her mother
should never again receive commands from any one--that her shoulders
were strong enough to bear the welcome burden, that they would face
the new life and its possible sufferings together--_together_, that
was the main thing." She says:

"As I stood before the glass smoothing my hair, I gravely bowed to the
reflection and said, 'Accept my congratulations and best wishes,
Wood's leading lady!'--and then fell on the bed and sobbed ...
because, you see, the way had been so long and hard, but I had won one
goal--I was a leading woman!"

Leaving behind the surroundings of so many years was not a light
matter, nor was the parting with the Ellslers, of whose theatrical
family she had been a member for so long, easy. When the hour of
leave-taking came, she was very sad. She had to make the journey
alone, as her mother also was to join her only when she had found a
place to settle in. Mr. Ellsler was sick for the first time since she
had known him. She said good-by to him in his room, and left feeling
very despondent, he seemed so weak. "Judge then," says Miss Morris,
"my amazement when, hearing a knock on my door and calling, 'Come
in'--Mr. Ellsler, pale and almost staggering, entered. A rim of red
above his white muffler betrayed his bandaged throat, and his poor
voice was but a husky whisper:

"'I could not help it,' he said. 'You were placed under my care once
by your mother. You were a child then, and though you are pleased to
consider yourself a woman now, I could not bear to think of your
leaving the city without some old friend being by for a parting
God-speed.'

"I was inexpressibly grateful, but he had yet another surprise for me.
He said, 'I wanted, too, Clara, to make you a little present that
would last long and remind you daily of--of--er--the years you have
passed in my theater.'

"He drew a small box from his pocket. 'A good girl and a good
actress,' he said, 'needs and ought to own a'--he touched a spring,
the box flew open--'a good watch,' he finished.

"Literally, I could not speak, having such agony of delight in its
beauty, of pride in its possession, of satisfaction in a need
supplied, of gratitude and surprise immeasurable. 'Oh!' and again
'Oh!' was all that I could cry, while I pressed it to my cheek and
gloated over it. My thanks must have been sadly jumbled and broken,
but my pride and pleasure made Mr. Ellsler laugh, and then the
carriage was there, and laughter stilled into a silent