Ada Adair

Savannah Times. Ono glorious raorning in midsummer two ladies were sittingin rustic lounging chaira upon the v.ide veranda of the Ilemlock Inn. The younger, a fair maid with darkblue eyea and a wealth of golden hair, ga.ed dreamily out upon tho charming view, a little lake nniú! the pinociad Adirondack hills, calrn and still in a glare of August sunshine. The eider lady held an open newspaper in her hand, and had just read in it this notice, mystical to the uninitiated: CometTheatekCall, Seasos 1880-7. The ladies and gentlemen of tho company will assernble iu the greenroom, Monday, August 30, at 10 a. m., for the iirst rehearsal. Season opons September 6. Mr. George Garrick, Manager. She realized sadly that the timehad come when they must bid fnrewell to this quaint mountain village, and go back to the toil and striving of the city. Af ter the blissfnl dalliance of a holidny it is not pleasant to think of returmng to the barden and worry o commonphice labor. But thia was but a passing regret; there was a more eerïous disquietude at this sudden Bummons. "Mother," suddenly said thegirl, "I will teil Arthur to-day the true story of my lif. I have done wrong in not telling him long ago." Her mother's iace brightened. "Ifc will be best to do so she replied. "I ani confident that it will make no difference in his feelings toward you, while Bhould any accident disclose that you are 'on tho stage,' the discovery that you have deceived him may make a serious breach between you." "Then, dear, I will teil him as soon as he comes. I expect him to cali every moment." "Indeed, you can not defer it any longer," rejoined her mother; "rehearsal on the 30th, only a week anead." At this instant a cheery voice exclaimed, "Good morning, ladies!" and Arthur Marvin stepped upon the bacony. The blush that came into the young girl's cheeks told clearly that the Kev. Arthur Marvin was tiie "he" of the precedin conversation. He had come to Hemlockville two yeurs before in an endeavor to repair by a long rest the ravages close and assiduous application to his studies had wroughtinhisconstitution. Being successfül in his quest fór health, and fihdinjr, too, that tfte word he taught feil upon willing ears, he had perriianently settled in the village as rector of tho Episcopal Church. Lntil the advent of this maid into his lil'e he had been indifferent to the city and country belles ahke, but from the moment ho h'rst beheld her he feit that thero was a woman he conld love. Throughout the happy months of her vacation, as they drove along the ehady roais, rowed over the lake or stro! led on the picturesquepaths that bordered it, they told again the old, o!d story that is forever new, the romance of the liking of young hearts. Mrs. Vaughan was the widow of an actor, and Penelope, her daughter, was an actvess at tno Cornet Theater, "the house of barlesqne, where she was known as Miss AdaAdair. None of the boarders in the Hemlock Inn were aware of this; nor did Arthur know it. As we liave seen Penelope determined to teil him at the Iirst opportunity. Arthur had only time to say a few words about the concert that was to take place that evening, and then he was oblic,ed to ieaye them. Penelope was forced to await another occasion to disclose her secret. The guests of the Henilock Inn had hired the village hall for that night and had announced a "grand vocal and instrumental concert" for the benefit of Mr. Marvin's church. Penelope, who never sang in the hotel parlors, as the other ladies did, had surprised the managers by offering to sins a solo. When her turn came to appear before the crowded audience she walked quietly out upon the small stage and sane the soulful words of "London Bridge." She feit in strange accord with lts weird refrain. Storm and sunshine, peace and strife, Over the bridge they go; Floatlng on the tide of lite, Yv'hither no man shall know, Pho will miss them there to-morrow? Wails, that drift to tho Blinde or sunl Gone aviay, with their songs andsorrowl Only the river still flows on. Hurry along, orrow nnd song, AM is vanity, 'neath fhe stin. Velvet flnd rtg8, bo tho world wagn, Until the river no n ore shall run. Her song aroused the audience to the highest pitch of enthusiasm; they were enraptured by the charin and passion in her rich, iull voice. A storm of applause burst forth when she had, tinished, and only after a treble rep' tition did her auditors reluctantly allow her to leave the stage. A young man who had only arrived at the Hemlock Inn that evening resolved not to eib through the rest of the entertainment. 'Til pass the time better walking about, thought he. "Queer go, to find Ada Adair here singiug under a strange name!" So musing, he lit a cigar, strode the hall, andsetforthonaramble through tho village. This soon crew tiresome. He yawned, and Btood for a moment undecided whether to go or not. A siun opposite attracted his attention - "The Adirondack Eagle." He crossed the road and looked through the window. The interior was lit up and some one was visible; writinii at a desk. "I wonder what keops my colleague of the pon up o' nights," thought the youna stranger, as he entered the office, and walked leisurely up to its occupant. "How are you?" said he: "I am Will. Dover, of the New York Arbiter. Thought I'd cali to see how your noble bird is flourishing." The person writing was a sandyhairel, frcckled-faced country boy. He looked upon Dover's arrival as providfiitial. "Fm glad to seo you!" said he.heartily. "l'm Mr. Jones, an I'm lefthere to get out tho paper all alone. The editor is down with the rheumatics, and the coinp. has started off on a tramp. The page is ehort 'bout three Sticks. Say, mister, will you write Bomething to put in there? I've bin trjin' for throo hours, an' I can't, but I kin set it up." Dover consented so pleasantly that the ink Btained face of his petitioner beamed with miles. Ho quickly nrote a report of Borne concert, bestowing lavish jjraisa upon all that took part in it. Of Penelope Vaughan he wrote: "Those who have only heard her singing inano, topifial songs, or other 'burlesquo' ditties, can not realize the depth of feeling sho displaycd in the eimpla Englieb song. For her own sake, v;o aÜvise her to give up pink tights and devote her talent3 to a highiír grado ot performances." ''B'uum, I'm obliged to yer," sai( thsfaithlul neophyte, as Will. linished.' 'TH gec tho form on the press to-night, I an' I kin kick off the huil edition by Dreakfast timo." Wil!. Dover walked slowly back to ;he hotel, elated by the consciousness that he had done a good deed. Many of thé concert organizers we re assembled upon the porch of the Elemlock Inn on the following niornng, wheil Bill Jones appeared, veiling n finished newsboy styfe; "Héro's yer Eagle! í'aü account of the grand concertl" Never did jonrnalistic entersrise meet with a quicker return. Bill'8 stock wfis sopn sold out, and he íurried biick to thö office íor a new supply. The readins of the report created a sensatio'ií. "Penelope Vaughan, a surlesque artist! Scandalous!" exciaimed tho ladios. A chorus of "I told you so" aróse. The guests gathered in a large circle and all talked at once. Penelope, the unconscious cause of all this perturbation, was sitting in a ittle boat house upon the shore of ;he lake. At frequent intervals she glanced along the road, for, although she wDuld not have confessed it, she waited for the Rev. Arthur Marvin. Presently she saw him advancing ! rapidly toward the hotel. Hisappearance alarmed her; he walked faat. and at times shook a stout cañe violently n the air with fiercegesticulatious. s lie carne nearer she saw that he was in a violent rage. Beside him ran Bill Jones, the printer's boy. Arthur stopped before the veranda. "Ís Mr. William Dover here?" he demanded From where she sat within the oat house Penelope could hear jlainly all that was said. The ladies were eager to know what ie thousht of the astounding informaron that had bnrst npon them that morning, so they ignoredhis question, and one of them said sweetly: '-We did not know we were to be honored 3y professional assistance last evoning, Mr. Marvin." Arthur hit the round savagely with lis cañe. "I have seen the statement n tho village paper that Miss Vaughans an actress," said he. "I brand it as a base calumny. Iassure you all it is untrue, a lying story. This boy tells ne it is thefabricatíon of ayoungman stopping here. Ís he present?" Kó one responded to' his demand. 3over, Indeed, had left in search of gaver scènes on an early train. Arthür had caught a glimpse of a well known face near the window of ;he boathouse, and he passed on toward It. With hís words still ringine in lier ears- words that had provedhis faith n her - she felt a sickening shame as ie carne near. She dreaded the interview; how hard her story seemed to :ell now. As he entered he was startled at the mlenes8 in her face, the pained look n her eyes. "Penelope," ne said, tenderly, "dp not grieve só. 'Tis but a silly he, &fter all, not a serious matter"- "Arthur," sheinterrupted, her voico sounding harsh and strange, "Arthur, ;he story is true. I am "an actress. The art I followed I learned with my nother's help; it is our only support. [ have nothina elseto confess, nothing else to conceal." She paused, and then said slowly, "Arthur, I have deceived you. I should have told you long ago. YVill you forgive hie?" "Darling," siid he, "you stand upon the parting of two roads, bctween whicn you ihusÉ choose. Oneleadsto :he oíd life, the other whither? Shall we tread together the new path? I believe in you - love yoü. The soul within your eyes tells you aré good and true. The past is gone; will you let me make yöur future?" No need to question what her answer was. Stul, forfearsomecaptious doubter might not be content, I rearint a telegram that ílashed over the wires that day to New York. Mr. George (jrAKBicK, Cornet Theater: I hereby resiga from your company and [rom the stago. Have written reasons.