So far as looks went, she was seen to least advantage in her greatest
money-maker, "East Lynne." Oh, dear! oh, dear! the tears that were shed
over that dreadful play, and how many I contributed myself! I would stand
looking on from the entrance, after my short part was over, and when she
cried out: "Oh, why don't I die! My God! why _don't_ I die?" I would lay
my head against the nearest scene and simply howl like a broken-hearted
young puppy. I couldn't help it, neither could those in front help
weeping--more decorously perhaps, because they were older and had their
good clothes on.

Now this brilliant and successful actress was not very happy--few are,
for one reason or another--but she worked much harder than most women,
and naturally liked to have some return for her work; therefore she must
have found it depressing, at least, when her husband formed the habit of
counting up the house by eye (he could come to within $5 of the money
contents of the house any night in this way), and then going out and
losing the full amount of her share in gambling. It was cruel, and it was
but one of the degradations put upon her. Lucille did not know how to
bear her troubles. She wept and used herself up. Then, to get through her
heavy night's work, she took a stimulant. Oh, poor soul! poor soul!
though the audience knew nothing, the people about her knew she was not
her best self; and she knew they knew it, and was made sore ashamed and
miserable. Her husband, on one occasion, had gambled away every cent of
three nights' work. On the fourth she had had resource to a stimulant,
and on the fifth she was cast down, silent, miserable, and humiliated.

That night "our baby" came to the theatre. She was one of those
aggressively sociable infants, who will reach out and grasp a strange
whisker rather than remain unnoticed. She had pretty little, straight
features and small, bright eyes that were fairly purply blue. I had
her--of course in so public a place it was my right to have her--she was
over my shoulder. I was standing near the star-room. The door opened and
next moment I heard a long, low, "O-o-h!" and then again, "O-o-h!
a--baby, and awake! and the peace of heaven yet in its eyes!"

I turned my head to look at Miss Western, and her face quickened my
heart. Her glowing eyes were fastened upon "baby," with just the rapt,
uplifted look one sees at times before some Roman Catholic altar. It was
beautiful! She gave a little start and e