day, in recalling to Mr. Palmer a long list of such successful
productions of his as "Led Astray," "The Two Orphans," "Camille," "Miss
Multon," "The Danicheffs," "The Celebrated Case," etc., he surprised me
by emphatically declaring that the performance of "Miss Multon" came
nearer to absolute perfection than had any other play he had ever
produced; and to convince me of that, he simply brought forward the cast
of the play to help prove the truth of his assertion. As we went over the
characters one by one, I was compelled to admit that from the leading
part to the smallest servant, I had never seen one of them quite equaled
since. Mr. Palmer's pride in this production seemed the more odd at
first, because of its slight demands upon the scenic-artist, the
carpenter, and upholsterer. It needs just two interior scenes--a busy
doctor's study in London and a morning-room in a French
country-house--that's all. "But," he will enthusiastically cry, "think of
that performance, recall those people," and so, presently, I will obey
him and recall them every one.

The play had twice failed in Paris, which was, to say the least,
discouraging. When it was read to me I thought the tremendous passion of
maternity ought to touch the public heart--others there were, who said
no, that sexual love alone could interest the public. Mr. Palmer thought
the French play had needed a little brightening; then, too, he declared
the people wanted to see the actual end of the heroine (one of Mr. Daly's
fixed beliefs, by the way), therefore he had Mr. Cazauran write two
additional short acts--a first, to introduce some brightness in the
children's Christmas-tree party and some amusement in the old bachelor
doctor and his old maid sister; and a last for the death of _Miss
Multon_.

After brief reflection I concluded I would risk it, and then, just by way
of encouragement, Mr. Cazauran, who had always been at pains to speak as
kindly of my work as that work would allow, when he was critic on the
different papers, declared that all my acquired skill and natural power
of expressing emotion united would prove useless to me--that _Miss
Multon_ was to be my Waterloo, and to all anxious or surprised "whys?"
sapiently made answer: "No children." His argument was, that not being a
mother in reality, I could not be one in imagination.

Always lacking in self-confidence, those words made my heart sink
physically, it seemed to me, as well as figuratively; but the