Beth Norvell | Page 6

her depiction, together with its marvellous clearness
of detail and its intense realism, held him captive. The plot of the play
was ugly, melodramatic, and entirely untrue to nature; against it
Winston's cultivated taste instantly revolted; yet this woman interpreted
her own part with the rare instinct of a true artist, picturing to the very
life the particular character intrusted to her, and holding the house to a
breathless realization of what real artistic portrayal meant. In voice,
manner, action, in each minute detail of face and figure, she was truly
the very woman she represented. It was an art so fine as to make the
auditors forget the artist, forget even themselves. Her perfect
workmanship, clear-cut, rounded, complete, stood forth like a delicate
cameo beside the rude buffoonery of T. Macready Lane, the coarse
villany of Albrecht, and the stiff mannerisms of the remainder of the
cast. They were automatons as compared with a figure instinct with life
animated by intelligence. She seemed to redeem the common clay of
the coarse, unnatural story, and give to it some vital excuse for
existence, the howls of laughter greeting the cheap wit of the comedian
changed to a sudden hush of expectancy at her mere entrance upon the
stage, while her slightest word, or action, riveted the attention. It was a
triumph beyond applause, beyond any mere outward demonstration of
approval. Winston felt the spell deeply, his entire body thrilling to her
marvellous delineation of this common thing, her uplifting of it out of
the vile ruck of its surroundings and giving unto it the abundant life of
her own interpretation. Never once did he question the real although
untrained genius back of those glowing eyes, that expressive face, those
sincere, quiet tones which so touched and swayed the heart. In other
days he had seen the stage at its best, and now he recognized in this
woman that subtle power which must conquer all things, and eventually

"arrive."
Early the following morning, tossing uneasily upon a hard cot-bed in
the next town listed in their itinerary, he discovered himself totally
unable to divorce this memory from his thoughts. She even mingled
with his dreams,--a rounded, girlish figure, her young face glowing
with the emotions dominating her, her dark eyes grave with
thoughtfulness,--and he awoke, at last, facing another day of servile toil,
actually rejoicing to remember that he was part of the "Heart of the
World." That which he had first assumed from a mere spirit of play, the
veriest freak of boyish adventure, had suddenly developed into a real
impulse to which his heart gave complete surrender.
To all outward appearances Miss Beth Norvell remained serenely
unconscious regarding either his admiration or his presence. It was
impossible to imagine that in so small a company he could continually
pass and repass without attracting notice, yet neither word nor look
passed between them; no introduction had been accorded, and she
merely ignored him, under the natural impression, without doubt, that
he was simply an ignorant roustabout of the stage, a wielder of trunks,
a manipulator of scenery, in whom she could feel no possible interest.
A week passed thus, the troupe displaying their talents to fair business,
and constantly penetrating into more remote regions, stopping at all
manner of hotels, travelling in every species of conveyance, and
exhibiting their ability, or lack of it, upon every makeshift of a stage.
Sometimes this was a bare hall; again it was an armory, with an
occasional opera house--like an oasis in the vast desert--to yield them
fresh professional courage. Small cities, straggling towns, boisterous
mining camps welcomed and speeded them on, until sameness became
routine, and names grew meaningless. It was the sort of life to test
character thoroughly, and the "Heart of the World" troupe of strollers
began very promptly to exhibit its kind. Albrecht, who was making
money, retained his coarse good-nature unruffled by the hardships of
travel; but the majority of the stage people grew morose and
fretful,--the eminent comedian, glum and unapproachable as a bear; the
leading gentleman swearing savagely over every unusual worry, and
acting the boor generally; the ingénue, snappy and cat-like. Miss

Norvell alone among them all appeared as at first, reserved, quiet,
uncomplaining, forming no intimate friendships, yet performing her
nightly work with constantly augmenting power. Winston, ever
observing her with increasing interest, imagined that the strain of such
a life was telling upon her health, exhibiting its baleful effect in the
whitening of her cheeks, in those darker shadows forming beneath her
eyes, as well as in a shade less of animation in her manner. Yet he saw
comparatively little of her, his own work proving sufficiently onerous;
the quick jumps from town to town leaving small opportunity for either
rest or reflection. He had