Mortimer's fierce look gradually changed to one of trustful confidence. We pass over the stirring action of the play, which abounds in fine situations. When the curtain fell, Elma found her mother, attired as Mrs. Malaprop, seated in the green-room. Her antiquated attendant, Winifred, stood fanning her. The members of the company crowded around, with welcomes and kind inquiries. A gleam of the olden light "fired her fading eye." Departed vigor returned to her enfeebled frame, and to the voice, so faint and hollow a few hours before, its clear, far-sounding tone was restored. The sensations of the aged actress, on the eve of her farewell, were fitly expressed in the touching adicu delivered by John Kemble but a few years previous: "As the worn war-horse, at the trumpet's sound, And longs to rush on the embattled lines, So I, your plaudits ringing in mine ear, Can scarce sustain to think our parting near ! To think my scenic hour forever past, And that these valued plaudits are my last!"* Elma could only spend a moment at her mother's side. The young actress was allowed but a brief space to exchange her Grecian costume for the modern adornments of Lydia Languish. As the comedy of "The Rivals" is deficient in a knave, Mr. Ruthven's labors for the night ended with Dionysius. The accomplished stage villain was *Walter Scott. metamorphosed into the most worthy and devoted of husbands. The welcome which the audience bestowed on Mrs. Ruthven might almost have been said to surpass their tornado-like greeting of the half-idolized tragedian. It was not received by her with Mortimer's scornful hauteur. Blessings be wid ye!” "The best of luck to ye!" 66 Long life to ye!" resounded on every side, at her oft-repeated obeisances. The Dogberry-like misapplications of Mrs. Malaprop, who asserts that "if she reprehends anything in the world, it is the use of her oracular tongue and a nice derangement of epitaphs," never elicited heartier merriment. As the play progressed, it became apparent that Mrs. Ruthven's suddenly restored powers were but the bright flashes of life's expiring flame. During the fifth act she could not stand without support. She leaned heavily on the arms of the performers who chanced to be nearest to her; and if the exigences of the play required them to alter their situations, others took their place. Every moment she grew feebler, until her limbs wholly refused their office. She was placed in a chair, and remained seated during the final scene. The actors, regardless of the parts they were representing, gathered affectionately around her, fanning her, bathing her brow, making her inhale pungent odors. The comedy was hurried to its conclusion. The curtain fell. The audience had received the impres sion that their favorite was on the verge of a fainting-fit, produced by fatigue. After a few moments of compassionate silence, the exhausted actress received the usual summons, and the eager crowd awaited her last adieu. Mr. Ruthven placed the paper upon which the address was inscribed in her hands. She endeavored to rise, but in vain. "Do not make the attempt," remonstrated Mortimer, who had hastened to her side the instant the curtain fell. "Sit still, just as you are; let the curtain be raised, but do not try to stand." Mrs. Ruthven smiled consent. Elma stood beside her mother's chair, as the curtain was slowly lifted to the expectant multitude. One loud peal was followed by a silence so profound that the hard-drawn breath of the suffering actress was distinctly audible. Every ear was strained to catch the last words they might ever hear from those lips by which they had so often been charmed. There was a strange, nervous twitching about the mouth, in its desperate effort to articulate. The eyes, that wandered slowly around the theatre with a long, last look of regret, grew filmy and glassy. The face had become thin, sharp, and ghastly, within a few hours. The paper dropped from the powerless hand. The head drooped slowly to one side, and was caught by Elma, who had fallen upon her knees by her mother's chair. A voice reached the audience from behind the scenes: "Let fall the curtain; they will never hear her speak again !" Every one recognized the deep, sonorous tones of Mortimer. Many and many a sob broke the solemn stillness, as the curtain, like a pall, slowly descended, and shut out mother and daughter; one of them for the last time for this, her place, would never know her more ! Elma's Attributes. CHAPTER II. Divine Providence. A Trustful Spirit. The Death-Bed and Betrothal. The Box of Mementos.· A Confidence Postponed. - Mortimer's Departure.— Withered Violets. Change in the Stage Villain. Expiring Faculties.-An Irish Absentee.—Lord Oranmore and Leonard Edmonton. Their Visit to Elma. Discussion between the Nobleman and Student of Divinity. · The Portrait. —Elma's Titled Suitor. An Offer. Reply of the Actress. FOR nearly a week Mrs. Ruthven lay in a semistupor. Elma's filial love proclaimed its strength and depth by her thoughtful, all-anticipating, untiring devotion, as it had never done by words. Her nature was undemonstrative. She ever shunned the display of emotion, however real. Her profoundest, tenderest feelings were always voiceless. Her character had a strong affinity to that of Lear's gentle daughter. Cordelia-like, her love was "richer than her tongue," nor could she "heave her heart into her mouth," and make boast of its pulsations. Even her sorrow recoiled from outward show. She might have said, with Hermione, "I am not prone to weeping, as our sex Commonly are; the want of which vain dew |