The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 13, 1904, Page 2

2 THF »1\\' FP-\\CIQCO SUNDAY -+ found a somewhdt mean amusement in : | teasing the girl; “you might just ‘as ( vI{IS, the third in- well have been called Eschscholtzia stallment of To- m‘sr!rlteri reply which was on Mar- \[4, ow’s Tangle,” a’s lips was stopped by the rising of The crowded, rustling into the ! wuvw«l combination of perhaps, from the histery of \est and transferred st bodily into a k. TIndeed not the i of the fascina- ion of this remarkable es in the fact that wall the scenes -acters intimate- circumstanees, taken Ituous \;\'- Miss You ean- ‘ it elsewhere for times what it will st vou in these pages. B se in as & Greek statue's ughty, but 1 ke it mouth he your ement head frown- rew tain with up her said sharply, “I don’t ut me like that.” regarding her pro- ig eye and a slight, How crude she was and After a moment’s si- toward her and said good-humored hanter: Butterfly! Why daid terfly?” n his tone and manner at once on the old footing talk ak full of way, it sounds n't it? Fancy me being I was called after the My whole name is Mariposa Lily!” amused amazement; he repeated in “what an absurd Absurd!” said Mariposa, indignant- n’t see anything absurd about it. 7 think it very pretty. My mother I called me after the flower, the first tir she saw it. They couldn’t find a ble name for me for a long time, i then when she saw the flower she decided at once to call me after it. It's the most beautiful wild flower in Cali- fornia.” It's fortunate you were not called Eschscholtzia,” said Essex, who thought the name extremely ridiculous, and who tiled itself into silence, the subdued notes rclled out es swelling above them ing auditorium. the evening was an en- 1 to her. She had never era, and for the first time re- i what it might mean to possess a She heard tke house thunder its l_mnn and thought of he ging thus, standing alone n tha 1 stage, looking out over the sea of faces, all listening, all staring, all spellbound, hanging on the notes that fell, sweet and rich, thrilling and er lips. Could there her? Did they tell the spoke so admiringiy 1d she ever sing like f exultant conviction whisper of hope sion of her, that h her four pupils a month, couid sing of % d, had words of it seemed to her lling in her own burst out and riche the Oh, the rapture to pour out one melodious expression while a thous g this way on or voice. wiid, to r despair I could sing as well as that woman fIh ; I know I could! 1 knov CHAPTER V TF FLIGHTS Sleeps e passed since vhen Mar r from Mrs. W led on a flected by and advising sa re- Mrs vord at the e hinted in a of its production that M e closir sentence & rapid the girl to t and her e time set for was condv the sa was glad to do this, and moments’ walk across town hird street, to hear what Mrs ught wz ct of the The girl's cheeks were « 1 color as they dre office. Mrs “\.'\'ov as to do with her si had almost told her had been immensely im- her voice, and n. with Lepine Opera Company in the city, Willers fancied he wa in a sm idgment on it. Maripos hen she heard this. It portentous step from the 2 rose-draped cottage in tq this talk of re a presario. She n th vista of Third street A The Trumpet office wmbler neighbors, hesitation and fright in her eyes. Like sensible guardian she slipped her hand through the young gi arm and walked brisk- alking of the rare chances to a handicapped humanity rumpet office, as all old San Franciscans know, stood on Third street, and was, in its day, considered a fine building. Jake Shackleton had not been its owner six months yet, and all his reforms were not inaugurated. From the yawning arch of its doorway fights of stairs Jed up and upward, from stories where the presses rattled all night, to the editorial story where sentiments of The Trumpet staff were confided to paper. This latter and most important department was four flights up the dark stairway, which was it at its turnings with large kerosene lamps, backed by tin reflectors. There w little of the luxury of the modern newspaper office about the barren, bus- iness-like building, echoing like an empty shell to the shouts of men and the pounding of machinery. At the top of the fourth flight the ladies paused. The landing broadened out into & sort of ante-rcom, bare and windowless, two dejected-looking gas- jets dispensing a tarnished yellow light into the surrounding gloom. A boy, with a sleek, oiled head, sat at a table reading that morning’s issue of The Trumpet., He put it down as Mrs. Wil- lers rose before his vision and nodded familiarly to her. She gave him a quick word of greeting and swept Mari- posa forward through a doorway, down a long passage, from which doors opened into tiny rooms with desks and droplights. The girl now and then had glimpses of men seated at the desks, the radiance of the droplights hard on their faces that had been lifted expec- tantly as their ears caught the interest- ing rustle of skirts in the corridor. Suddenly, at the end of the passage, Mrs. Willers struck with her knuckles on a closed portal. The next moment Mariposa, with the light of a large win- dow shining full on her face, was shak- ing hands with Shackleton. Then, in response to his motioning hands, she took the chair beside the desk, where she sat, facing the white glare of the window, conscious of his keen eyes critically regarding her. Mrs. Willers took a chair in the background. For a moment she had fears that the nerv- ousness she had noticed in tege's countenance on the way down would make her commit some betise that would antagonize the Interest Shackleton gp evidently took in her. Mrs. Willers had seen her chiet’'s brusk impatience roused by follies ‘more ex- cusable than those that rise from a young girl’s nervous shyness and that would be incomprehensible to his hardy self-confident nature. But Mariposa seemed encouragingly composed. She again felt the curious sense of ease, of being at home with him, that this unknown man had given her before. She had that inspiring sen- sation that she was approved; that this old-time friend of her father's had a singular unspoken sympathy with her. “As if he might have been an old friend,” she told her mother after the first meeting, “of some kind of relation —one of those uncles that come back from India in the English novels.” Now only her fluctuating color told of the inward tumult that possessed her as he told her concisely, but kindly, that he had arranged for her to ‘sing before Lepine, the manager of the opera, at 2 o’clock on the following day. Several people of experience had told him Lepine was an excellent judge. They would then hear an expert's opin- ion on her voice, her pro- kind of a voice,” he said, smiling, “but you know my opinion is worth more on ores than on voices. So we won't soar too high till we hear what the fellow whose busi- ness it is, has to say. Then, if he's satisfied”—he gave a little shrug—we'll see.” The interview was brought to an end in a few moments. It seemed to Mari- posa that the scenes which Mrs: Wil- lers assured her were 8o big with prom- ise were Incredibly short for momehts so fraught with destiny. She seemed hardly to have caught her breath yet from the ascent of the four flights of stairs, when they were once again walking down the corridor, with the writing men looking up with pricked ears at the returning rustle of skirts. It was Mre. Willers who had wafted her away so quickly, “Never beat about the bush where vou deal with Jake Shackleton,” she said, slipping her hand in Mariposa's “I think it's the fipest CALL. arm as they passed down the corridor. ‘“He's goti no use for people who gam- bel round the subject. Say your say and then go. That's the way to get on with him.” In the ante-room the boy was still sitting, his chair tilted back on its hind legs, The Trumpet in his hands. Nev- ertheless, he had made an incursion into the inner regions to find out whom Mrs. Willers was piloting into the sanc- tum, for he had the curiosity of those Who hang on the fringes of the news- paper world. As the ladies passed him, going to- ward the stairhead, a young man rose above it, almost colliding with them. Then in the gloom of the dejected gas- Jets he stood aside, against the wall, letting them pass out. He wore a long ulster with a turned-up collar. Be- tween the edge of this and the brim of his derby hat, there was the gleam of a pair of eye-glasses and a suggestion of a faif mustache. He raised his hat, holding it above his head during the in- terval of their transit, disclosing a small pate clothed with smooth blonde b Who was that lady with Mrs. Wil- lers?” he said to the boy, as he walked - "m//m/ JE Y, < ///1[2"[ toward the door into the corrider. “She’s some singing lady,” answered that youth drawlingly, tilting his chair still farther back, “what's come to see Mr. Shackleton about singing at the opera-house. Her name’s Moreau.” The . young man, withont further comment, passed into the inner hall, leaving the boy smiling with pride that his carelessly acquired information should have been so soon of use. For the questioner was Winslow Shackle- tonm, the millionaire's only son. The next morning was one of fever- ish excitement in the cottaze on Pine street. Mariposa could not settle her- stlf to anything, at one moment trvine her voice at the piano, at the next standing in front of her glass and put- ting on all her own and her mother's hats in an effort to see in which she presented the most attractive appear- ance. She thrilled with hope for a space, then sank into a dead apathy of dejection. Lucy was quietly encourag- ing, but the day was one of hidden an- gulsh to her. The daughter, ignorant of the knowledge and the memories that were wringing the mother’s heart, won- dered why Lucy was so confident of her winning Shackleten’s approval. As the hour came for her to go she won- dered, too, at the marble pailor of her mother’s face, at the coldness of the hand that clung to hers in a lingering farewell. Lucy was giving back her child to the father who had deserted it and her. The excitement of the morning reached its climax when a carriage ap- peared at the curb with Mrs. Willers’ face at the window. The hour of fate had struck, and Mariposa, with a last kiss to her mother, ran down the steps feeling llke one about to embark on a journey upon perilous seas in which le enchanted islands. During the drive Mrs. Willers talked on outside matters. She was business- fike and quiet to-day. Even her clothes seemed to partake of her practical mood and were inconspicuous and sub- dued. As the carriage turned down Mission street she herself began to ex- perience qualms. What if they had all been mistaken and the girl's volce was nothing out of the ordinary? What a cruel disappointment, and with sick, helpless mother! What she s was: Now, you've got the fine: likely to hear, and your best. They alighted, and as they to the flagged entrance that that 1 Remember that Lepine’s ever u're going to sing here we are! foyer, Shackleton came forward to meet them He looked older in the crude afternoon light, his face show (‘ the lines that his fiercely lived life ha plowed In it. But he smiled r : ingly at Mariposa and pressed he hand. Everything's ready.” he said “Lepine’s put back a rehearsal for 80 we .mustn’t keep him waiting. And are you all ready o surprise us?" he asked, as they walked together toward where the three steps led to the foyer “I'm ready to do my best,” she an swered; “a person can't do more than that.” The answer pleased him, as every- thing she sald did. He saw she was nervous, but that she was going to conquer herself. “Lots of grit,” he said to himsel he gave ear to a remark of Mrs. W lers’. “She won’t quit at the first stacle.” They passed through the opening in the brass rai! that led to the foyer This space, the gathering place of the radiant beings of Mariposa’s first nig at the opera, was now a dimly lit and deserted hall, its flagged flooring look- ing dirty in the raw light. From some- where, in what seemed a far, dreamy the sound of a piano came, as As they b- by numerous d crossed the foyer towa entrance into the auditoriu 1€ or swung open and two men appeared One was a short and siout French- man, with a turned-ov lar, upon which a double chin rested. He had a bald forehead and eyes that gleamed sharpl ’ e pince-nez. At sight of ba gave an exclama- tion and ca rward Our yor he said to Mari- posa < tiny tha foot t gree Shack! exaggerated foreign « perfect cent. Th and the « spoke little Signor Tojet They moved forward talking. then, pushing the de open, Ler motioned Mariposa to enter. She did so and for a moment stocd amaz staring into a vast, shadowy space, where, in what seemed a vague, und fined distance, a tiny spot two of light cut in the darkness. The air was chill and smelt of a ible. From somewhere she heard the sound of voices rising and falling, and then again the notes of a piano, now and unobscured, resembling. in the echoing ho ciousness of the flding, thin, tinkling sounds by ten glass. Lepine brushed '\'h( her and lessly to great b way down the ai As she fi e him her eyes became a the dimness, and she bega 3 out the arch of the stage with black ness beyond, into wk of light of a few gas-jets. seats-stretched before her 1 spe linen covers. Now and V‘a" a figure crossed the stage, and as they dr nearer, she sav 2 sitting on a hig n book by the light of a shaded 1 The notes of the piano sounded sk and closer, and by thelr pro: more than by her sight, she located it ner of orch. As then sud smothered laugh said toward the corner stra ez Lepine, direct the darkness the lady voice ing his whence the laugh had arisen, ready luminous spark is here to sing, if you are Instantly a faintly Mariposa had not bloomed into full-blown radiance of a gas-jet tur full cock under a sheltering shade projected, what seemed in the dim ness, a torrent of light on the ke board of the piano, illuminating a pair of masculine hands that had been Ing over the keys in the darkness hind them the girl saw a shadowy shape, and then a spectacled face under a mane of drooping black hair was ad vanced into the light ‘“Has the lady her music?" said the face, in Eng! , but with another va- riety of ac She handed him the two songs she had brought Knowest Thou the Land om “Mignon,” and “Farewe Lechaber.” In the short period of her tuition her teacher had told her tha she had sung “Lochaber” admirably The man opened them, glanced at the names, and placing the “Mignon™ aria on the rack, ran his hands lightly and carelessly over the keys bars of the accompaniment. “Whenever the lady ready,” he said, with an air of patience, as though he had endured this form of persecu tion until all spirit of revolt was crushed Mariposa drew back from him, we dering if she were to sing there and then. Lepine was behind her, and be- in the opening hind him she saw, h a sense of nostalgie loneliness, that the Italian conductor was shepherding Mrs. W ers and Shackleton into two seat ] the aisle. They looked small and away. “We will mount to the stage this way Mademoiselle, id Lepine, and he dicated a small flight of steps that r from the corner of the orchestra to of the stage above. He ascended first, she close at his heels, and in a moment found herself on the dark, deserted stage. It seemed enormous to her, stretching back into uneecen regions where the half-defined shapes of trees and castles, walls and beuches were huddled in dim confu- sion. Down the aisles between side scenes she,caught glimpses of vistas lit by wavering gleams of light. People moved here and there, aercss these vistas. their footsteps sounding singu- larly distinct. As she stood uneasily, looking to the right and left, a sudden sound of hammering arose from some- where behind, loud and vibrant. Le- pine, who was about to descend the stairs, turned and shouted a furious sentence in Italian down the opening.