The Shakespeare heroines were to be the closing feature of the programme. Therefore, in the front row facing the stage were half a dozen men and women whom Miss Winthrop had invited to act as judges, and a few feet from them in a chair next Miss Winthrop’s sat old Madame Van Mater, the owner of “The Towers” and the donor of the Shakespeare prize. Her appearance at the commencement had been a surprise to everybody, but whether she came because of her interest in her newly-found granddaughter or whether because of her affection for Miss Winthrop, no one had been told.
When Winifred Graham first came out upon the stage such a murmur of admiration ran through the audience that its echo reached to her, giving her just the confidence she had needed for the making of her speech. And truly her beauty justified the admiration, for she was wearing the costume that best suited her and was most effective against the natural background of evergreens and flowers. The sunshine falling between the leaves of the trees overhead touched her pale blonde hair to a deeper gold, making fairy shadow patterns on the pure white of her dress.
Without a trace of the nervousness that had haunted her upstairs, nor a moment’s faltering over her lines, Winifred recited Ophelia’s famous description of Hamlet, ending with the words, “O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see.” Then for just a moment she paused with a pretty, pathetic gesture and her gaze swept the faces of her judges before she vanished from the stage amid much clapping of hands. Three times Winifred was recalled by the audience and at each call Gerry’s heart sank lower and lower in her pretty high-top boots.
“There is no use my trying now,” she grumbled, “because Winifred has already won.” When a friend standing near whispered something in her ear she laughed in her usual good-humored fashion. “Oh, yes, I suppose I can recite better than Winifred, but what avails it me when I can’t look like the goddess of spring as she does at this moment there on the stage with her arms full of flowers.”
Gerry and two of her closest friends were under the enclosed arbor in the spot nearest the entrance to the stage, as her recitation came next, and a few feet away Olive, closely guarded by Jean, was also waiting.
Hurriedly Jessica Hunt rushed in, whispering something to Jean. Then she darted across to Gerry. “Winifred is coming off now for the last time; are you ready? Winifred looked perfectly lovely, but she did not speak distinctly enough. Remember it is difficult to hear out of doors.”
Then came Gerry’s cue. A little nearsighted without her glasses, she tripped over some branches, making a headlong rush on to the stage in her entrance, as though Rosalind, really trying to find her way through an unknown woods, had stumbled in the underbrush.
No one had ever been able to call Gerry Ferrows handsome, and yet in the character and costume of Rosalind she was certainly at her best. Perhaps the description that the heroine gives of herself in masquerade will best describe Gerry’s present appearance.
“More than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?