THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 57, 16 June 1910, Page 6

THE STORYTELLER.

INSPIRED BY LOVE The officers of the Cornshire Rifles were entertaining a select party at afternoon ten in their pleasant ante-room overlooking the barrack-square. The conversation ted turned on .some theatricals, which, were being got up by tile officers and their friends. To the consternation of everyone, the leading .part had been given to a girl wlio could neither act nor sing, who had only been in the garrison for a short time, and who was a comparative stranger to them all. "She'll spoil everything yes, everything!" move than one. woman might have been heard to declare, after making sure that the girl was not in the anteroom, "Why was she offered the lead, Mr. Danvers?" the regimental bride enquired. "And who is she, I wonder? Anyway, our theatricals —well, at any rate, a change will have to be made in the cast, and that without delay." [ Young Danvers -smiled, "The niiViiageiiWsiit arc quite determln- 1 ed to keep things going as they lire," he said, quietly. "They gave Miss S'tone•liam the leading part because the colonel particularly wished it. If she does spoil our theatricals—well, at any rate, she will look the ipart." He broke' oft" suddenly. "She has the face of an angel." An hoitr later they left the ante-room and walked over to the regimental theatre for a rehearsal. Those who were not acting sat about in the wings, criticising the others, and wondering why Miss Stoneham had not turned -up. She did come at last, however, with Mrs. Rutherford, just as the officers' lirst dinner-bugle was sounding.

The girl glanced about her hurriedly. She felt sure they had all been talking of her. That did not matter in the least; but she saw Colonel Worley chatting with Ellen Smithers, which mattered a very great deal, though not for worlds would she have shown anything of iher pain. Her acting was worse than ever that evening. Even Colonel Worley was losing patience with her now. How could ■he.play the ardent lover to such a istern, motionless woman? She might try just once, for his sake. But she did not.

"A failure, man!" Colonel Worley said, heavily, to his senior major that night, after dinner. "A pitiful failure! And it was aJI my fault, old friend! I overpersuaded her to accept the part." Major Best was silent. "For the little woman's sake I am more than sorry, old man," the colonel went on. "She does not seem to Realise what it means; ibut she will when it is too late—when the audience have shown her what they think of her performance. What a fool I was not to try her first! And how I wish it were all over, old fellow! Heavens, how I wish it!" Many strange things were to come about, however, before the fulfilment of Colonel Worley's desire.

The night for the grand performance •of the regimental theatricals came at last. Everyone 'had secured a ticketmany, be it told, with the express purpose of witnessing the beautiful Miss Stoneham's failure. They did not like her, for to them she was a complete, unapproachable enigma. Beyond the fact that she was staying with Mrs. Rutherford indefinitely, they could glean nothing. Only Wo tilings they were absolutely sure of—she could not act, nor could she sing. This worried Colonel Worley exceedingly, especially at the eleventh hour, as she had not shown the faintest sign I of improvement at the rehearsals. "I'd: give worlds to see her chucit it even now, old man," he said, despondently, to Major Best, as he put the finishing touches to his own "make-up." "The sight of an audience might stir her into something like life," the major replied. "Playing to empty chairs is no hind of sport, Colonel." Colonel Worley shook his head. "Too late to hope for anything now, Best," he said. "The little woman no sort of a notion as to what is expected of her. She'll be hissed off the stage, man!" "Wonder why she stuck to the part, when she found sihe could not manage it!" "I'm afraid I am to blame there again; Best," was the hopeless answer. "She did say something to me about resigning; hut I felt so sorry for the littlt woman, and told her to keep the lead, promising to help her all I knew. 1 was an idiot, Best; and I'd give everything 1 possess to see her safely out- of it now. or to be aible to warn her and make her understand." Meanwhile the theatre was rapidly filling, and by the time the curtain was "rung up" the place was packed. Miss Stoneham's part was called a.il too soon for Colonel Worley r and the few who wished for her success,, despite everything. At the first moment of her appearance on the stage a low murmur of a'dmiration involuntarly went through the house. The women who had come to witness her failure, however, were laughing and whispering amongst themselves, and even tHe few who hoped for her success were conscious of an overmastering feeling of discomfort. . They were quickly approaching the love scene, which would ruin piece altogether, even in the first act, if not performed with something like moderate proficiency. ' Alice iStoneham glanced _ across the stage in the colonel's direction and saw something in his eyes he had never revealed to her before. Her heart grew suddenly very glad —a joyous song crept into it. "He loves me! He loves me! He loves me! He loves me!" Thus it ran. "He loves me—me! Not Ellen Snnthers, as people told me —no, not Ellen Smitlvers! He loves me! He loves me only!" The words rang joyously through her brain, and that night she acted her part as if inspired by some strange, indescribably delicious outside influence.

A great, impressive silence settled down on the crowded, astonished house. Magnificent! An inspiration! Women bit their lips with mad envy. Men raved and shouted their spirited applause. It came as a thunderclap to see them all—Alice Stoneham's brilliant success —more brilliant still, perhaps, because so entirely unexpected. And no one guessed the cause. How could they? Even Colonel Worley was mystified that night. But to-morrow he would know.

"You are an&ry with me, Mr. WorJt was Alice Stoncliam who spoke—lowly, but proudly. She stood before! him,' her beautiful eyes raised to his in questioning. They were alone in Airs. Rutherford's drawing-room on the evening of the day following the regimental theatricals. "No, not angry," he answered. "Then what is it?" she asked. "All the garrison is talking of your unexpected success," he said. "And, goodness knows, it was brilliant enough! I fear, Miss Stoneham, some of the women will not forgive you for a very long time—they say you have played a mean trick on us. Tliat is nonsense, of cour&e. But I should like you :to please explain." , Aild the liiglit 1. "ore she had believed that he loved he:: How strange, how unreal it seemed! How far-away and dream-like! it must have Juen a dream —so haffl" while it lasted, so miserable in the bitter av.ikening. A .dream. Sh» gazed into his eves. There tos nnthinj in them which bade her hope anew. "You have made it impossible for me to explain," she said icily. "Utterly, utterly impossible! And now good-wye, Mr. Worley, I am tired, and I am sure you have no wish to detain me." He came and stood quite close to hef in silence.

"Alice!" he whispered, at last. She looked up quickly. It was there again in -his eyes, that light of the previous night. "I was proud of your glorious success,. Alice," he said simply—"infinitely proud of it, dear. What man loving you as I do, could help font- be proud of ft. -tou know I love you, don't you? —more than my life, more than I hoped to ever love any woman. But I have hitherto kept silent, knowing well, as I do, what your answer would he. What chance could I expect to stand against a younger man ?" "Bat, Mr. Worley," replied Alice, shyly, "how could you know what my answer would he if you never asked me? And as to a younger man, I have' never met the one I should care for as a husband." The colonel waited to hear no more, hut took her on his -strong arm®, and repeated the old, old story over and over again. Then lie questioned, her ffibuuv the theatricals. "It is easy enough now, dearie, to explain,"' she murmured, happily. "You see, when you first offered me the leatl,. it was all right. I knew I could act and' sing, and felt sure that the part would' suit me. But before the first rehearsal someone told me tliat voir were in love with Ellen Smitliers. 1 had Teamed to like you very mudi myself, and it -seemed impossible to act those love scenes when you would be thinking of another. I would gladly have given up the ipartv but somehow, when you a-sked me to keep > it, I could not do otherwise. It ibrouglit me nearer to you, and that is all I wished for: Then last night. I read somet'liiug in your eyes—your love for me. I acted for you, my love—and that was the secret of my success,"" , The colonel sealed her explanation with a kiss. The Cornsfiires still discuss that brilliant -performance, and puzzle over it;' font they are not likely to guess the solution. . |