Life and art of Richard Mansfield, with selections from his letters . anding before him,—for the house had risen,—bowed slightly, the expression of his countenancebeing very sad, and slowly withdrew. On the nextday, March 24, he went to Scranton, Pa., wherehe was to act on the night of March 25, but hissickness increased and the physician called to attendhim forbade him to appear. He expected to acton the next evening, but was not able to do so,and he was then immediately brought back to NewYork, and all liis theatrical engagements were pres-ently cancelled, it being clearly manifest that heco
Life and art of Richard Mansfield, with selections from his letters . anding before him,—for the house had risen,—bowed slightly, the expression of his countenancebeing very sad, and slowly withdrew. On the nextday, March 24, he went to Scranton, Pa., wherehe was to act on the night of March 25, but hissickness increased and the physician called to attendhim forbade him to appear. He expected to acton the next evening, but was not able to do so,and he was then immediately brought back to NewYork, and all liis theatrical engagements were pres-ently cancelled, it being clearly manifest that hecould not fulfil them. During several weeks heremained in his house, 316 Riverside Drive, undermedical care. His condition underwent manychanges; his suffering at times was great; but slowlyhe gained a little strength. He had for some timebeen determined on a journey to England. Hispassage was engaged for May 4, but he was notable to sail. I saw him on the morning of May told them I would see you, Willy, he said,even if I were dying. We sat together for some. -M Photograph hy Iurli liros. RICHARD MANSFIELD At His Home, 316 Rlicrnide Drive, Xew York OUR PARTING 323 time. He did not speak much, nor could I speakmuch to liim. It seemed best that we should bothpretend to believe that he would soon be well, butI knew that I should never see him again. Whenhe did speak it was httle more than a murmuredword or two. His mind was busy ^vith the times he mentioned Jefferson and his paint-ings. Studies in green they are, he said. Oncehe spoke aloud to himself: I have not lived a badlife. Presently I rose to go and clasped his handand said good-by. At the door I turned to look athim once more. He was sitting huddled in his chair;his figure was much emaciated; his clothes hungloosely about him; his face was pale and verywretched in expression, and I saw, in his eyes, ashe looked at me, that he knew our parting wasforever. I went back and kissed his forehead andpressed hi
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