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It was quite a grown-up supper, with boullion and creamed chicken and baked ham and sandwitches, among other things. But of course they had to show it was a `kid' party, after all. For instead of coffee we had milk. Milk! When I was going through a tradgedy. For if it is not a tradgedy to be engaged to a man one never saw before, what is it?
I tell you that I like the young man, and give you my blessing, or what is the present-day equivelent for it, and you look like a figure of Tradgedy!" But I could endure no more. My own father had turned on me and was rending me, so to speak. With a breaking heart and streaming eyes I flew to my Chamber. There, for hours I paced the floor.
For Tradgedy has crept into my life, so that somtimes I wonder if it is worth while to live on and suffer, especialy without an Allowence, and being again obliged to suplicate for the smallest things. But I am being brave. And, as Carter Brooks wrote me in a recent letter, acompanying a box of candy: "After all, Bab, you did your durndest. And if they do not understand, I do, and I'm proud of you.
And to a heart broken while trying to help another who did not deserve to be helped. But if he decieved me, he has paid for it, and did until he was rescued at ten o'clock tonight. I have been given a sleeping medacine, and until it takes affect I shall write out the tradgedy of this day, omiting nothing. The trained nurse is asleep on a cot, and her cap is hanging on the foot of the bed.
At first I meant to write Comedies, but as I realized the graveity of life, and its bitterness and disapointments, I turned naturaly to Tradgedy. Surely, as dear Shakspeare says: The world is a stage Where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one. This explains my sinsere interest in Mr. Beecher. His Works were all realistic and sad.
She stood, the paper still clutched in her hand, her cheeks redder than the crimson velvet carpet. His astonished eyes fell upon it he who ran might read the Chesholm Courier in big, black letters, and in staring capitals, the "TRADGEDY OF CATHERON ROYALS." The smile faded from Sir Victor Catheron's lips, the faint color, walking in the chill wind had brought, died out of his face.
Our talk was strictly business. He asked me my Plot, and although I had been warned not to do so, even to David Belasco, I gave it to him fully. And even now, when all is over, I am not sorry. Let him use it if he will. I can think of plenty of Plots. The real tradgedy is that we met father.
"Work?" "I am a writer" I said in a low, ernest tone. "No! How how amazing. What do you write?" "I'm on a play now." "A Comedy?" "No. A Tradgedy. How can I write a Comedy when a play must always end in a catastrofe? The book says all plays end in Crisis, Denouement and Catastrofe." "I can't beleive it," he said. "But, to tell you a Secret, I never read any books about Plays."
"He is an Actor." "Ye gods!" said Jane, in a tence voice. "What a tradgedy!" "Tradgedy indeed," I was compeled to admit. "Jane, my Heart is breaking. I am not alowed to see him. It is all off, forever." "Darling!" said Jane. "You are trembling all over. Hold on to me. Do they disaprove?" "I am never to see him again. Never." The bitterness of it all overcame me. My eyes sufused with tears.
I only repeat this to show how even my father, with all his afection and good qualities, did not understand and never would understand. My Heart was full of a longing to be understood. I wanted to tell him my yearnings for better things, my aspirations to make my life a great and glorious thing. He gave me five dollars instead. Think of the Tradgedy of it!
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