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Beth Norvell

Page 34

Winston watched her earnestly as she spoke, his gray eyes brightening

with unconscious appreciation, his face gradually losing its harshness

of disapproval. A spirit of independence always made quick appeal to

his favor, and this girl's outspoken defiance of his good opinion set

his heart throbbing. Back of her outward quietness of demeanor there

was an untamed spirit flashing into life.

"We may never exactly agree as to this question of proprieties," he

acknowledged slowly. "Yet I can partially comprehend your position as

viewed professionally. Am I, then, to understand that your future is

definitely decided upon? You really purpose dedicating your life to

dramatic art?"

She hesitated, her quickly lowered eyes betraying a moment of

embarrassment.

"Yes," she answered finally. "I am beginning to find myself, to

believe in myself."

"You expect to find complete satisfaction in this way?"

"Complete? Oh, no; one never does that, you know, unless, possibly,

the ideals are very low; but more than I can hope to find elsewhere.

Even now I am certainly happier in the work than I have been for

years." She looked up at him quickly, her eyes pleading. "It is not

the glitter, the sham, the applause," she hastened to explain, "but the

real work itself, that attracts and rewards me--the hidden labor of

fitly interpreting character--the hard, secret study after details.

This has become a positive passion, an inspiration. I may never become

the perfected artist of which I sometimes dream, yet it must be that I

have within me a glimmering of that art. I feel it, and cannot remain

false to it."

"Possibly love may enter to change your plans," he ventured to suggest,

influenced by the constantly changing expression of her face.

She flushed to the roots of her hair, yet her lips laughed lightly.

"I imagine such an unexpected occurrence would merely serve to

strengthen them," she replied quickly. "I cannot conceive of any love

so supremely selfish as to retard the development of a worthy ideal.

But really, there is small need yet of discussing such a possibility."

She stood aside as he made a movement toward the open door, yet, when

he had stepped forth into the hall, she halted him with a sudden

question: "Do you intend returning at once to Denver?"

"No, I shall remain here."

She said nothing, but he clearly read a farther unasked question in her

face.

"I remain here, Miss Norvell, while you do. I shall be among your

audiences at the Gayety. I do not altogether agree that your choice

has been a correct one, but I do sincerely believe in you,--in your

motives,--and, whether you desire it or not, I propose to constitute

myself your special guardian. There is likely to be trouble at the

Gayety, if any drunken fool becomes too gay."

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