For this she had not calculated when she resolved to go upon the stage.

The odium she incurred even by making an appearance in any guise, however modest, was sufficient to try her courage to the utmost; but now-to appear in the garb of a boy-how could she do it?

What would Charlie think?

Yes, there was a Charlie. There always is.

Charlie was a well-dressed, good looking young fellow, who was a charming beau in society, danced divinely, and had just about brains enough to carry him safely through the German.

Carrie Lee was in love with this young man (girls will do these things), and they were engaged to be married.

Charlie thought it a noble act of graciousness on his part that he should permit Carrie to support herself by going upon the stage. Of course, now that Carrie was cast for the part of Arthur, Charlie must be consulted.

That evening Charlie called, and found her with her Shakespeare before her, busily engaged in putting the words of Arthur in her memory.

Well, the pretty young gentleman's feelings when he discovered the dreadful state of affairs, may be imagined. In vain Carrie tried to represent to him the necessities of the case. Charlie was sulky.

"I tell you I don't like it for you to be stared at by a whole houseful of people dressed like that! And I won't have it. There!"

"Do you suppose I like it, Charlie?" said the poor girl, her heart almost ready to break. "It is necessity with me. I must do it."

"Now, Carrie," said this nice young man, with the delicate instincts of a brute; "you know that I'm displeased with this whole matter, anyway. People know that I'm engaged to you, and it hurts my position. But

now for you to go and play a man's part-why I'm not going to stand it now-that's all there is about it!"

Selfish creature! Is it not a wonder Carrie did not dismiss him then and there? But what will not a woman overlook in the man she loves?

The poor girl, with tears in her eyes, tried to talk over this stubborn fellow, who-however much we may excuse his natural repugnance to seeing his fiancée on the stage in a boy's dress-was actuated so thoroughly by a pitiable. selfishness, that he could not see how necessity goaded the young girl he professed to love.

"It hurts me, Charlie, more than you know, to play this part, or even to play any part. Do you think it is pleasant for me to go upon the stage in the most novel and trying position in which a woman can be placed? Ah, do have sympathy for me! Do you, I entreat of you, even if no one else can be moved to pity me!"

For the moment the man seemed to be touched, and he went away leaving a ray of hope in the poor girl's breast that, after all, oh, wondrous boon! she might be able to keep both her lover and her situation at the theatre.

But the pretty-faced, blonde-whiskered fellow was true to his own selfish instincts when he was once removed from the softening influence of the poor girl's tears. No, no, he was not going to allow this sort of thing to go on any longer.

He stayed away from Carrie day after day-he who had been in the habit of calling at least once in every twentyfour hours-and Carrie's heart sank within her as time passed and still he did not come.

At length, on the very evening which was to see her debut in the part of Arthur, she received a letter from him. A thrill of joy shot through her breast as she received it; but a film passed across her eyes, when she read: "I have concluded it will be best to break off our en

gagement. I think I have made a mistake about you. I have been consulting some of my friends, and they think I'd better not marry-an actress."

The letter fell to the ground. Her hands were pressed for an instant over her burning eyes, and then-it was The veil had dropped. She would be strong.

over.

She had loved him-oh, how dearly she had loved him! but now he had shown her his baseness at one glance, and she would forget him, like a brave and self-reliant girl.

He who should have been the staff of her steps, the pillar of her strength, was weaker than the broken reed, and had failed her at the point of her sorest necessity. She would show him that she could live and do her duty

without him.

Almost as in a dream-a dream as of one who has wandered far from all delights, she dressed herself for the part of Arthur, and walked upon the stage-into the glare of the footlights-into the presence of a thousand eyeswith the dream still on her.

Those who remember how Carrie Lee looked on that night of her debut, will bear me out in the assertion that in spite of her unaccustomed dress, she was wonderfully lovely with her fair hair curling about her head, her pleading eyes full of sorrow, and her face of a marble whiteness.

A murmur of applause ran through the audience at sight of her; but she was unconscious alike of applause

or censure.

Hubert, the chamberlain, is commissioned by King John to put out the eyes of Arthur with red-hot irons. At the beginning of the fourth act Hubert enters, bearing the irons, which he conceals behind him. At the same moment Arthur enters.

In a low, musical voice, Carrie spoke:

"Good-morrow, Hubert."
"Good-morrow, little prince."

A TOUCH OF NATURE.

157

The scene which followed was played by the fair debutante with a pleasing degree of pathos, and it was evident Carrie was making a good impression on her audience. Still it was not an extraordinary ability which she displayed; until the moment when she was speaking the lines

"Nay, you may think my love was crafty love—”

When, lifting her sad eyes mechanically, there in the stage box she saw her lover-sitting, a picture of sullen displeasure, with some of the friends who had coaxed him to come and see the debut of the girl he had cast off.

Ah, girlhood is weakness, and love is strong! She thought she could put him away without a struggle. But now, at the sight of him, there came back upon her heart all the memories of her love-all the miseries of her situation.

Oh! This was cruel. He might have spared her this. Was it not enough that he had cast her so rudely off— that now he must come to exult in public over her anguish and embarrassment! What had she done that he should use her thus? She had been to him all trust-all faithall kindness.

And as these bitter thoughts filled her mind, she fixed her eyes on his, and speaking the words of Arthur as her memory mechanically retained them, spoke still to her lover, sitting there, unable to turn his eyes away.

But she spoke no longer with the tame pleasingness of a mere pretty maiden uttering her part: the words came forth as if wrung from her soul, and her voice was filled with tears:

"If Heaven be pleased, that you must use me ill,

Why, then, you must:

Will you put out mine eyes?

These eyes that never did, nor never will, so much as frown on you?"

158

THE TABLES TURNED.

There was a visible sensation in the audience. Here was a fine touch of art.

It was such a touch of nature that the recreant lover, thrilled to his selfish heart, drew back in irrepressible agitation, and a moment after left the box.

The chord had been struck, however, to which vibrated in true response the sympathies of her audience, and Carrie Lee's portrayal of the rest of the part was such that her debut was an unheard-of success.

As for the lover who didn't want to marry an actress, it is very well known in his circle that after that debut he did want to marry an actress; and it is equally well known in his circle that the actress told him "no! she would never marry a moral coward!"