"I am so glad you honestly think that about my work; so glad you told
me. It is a wonderful encouragement, for I know now that you speak as
a man of education, of cultivation. You must have seen the highest
class of stage interpretation, and, I am sure, have no desire merely to
flatter me. You do not speak as if you meant an idle compliment. Oh,
you can scarcely conceive how much success will spell to me, Mr.
Winston," her voice growing deeper from increasing earnestness, her
eyes more thoughtful, "but I am going to tell you a portion of my
life-story in order that you may partially comprehend. This is my
first professional engagement; but I was no stage-struck girl when I
first applied for the position. Rather, the thought was most repugnant
to me. My earlier life had been passed under conditions which held me
quite aloof from anything of the kind. While I always enjoyed
interpreting character as a relaxation, and even achieved, while at
school in the East, a rather enviable reputation as an amateur, I
nevertheless had a distinct prejudice against the professional stage,
even while intensely admiring its higher exponents. My turning to it
for a livelihood was a grim necessity, my first week on the road a
continual horror. I abhorred the play, the making of a nightly
spectacle of myself, the rudeness and freedom of the audiences, the
coarse, common-place people with whom I was constantly compelled to
consort. You know them, and can therefore realize to some extent what
daily association with them must necessarily mean to one of my early
training and familiarity with quieter social customs. But my position
in the troupe afforded me certain privileges of isolation, while my
necessities compelled me to persevere. As a result, the dormant
art-spirit within apparently came to life; ambition began to usurp the
place of indifference; I became more and more disgusted with
mediocrity, and began an earnest struggle toward higher achievements.
I had little to guide me other than my own natural instincts, yet I