r what had happened. Floss, in the same
situation, came running in and went straight to her father, quite sure
of his love, if not of his forgiveness.

I did _not_ take some business which Marion did on Terriss'
suggestion. Where Thornhill tells Olivia that she is not his wife, I
used to thrust him away with both hands as I said "Devil!"

"It's very good, Nell, very fine," said Terriss to me, "but, believe
me, you miss a great effect there. You play it grandly, of course, but
at that moment you miss it. As you say 'Devil!' you ought to strike me
full in the face."

"Oh, don't be silly, Terriss," I said. "Olivia is not a pugilist."

Of course I saw, apart from what was dramatically fit, what would
happen!

However, Marion, very young, very earnest, very dutiful, anxious to
please Terriss, listened eagerly to the suggestion during an
understudy rehearsal.

[Illustration: _Copyrighted by Window & Grove_

HENRY IRVING AS THE VICAR]

"No one could play this part better than your sister Nell," said
Terriss to the attentive Marion, "but, as I always tell her, she does
miss one great effect. When you say 'Devil! hit me bang in the face."

"Thank you for telling me," said Marion gratefully.

"It will be much more effective," said Terriss.

It _was_. When the night came for Marion to play the part, she struck
out, and Terriss had to play the rest of the scene with a handkerchief
held to his bleeding nose!

_Ellen Terry and Eleanora Duse_

I think it was as Olivia that Eleanora Duse first saw me act. She had
thought of playing the part herself sometime, but she said: "_Never_
now!" No letter about my acting ever gave me the same pleasure as this
from her:

"MADAME: With Olivia you have given me pleasure and pain.
_Pleasure_ by your noble and sincere art--_pain_ because I
feel sad at heart when I see a beautiful and generous woman
give her soul to art--as you do--when it is life itself,
your heart itself, that speaks tenderly, sorrowfully, nobly
beneath your acting. I cannot rid myself of a certain
melancholy when I see artists as noble and distinguished as
you and Mr. Irving. Although you are strong enough (with
continual labor) to make life subservient to art, I, from my
standpoint, regard you as forces of nature itself, which
should have the right to exist for themselves instead of for
the crowd. I would not venture to disturb you, Madame, and