comers distracted the audience for a space, but the lifeless voice droned on. Then there happened something which stirred the entire house, brought William Trail from his frowning displeasure with a start, and roused Evelyn to the eagerest interest. For a little girl, one of the late comers, had lumped to her feet with a tense cry of joy. “My mamma!" she shrieked excitedly. “Oh, It Is—it Is my mamma! ’ The woman upon the stage stopped singing as though shot. She looked like an automaton .suddenly galvanlized Into life. Her fate expressed rapidly the gamut of emotions from the daze of son-comprehension, to the dawning of a joy almost too great She stood quite still, straining toward the part of the theater from whence the cry of the little child had come, listening with parted lips and panting breast for a repetition of It In the dead silence the elderly woman with the child could be heard hushing her to silence, while the little thing, half-abashed, began to cry. "Helen,” breathed Mlle, de Bray at last "Oh, Helen, can It be you? The lights blind me, but surely, surely that was your voice. Speak to me again, my darling—my darling—■" The agonized tones rose to a scream of supplication. The audience sat breathless. The elderly woman, embarrassed past endurance, rose and began to push the unwilling child down the aisle. The little girl made a desperate struggle and succeeded In wrenching herself free. Sobbing loudly, she ran toward the stage. Mlle, de Bray leaned far out over the footlights, and the child reached up her tiny arms. The first violinist lifted her high, and tn another moment she and the singer were clasped ta a close embrace. There was nothing left of droning iMfelessness about the singer now. AH woman and all mother, In utter selfforgetfulness she sobbed and cooed iover the little girl. The elderly woman in the aisle spoke in troubled tones. "I s*pose you mnst be her mother,” •ho said doubtfully. “Oh, I am —I am,” cried Mlle, de ißray, lifting a radiant face to the leager crowd. Then a realization of her position seemed to dawn upon her. ask your pardon," she cried, springing to her feet, and still retaining her hold upon the child as though afraid to let her go. She laughed a delicious little laugh/ 3, "I owe you all the explanation,” she began, and her voice and her face were alive and glowing, and her •harm was unmistakable "I lost my little Helen six months ago. There Was an accident, you remember? A street ear collided with a taxt Ton •■rely remember.”

She paused as though for answer, and then resumed. *T was hurt They carried me up to the hospital and all that I know is, that when I woke up from my long Illness no one could tell me anything at all about my little girl. They thought that I had dreamed her.” Suddenly her manner changed from the joyous to the accusing. She addressed herself to the elderly woman still standing uncertainly In the aisle. "And you kept my baby,” she cried. “You kept her from me when my heart was breaking. What right had you? What right?" The elderly woman stiffened, and In her turn lost consciousness of the audience. She was the guilty before her judge, and she began her justification. "I had every right," she said Indignantly. '1 took the child home with me. I seen she was all alone, and they said you were dead. She was so pretty I wanted her real bad, and I done my best for her. You can see that .“Then when they printed all that about your coming to and wanting her, I just couldn’t give her up. And I feel I did right. An actress Isn’t no sort of a mother for a little girl toi have. "I just couldn’t give her up,” repeated the elderly woman. "And I’m. awfully sorry I come In here tonight She begged so, and I saw there were trained animals on the program—” Mlle, de Bray still stood silent* caressing with one hand the child who nestled against her skirts. The audience still sat In its trance of in-* terest.

The elderly woman’s troubled eye# roved over the faces about her, ovex' the faces farther off, settling at last on the happy mother and child. "I s’pose I did wrong," she said at last In a stifled sort of voice. "But I never did approve of actors. It’ll just about break my heart to give Helen up. Will you let me see her sometimes?" "You kept her from me,” said the actress simply, but tn the one short sentence lay all the agony she had endured. The elderly woman seemed to accept it as her answer, and she walked slowly down the aisle and through the door Into the lobby. The actress stood quite still until the door had shut. Then she breathed a long sigh of relief, and spoke again with the winsome joyousness of a happy woman In her voice. "With your permission we will go now,” she said. "Tomorrow night Helen and I will dance together for you. But not now —•" The silence which followed her withdrawal testified to the appreciation of the audience for her newfound Joy. Evelyn smiled happily into her husband’s eyes, and he forgot to frown. Perhaps they could enter more deeply Into the sorrow and happiness of Mlle, de Bray than people who were not childless. Later, as they were walking down the street together, Evelyn dared to speak out some of her thoughts about it all, and her husband was appreciative, though he grumbled a little as was his wont. “That’s just like a woman," he commented. "Wants to know how people have suffered just for the sake of seeing them happy at the end." Evelyn pouted. “I hate common planeness,” she said, then, “Oh, Will, see—” she cried, and stood quite still. For, strolling happily toward them down the street, were Mlle, de Bray, little Helen, and the elderly lady. As they came up Evelyn could not forbear to speak. “I am so glad for you," she cried to Mlle, de Bray, "and I am so very, very glad that you have forgiven‘her.’’ She indicated the elderly woman. "That Is the loveliest part of It all. I wish all the audience could know of it." Mlle, de Bray stood looking at Evelyn with a quizzical smile. But whatever she may have Intended to say was never said. Helen had taken the reins. "Don’t I do It fine?" she asked proudly. “Mamma say-I’m going to be a great actress when I grow up.” And strangest of all, when Helen said mamma she took the hand of the elder lady. "I don’t understand," said Evelyn. Mlle, de Bray laughed shortly. "Why, that was our act,” she explained. “I’m not in the regular stock, though I let on that I am. Tm on the road, and we give this each first night It’s the greatest drawing card —■" - f "And was there any accident?" asked Evelyn. "There’s always accidents,” laughed' Mlle, de Bray. "Sometimes they’re a* year back and sometimes a month. 1 Just so I can strike on a big one, it’s all the same for my act." "Oh,” breathed Evelyn. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed, ’ said Mlle, de Bray kindly. "I wouldn’t have let on if Helen hadn’t given It away. This here’s my mother, too,; and Helen Is my Uttlest sister. Come and see us dance tomorrow night.” But Evelyn could not answer. In the wistfulness again of her eyes,' and In the tired dfoop of her mouth, could be read all of her disappoint-, ment and chagrin. And for once her; husband understood. He bade the actress and her people good-night tor his weary little wife, and when he had opened their own door, he stooped and kissed that little mouth right where the droop was. And he said not one word about Evelyn’s disillusionment, not one si»>