Part 14 (1/2)

”I'll see.”

”You must. I want you to reserve your whole strength for the drama.

That's your true vocation, and it would be a sin for you to turn to the right or left.” He continued silent, and she went on: ”Are you still thinking about our sc.r.a.p this morning? Well, then, I'll promise never to begin it again. Will that do?”

”Oh, I don't know that you began it. And I wasn't thinking--I was thinking of an idea for a play--the eventuation of good in evil--love evolving in hate.”

”That will be grand, if you can work it out. And now you see, don't you, that there is some use in squabbling, even?”

”I suppose nothing is lost,” said Maxwell. He took out his pocket-book, and folded G.o.dolphin's check into it.

XII.

A week later there came another letter from G.o.dolphin. It was very civil, and in its general text it did not bear out the promise of severity in its change of address to _Dear Sir_, from the _Dear Mr.

Maxwell_ of the earlier date.

It conveyed, in as kindly terms as could have been asked, a fact which no terms could have flattered into acceptability.

G.o.dolphin wrote, after trying the play two nights and a matinee in Chicago, to tell the author that he had withdrawn it because its failure had not been a failure in the usual sense but had been a grievous collapse, which left him no hopes that it would revive in the public favor if it were kept on. Maxwell would be able to judge, he said, from the newspapers he sent, of the view the critics had taken of the piece; but this would not have mattered at all if it had not been the view of the public, too. He said he would not pain Maxwell by repeating the opinions which he had borne the brunt of alone; but they were such as to satisfy him fully and finally that he had been mistaken in supposing there was a part for him in the piece. He begged to return it to _Maxwell_, and he ventured to send his prompt-book with the original ma.n.u.script, which might facilitate his getting the play into other hands.

The parcel was brought in by express while they were sitting in the dismay caused by the letter, and took from them the hope that G.o.dolphin might have written from a mood and changed his mind before sending back the piece. Neither of them had the nerve to open the parcel, which lay upon Maxwell's desk, very much sealed and tied and labelled, diffusing a faint smell of horses, as express packages mostly do, through the room.

Maxwell found strength, if not heart, to speak first. ”I suppose I am to blame for not going to Chicago for the rehearsals.” Louise said she did not see what that could have done to keep the play from failing, and he answered that it might have kept G.o.dolphin from losing courage. ”You see, he says he had to take the brunt of public opinion _alone_. He was sore about that.”

”Oh, well, if he is so weak as that, and would have had to be bolstered up all along, you are well rid of him.”

”I am certainly rid of him,” Maxwell partially a.s.sented, and they both lapsed into silence again. Even Louise could not talk. They were as if stunned by the blow that had fallen on them, as all such blows fall, when it was least expected, and it seemed to the victims as if they were least able to bear it. In fact, it was a cruel reverse from the happiness they had enjoyed since G.o.dolphin's check came, and although Maxwell had said that they must not count upon anything from him, except from hour to hour, his words conveyed a doubt that he felt no more than Louise. Now his gloomy wisdom was justified by a perfidy which she could paint in no colors that seemed black enough. Perhaps the want of these was what kept her mute at first; even when she began to talk she could only express her disdain by urging her husband to send back G.o.dolphin's check to him. ”We want nothing more to do with such a man. If he felt no obligation to keep faith with you, it's the same as if he had sent that money out of charity.”

”Yes, I have thought of that,” said Maxwell. ”But I guess I shall keep the money. He may regard the whole transaction as child's play; but I don't, and I never did. I worked very hard on the piece, and at the rates for s.p.a.ce-work, merely, I earned his money and a great deal more.

If I can ever do anything with it, I shall be only too glad to give him his three hundred dollars again.”

She could see that he had already gathered spirit for new endeavor with the play, and her heart yearned upon him in pride and fondness. ”Oh, you dear! What do you intend to do next?”

”I shall try the managers.”

”Brice!” she cried in utter admiration.

He rose and said, as he took up the express package, and gave G.o.dolphin's letter a contemptuous push with his hand, ”You can gather up this spilt milk. Put it away somewhere; I don't want to see it or think of it again.” He cut open the package, and found the prompt-book, which he laid aside, while he looked to see if his own copy of the play were all there.

”You are going to begin at once?” gasped Louise.

”This instant,” he said. ”It will be slow enough work at the best, and we mustn't lose time. I shall probably have to go the rounds of all the managers, but I am not going to stop till I have gone the rounds. I shall begin with the highest, and I sha'n't stop till I reach the lowest.”

”But when? How? You haven't thought it out.”

”Yes, I have. I have been thinking it out ever since I got the play into G.o.dolphin's hands. I haven't been at peace about him since that day when he renounced me in Magnolia, and certainly till we got his check there has been nothing in his performance to restore my confidence. Come, now, Louise, you mustn't stop me, dear,” he said, for she was beginning to cling about him. ”I shall be back for lunch, and then we can talk over what I have begun to do. If I began to talk of it before, I should lose all heart for it. Kiss me good luck!”

She kissed him enough for all the luck in the world, and then he got himself out of her arms while she still hardly knew what to make of it all. He was half-way down the house-stairs, when her eye fell on the prompt-book. She caught it up and ran out upon the landing, and screamed down after him, ”Brice, Brice! You've forgotten something.”