Part 2

"If you tell me what you expected to do in St. Paul, I will answer your question," said Nellie, while Edward followed the debate between the two without saying a word.

"Well, so far as I am concerned I am willing to do anything honorable and earn good wages," said Benjamin.

"All right; remain here, and I will see that you get an offer of a position before to-morrow night. Will you stay?" and she looked him straight in the eyes, until the Russian said "Yes."

Edward walked back to Nellie's home leaving his friend wondering what in the world was to happen next. In the evening when Edward came back he hardly dared to look his friend in the face. He felt guilty in compelling Ben to stay in Chicago, and felt that if misfortune was to result, he would be responsible; but to his surprise his friend seemed perfectly pleased and said that if things did not go well in Chicago it would always be time to go further West.

The next day when the two friends were coming out of the dining room, a letter was handed to them addressed:

"Benjamin Oresky, Esq., 1620 Twenty-third Street, City."

Benjamin tore the envelope open and read:

"I am in need of a secretary, and I would like a young man who could do my work and study medicine. If you are willing to accept such a position, and feel inclined to the study of medicine; call at my office at eleven o'clock A. M to-day. Yours, Dr. P. J. McNaughton, Professor Chemistry. No. -- -- Street."

"What is it?" asked Edward when he saw Benjamin turn pale.

"My God, Edward, just what I have always been wishing for! A chance to study medicine is offered me. That Miss King must be an angel."

At the proper time the Russian called on the author of the letter, and was told what would be expected of him. The doctor was a professor in a medical college, and he wanted some one to attend to his correspondence, help prepare his lectures, etc., and would pay for the course of lectures to be attended by his secretary as well as pay him a sum of money every month.

Everything was satisfactory, and all the arrangements were made. During their talk the doctor stated that his friend, Miss King, had strongly recommended him, and for that reason he was given the preference over many other applicants.

That day, when the two friends met the Russian was happier than Edward had ever seen him. To study medicine had always been his greatest ambition, and all at once his wish was to be gratified.

"We will go to the theater to-night," suggested Edward, who produced two complimentary admission cards.

"All right, old boy, I'll go anywhere you say," said Ben, in better spirits than Edward had ever seen him before.

At the theater they were led by the usher to a sumptuous box, where they could enjoy a full view of the whole audience, as well as of the stage. As they sat watching gorgeously dressed women pass by, accompanied by men in full dress, they felt somewhat out of place, and it would not have been necessary to be a close observer to see that it was their first taste of high life.

The play was a modern one, in which the tragic and the comic sides of life are brought out, and from the first, the two friends were entirely taken up with the action on the stage, forgetful of everything else. Now they laughed so loud that the people around them were surprised at them; then during some sad scene, they both wiped tears from their eyes, to the extreme amusement of many.

All at once the music from the orchestra became soft and sweet, as if brought from far away, then, a woman whom Edward recognized at once, appeared on the stage, and the whole audience seemed to go wild. Nellie King, the star of the play, and the wonderful singer, was used to such ovation, and after smiling and gracefully bowing to the audience, she sang a love-ballad. Her voice, sweet as melody itself, carried to the audience the loving words of the song, each word pure and distinct. At times her voice was low and plaintive as if pleading, emanating sadness to the listeners, then it rose until its volume filled the whole building; it was violently passionate for an instant, and then again the words came with so much sadness that they seemed to come from the shadow of death. It spoke of unsatisfied love and despair, and the singer's voice was so true and fascinating, that when the last words had been sung, many in the audience were surprised to feel tears upon their face.

Edward was so affected that he could not speak, while the Russian was saying, "Jerusalem! What a voice!"

The whole audience seemed mad, and flowers were thrown upon the stage, hats in the air, and they were calling for Nellie's reappearance.

When she came again, her face was pale, and her eyes wandered until they seemed to rest for an instant upon the box where Edward was sitting; then as a smile passed over her face, she sang in French one of Albani's favorite songs. It is the song of an exile. It is full of pathos, and tells of the longings of the exile for his far-away home. Once Edward bad heard the same song in Canada, sung by Albani herself, but he had failed to be fully impressed by these lines:

"Rendez-moi ma patrie Ou laissez-moi mourrir. Rendez-moi mon pays, Ou laissez-moi mourrir."

After the play Edward was in such a state of mind that his friend was actually unable to get a sensible answer from him, and, arrived at their room, he wanted the Russian to stay up and speak of the woman whom he now fairly adored; but Ben, while full of enthusiasm and admiration for the same woman, was doing some hard thinking, and he could not bring himself to believe that such a talented person could be so taken up with Edward, to be in real earnest in her actions toward him. When Edward gave him a chance to speak, he said: "Edward, my boy, you have that woman on the brain, and I am fearful of the results. In you she has found a source of diversion, and her actions now, I am afraid, are the result of a fancy which might pass away at any moment, and I advise you strongly not to let your enthusiasm run away with your heart and common sense."

"What? Do you mean to say that you believe that Nellie is not sincere?" asked Edward, turning pale.

"I do not say that; but, Edward, she may be misleading herself. She is impulsive by nature, and you came in her life at the proper moment to allow her erratic imagination to create a romance with you as the hero; but you know that there is something else in life besides romances and illusions."

"True," answered Edward; "but this illusion, if illusion it is, is worth the reality to me, and every hour that it will last is worth a year of the life I have lived heretofore."

When they retired later, Edward could not sleep. He was in that nervous state that increases the activity of the mind too much. As his excitement about Nellie began to subside, a faint picture of his first sweetheart came to his mind. First, it was only like a passing glimpse; but it persisted in coming back, and after a while Edward's mind was impressed with a vivid image of Marie Louise. Every detail was perfect. Her large blue eyes, so true and so innocent, were full of a reproachful expression which brought sorrow to his soul, and then the sad face would vanish and make place for Nellie's picture, whose large brown eyes never failed to set his brain on fire. His sleep was only a continuation of these emotions, and in the morning he was tired and nervous.

After breakfast the Russian went to Dr. McNaughton's office, to make final arrangements about his position, while Edward sat in their room, trying to fathom the mysteries of the future. Getting tired of this inactivity, and knowing not what to do until the afternoon, when he was to call on Nellie, he decided to take a stroll and see something of the great western metropolis, that immense agglomeration of all nationalities, where men of all colors can be seen, but where every one seems to be in a hurry. People in Chicago seem to be always on the run; they rush along, knocking each other, sometimes they get jammed, and then they swear, but push their way, and on again they rush. The millionaire and the gamin who blackens shoes rub elbows. The fakir who is always on the lookout for a victim, and stock brokers go through the crowd side by side; the African, the Chinese, the Jap--in fact, representatives of almost every nation under the sun are seen in the great flood of humanity.

Edward drifted aimlessly with the moving mass. No one paid the slightest attention to him, and he felt lost in that human sea. He was overcome by a sense of smallness which he had never felt before. The atmosphere was loaded with a dense fog, and his clothes were soon saturated with a moisture that made him feel heavy. Once he got caught in a jam, and when he succeeded in extricating himself, he was considerably bruised and scared, besides having lost his bearings: in fact, he had to ask a policeman to direct him which way to go to find his hotel, where, disgusted, he decided to go, feeling that he could never find any pleasure in living in Chicago.

Arriving at the hotel he was handed two notes. One, from his friend Ben, telling him that he was at work, and would not come to the hotel for lunch; the other was from Nellie, asking him to come and have lunch with her. This invitation was to him like a ray of sunshine through a clouded sky. He went to his room and carefully made his toilet, his linen being all soiled from his morning's excursion.

When he met Nellie at her home she was radiant and made him feel at once that he was most welcome. The minute he looked into her eyes he felt the same charm overcome his whole system, and all at once life again was nothing but happiness.

She spoke of the play and asked him if he had enjoyed the French song, "Rendez-moi ma patrie," and Edward told her that never in his life had he enjoyed anything so much. Their lunch was a dainty one, served by a colored maid, and after drinking a small glass of fine wine, Edward felt the most happy sensations tingling through his whole nervous system. All the poetry of which his nature was capable came to the surface, and he was surprised himself at the way he could speak to Nellie. He spoke of his dreams when he left home, and she told him that she would help him to realize them, and he believed every word she said. The whole afternoon was spent in the most delightful tête-à-tête, and when darkness came, Edward was surprised that it was so late. Upon leaving her it was agreed that on the morrow they were to take up the question of his future life in Chicago.

After holding her hand in a caressing way, he bade her good-by, and the next instant he knew that the charm had left him. He was seized with a chill, caused by the Michigan Lake breeze, and the delightful intoxication of a moment ago gave way to the feeling of morose unhappiness. He felt a great shame come over his soul when he remembered that he had sworn to Nellie that never in his life had he loved any one but her; again Marie Louise's image came to him, and he walked to his hotel, carrying a great load of unhappiness and misery. At the hotel Benjamin was waiting for him, waiting with a satisfied smile upon his face, the very picture of contentment.

"Well, Ed, everything is fixed. My work is not much, and I am given a free course in medicine. I attended the first lecture to-day, and I can't tell how glad I am, my boy! How about you?" he asked.

"Oh! I don't know yet--I may not remain in Chicago, Ben," answered Edward, trying not to appear too discouraged.

"Why? Can't she help you to get some employment, Ed?"

"Will see to-morrow," answered Edward, going to his room, where he threw himself upon the bed, and felt much like sobbing. His head upon his hands, he remained in that position for a long while, thinking over the situation. He did not have the fascinating presence of that wonderful woman, Nellie, to brace him up, and the future seemed very dark indeed. Suppose she could not find him a position? What would he do? His money was nearly all gone. He would not allow her to support him. His manhood revolted at that thought.

If she did find him employment, he hated Chicago; he could certainly not be satisfied in that city. His friend, the Russian, had a position, but his salary was so small, that he knew he could not depend on him for much help. He knew now that the happiness he so keenly enjoyed when in the presence of Nellie was only momentary, and always gave place to excessive depression afterward. His exalted idea of honor compelled him to realize that his conduct was dishonorable toward Marie Louise, to whom he had promised to remain faithful. And what would his good and religious mother say if she knew that he was in love with an actress? These thoughts were not conducive to happiness or peace of mind, and Edward did not know what to do.

The next morning Ben went to the clerk of the hotel and settled their bill. Then he told Edward that he had found a good and cheap boarding-place, where they could both stop for less than one-half what they were paying at the hotel. This change pleased Edward and kept him busy part of the forenoon, because he had to see to the moving of their baggage to the boarding-house, Ben being obliged to go to his duties.

This new place was one of those many cheap boarding-houses patronized mostly by poor students and clerks, and as it was in a back street, it was comparatively quiet, a fact that Edward noticed with satisfaction. It was kept by an old, motherly Irishwoman, who seemed to take a special liking to Edward from the first, which was greatly increased when she learned that he was a Catholic. She asked him many questions, and finally wanted to know what was the nationality of his roommate.

"Russian," said Edward.

"Roosian? Faith, that's a Jew!"

"No, just a Russian," said Edward again, laughing.

"What's his name?" she asked.

"Benjamin Oresky."

"What's that?--say it again."

Edward repeated his friend's name, but the good Irish lady could not grasp it, and she said: "Sure, that's a Jew, your friend is, and look out for him; he may be an exception, but people that killed Christ are not good people. It's me that do tell you this, and kape it to yourself."

At noon when Ben came, Edward told him of his conversation with their landlady, and they both bad much fun about it; and all during their lunch they could not help but smile at the way she looked at Ben.

After lunch Ben went back to his work, and later Edward was on his way to Nellie's place. This time he was firmly decided to speak business and find out if Nellie could help him get a situation at once. "I can't live on love," he said to himself, as he stood at her door.

When Nellie came in the boudoir where Edward was waiting, she noticed the change in his face. He was pale, and the dark rings around his eyes told of sleepless nights. She greeted him with more cordiality than ever, if possible, and Edward felt her charm creep upon him like the sensation which follows drinking old wine.

"Poor boy," she said, holding his right hand in hers, "I am afraid you don't feel well, or that you have been worrying," and she looked him straight in the eyes.

A smile of beatitude spread over Edward's face under the influence of her gaze, and he answered: "To tell the truth, Nellie, I have been a little anxious about my future, but I guess it will be all right."

"Of course it will be all right," she said, and inviting him to be seated, she asked him if he would not like to become an actor.

"An actor?" he repeated, "I be an actor? I never thought of it, and then, how could I become an actor in the States when I can hardly speak English correctly?"

"That part of it is all right, Ed. I have a friend, who is now writing a new play, and there will be a Frenchman in it, and you would be just the man to take that role."

"Well, but I have never done any acting; in fact, I know absolutely nothing about it," he said.

"There is a beginning to everything. Your voice is good. You are tall and handsome,'' she added smilingly.

"Oh, bosh! Nellie, you are making fun of me. I know I was not born to be an actor, and never will be one."

"Won't you try for my sake?" she asked him pleadingly.

"For your sake, Nellie, I would do anything, but please don't ask me to make a fool of myself."

"No, no, nothing of the kind, Edward. You can take lessons in elocution, and later try the role I spoke about."

"Take lessons in elocution? Dear, it takes money and time to do these things, and while I have the time I lack the other.

"I will loan you the money, Edward, and later, when you make lots of it, you will pay it back to me. Can I tell my friend, the author, that I have his man for the role of the Frenchman?"

"I don't know, Nellie; I must have time to think it over," answered Edward, who was too surprised to grasp the full meaning of this proposition.

"All right, you will let me know to-morrow, won't you, Ed? and please take my advice and accept this chance to become an actor. I feel that you would succeed on the stage--truly, I do, Ed."

After talking over this new scheme, Edward left Nellie, and went to his boardinghouse, where he wanted to consult with his friend Ben.

The Russian saw no reason why Edward should not follow Nellie's advice, and he strongly encouraged him to do so; but to Edward, there were many points to consider. What would his parents say? What would Marie Louise think of him, if she learned that he wanted to become an actor? Had she not in her last letters begged of him to be good and true to his promises? He had not answered that part in which she also complained of the chilliness of his late letters. Another point that he felt keenly, was the eventual necessity to accept pecuniary help from Nellie; of course, he reasoned that it was to be paid back, but his sensitive nature made him realize that even then it would leave him under moral obligations to her, and his spirit of independence revolted strongly. But what was he to do?

"Try it on condition that if you don't like it, you'll go into something else," suggested the Russian, and Edward made up his mind to do so.

The next day, Nellie was delighted to learn from Ed ward that he had decided to follow her advice. She immediately gave him two hundred dollars, which he accepted after much hesitation. He wanted to give her his note, but she would not have it. They went to the writer of the new play, and Edward was introduced to him as the gentleman who was to fill the role of the Frenchman. The author seemed pleased with Edward's appearance, and predicted success for him.

The next thing was to find a professor of elocution. Nellie knew where to find one, so they went to him, and it was agreed that Edward was to take three lessons a week; and he felt much encouraged himself.

That night Edward wrote home that he had found employment, but failed to give any details, and it was with much difficulty that he succeeded in writing a few pages to Marie Louise and these were certainly disconnected, and lacked considerable of the old lover's style which he used in other days. In a postscript he pleaded nervousness as an excuse for the nature of the letter, and hoped that she would not mistrust him.

During the following day, he settled down to work with all his energy, with the result that he had very little time to worry. The more he studied the play in which he was to take part, and of which he had been given a copy, the more he liked it.

He called upon the author, with whom he at once became on friendly terms, and met many actors there, who seemed to be very nice people; gradually Edward became more and more one of them. Every day he spent some time with Nellie, who was most pleased with his success, and once more the world seemed to be right.

The company of which Nellie was the star was billed to in New York City about a week later, and when Nellie told him that she would be absent for four weeks, they felt that they would much miss each other, but agreed to write every day, and then four weeks would soon pass.

While Nellie was gone, Edward was induced to join an actor's club, and was given an opportunity to study the life of that class of society.

Edward spent much of his leisure time in the club rooms, where he could read many journals published in the interest of stage people. The membership of this club was composed of actors out of employment or playing in the city. Edward became acquainted with a great many of them and was surprised at the number of bright young men who were wasting their time, apparently waiting for a mere chances of some engagement.

Some of them were young in years, beardless yet, but they looked old, and were "old-youngs," showing upon their faces the ravages of fast life. The walls of the club rooms were covered with lithographs of modern actors, among which Edward noticed Nellie's. Among the members of the club he felt a special liking for an old man, who; in turn, seemed to take much interest in him. This old actor, past sixty, had been at one time a very famous man; in fact, had enjoyed a national reputation-but unfortunate speculations and old age had reduced him to poverty, and he was living on a pension paid him by some benevolent actors' society.

He offered to help Edward in his work, and was so kind to him that Edward made a confidant of him. When the old man heard Edward's story, tears came to his eyes and he said: "Poor boy--my life was started like yours--and I pray you to abandon the idea of going on the stage. The life of an actor is the most miserable any one can live--of course, there are exceptions; men who are born actors, and find success at each step--but they are not many, and even among them you will often find unfortunate beings whose life is a drudgery. You are young, you left good parents who expect much of you; you have a sweetheart in your little native village, whose love is of the truest kind. Hers is not the result of a passing fancy and you don't want to break her heart, do you?"

"No," said Edward, greatly affected by the old man's talk.

"And," continued the old actor, "suppose you should meet with some success on the stage. That does not mean that you will make money, no, the salary that you will command for the next ten years, granting that you will be successful, will not be more than enough to pay your expenses; and remember, my boy, once an actor, you will never be good for anything else; unless you are an exceptional man. Of course, you are starting under good auspices. Miss King is a great singer, and somewhat of an actress, but she does not know how soon her voice will fail her. She is of an erratic nature and possesses a golden heart, but she is a mere slave to her emotions, and the proof is the way she became interested in you, my boy. I do not want to be harsh on her--no--she has befriended me more than once; but, Edward, she has a right to cause her own misfortune, not yours. It was through an accident of this kind that the doors of the stage were opened to me. I was young then, young as you are. I loved a woman, and she said she loved me. I left everything to follow her on the stage, and the only sunshine of my life was during the first few years of our married life. But what is a couple of years of happiness when a whole life of misfortune is to follow? I will not tell you what happened," said the old man, feelingly, "but she tired of me. Her emotional soul made her heart beat for another, and we parted! She died a miserable death--craving my pardon, which I gave her, because she was not to blame. It was her nature, and her vocation was conducive to such things: I have never told this story to another, and to-night, when I tell you, it is because I want to save you-for your sake, for your parents' sake--for your sweetheart's sake!"

Edward was stunned. He could not speak; he simply stared at the speaker, who wiped his eyes.