III
Helen read Douglass's letter next morning while still in bed, and itsforthright assault made her shiver. She did not attempt to deceiveherself. She acknowledged the singular power of this young man to shakeher, to change her course of action. From the first she acknowledgedsomething almost terrifying in the appeal of his eyes, a power which heseemed unconscious of. His words of condemnation, of solicitude,troubled her as the praise of no other man in all her life had done. Hehad spoken to her soul, making her triumph over the vast audienceloathsome--almost criminal.
He was handsome--a manly man--but so were dozens of others of her wideacquaintance. His talent was undeniable, but he was still obscure,undeveloped, a failure as an architect, unambitious as a critic, thoughthat was his best point. His articles in _The Blazon_ possessed unusualinsight and candor. Beyond this she knew as little of him as of anyother of the young newspaper men who sought her acquaintance, and yet hehad somehow changed her world for her in these two meetings.
She let the letter fall on her breast, and lay with her eyes fastenedupon a big rose in a pot on the window-sill--the gift of anotheradmirer. "I do know more of him. I know that he is strong, sincere. Hedoes not flatter me--not even to win me to his play. He does not hastento send me flowers, and I like him for that. If I were to take his pointof view, all my roles and half my triumphs would drop from me. But _is_there not a subtle letting-down, a disintegration? May he not be right,after all?"
She went over once more the talk of the few moments they had spenttogether, finding each time in all his words less to criticise and moreto admire. "He does not conceal his hate," she said; and she might haveadded, "Or his love," for she was aware of her dominion, and divined,though she did not whisper it even to herself, that his change ofattitude with regard to her roles came from his change of feelingtowards her. "He has a great career. I will not allow him to spoil hisown future," she decided, at length, in her own large-minded way. Andthere were sweet, girlish lines about her mouth when her mother came into inquire how she felt.
"Very much like work, mamma, and I'm going to catch up on mycorrespondence. Mr. Douglass is coming to take breakfast with us, totalk about his play. I wish you would see that there is something that abig man can eat."
* * * * *
The note she sent in answer to his was like herself--firm, assured, butgentle:
"MR. DOUGLASS,--'What came you out for to see--a reed shaken with the wind?' I know my own mind, and I am not afraid of my future. I should be sorry to fail, of course, especially on your account, but a _succes d'estime_ is certain in your case, and my own personal following is large enough--joined with the actual lovers of good drama--to make the play pay for itself. Please come to my combination breakfast and luncheon, as you promised, and we can arrange dates and other details of the production, for my mind is made up. I am going to do your play, come what will. I thank you for having started all my dormant resolutions into life again. I shall expect you at twelve-thirty."
Having despatched this note by special messenger, she serenely set towork on less important matters, and met him in modish street dress--trimand neat and very far from the meretricious glitter of _The Baroness_.He was glad of this; he would have disliked her in negligee, no matterhow "artistic."
Her greeting was frank and unstudied. "I'm glad you've come. There areoceans of things to talk over."
"There was nothing else for me to do but come," he replied, with ameaning light in his eyes. "Your letter was a command."
"I'm sorry it takes a command to bring you to breakfast with us. True,this is not the breakfast to be given in your honor--that will comelater."
"It would be safer to have it before the play is produced," he replied,grimly.
Helen turned to her brother. "Hugh, we have in Mr. Douglass a man notsanguine of the success of his play. What does that argue?"
"A big hit!" he promptly replied.
The servants came and went deftly, and Douglass quite lost sight of thefact that the breakfast-room was high in a tower-like hotel, for Helen'slong engagement in the city had enabled her to make herself exceedinglycomfortable even amid the hectic color and insistent gilt of the HotelEmbric. The apartment not only received the sun, a royal privilege inNew York, but it was gay with flowers, both potted and in vases, and thewalls were decorated with drawings of her own choosing. Only thefurniture remained uncompromisingly of the hotel tone.
"I did intend to refurnish, but mother, who retains a little of her oldScotch training, talked me out of it," Helen explained, in answer to aquery. "Is there anything more hopelessly 'handsome' and shining thanthese chairs? There's so little to find fault with, and so little toreally admire."
"They're like a ready-made suit--unobjectionable, but not fit."
"They have no soul. How could they have? They were made by machines forundistinguished millions." She broke off this discussion. "I am eagerfor a run through the park. Won't you go? Hugh is my engineer. Recklessas he looks, I find him quite reliable as a tinker, and you know theauto is still in the tinkery stage."
"I have a feeling that it is still in the dangerous stage," he said."But I will go." He said this in a tone of desperation which amused themall very much.
It was impossible for him to remain glum in the midst of the good cheerof that luxurious little breakfast with the promise of a ride in thepark in prospect. A few moments later a young girl, Miss Fanny Cummings,came in with a young man who looked like an actor, but was, in fact,Hugh's college-mate and "advance man" for Helen, and together they wentdown to the auto-car.
There was a well-defined sense of luxury in being in Helen Merival'sparty. The attendants in the hotel were so genuinely eager to serve her,and the carefully considered comfort of everything she possessed wasvery attractive to a man like George Douglass, son of a village doctor,who had toiled from childhood to earn every dollar he spent. To ride insuch swift and shining state with any one would have had extraordinaryinterest, and to sit beside Helen in the comparative privacy of the rearseat put a boyish glow of romance into his heart. Her buoyant and sunnyspirit reacted on his moody and supersensitive nature till his faceshone with pleasure. He forgot his bitter letter of the night before,and for the moment work and worry were driven from his world. He enteredupon a dreamland--the city of menace disappeared.
The avenue was gay with promenaders and thick with carriages. Otherautos met them with cordial clamor of gongs, and now and then somedriver more lawless than Hugh dashed past them in reckless race towardsthe park. The playwright had never seen so many of New York's glitteringcarriages, and the growing arrogance of its wealth took on a new aspectfrom his newly acquired viewpoint. Here were rapidly centring the greatleaders of art, of music, of finance. Here the social climbers wereclustering, eager to be great in a city of greatness. Here the chiefones in literature and the drama must come as to a market-place, andwith this thought came a mighty uplift. "Surely success is now mine," hethought, exultantly, "for here I sit the favored dramatist of thiswondrous woman."
There was little connected conversation--only short volleys of jests asthey whizzed along the splendid drives of the park--but Douglass neededlittle more than Helen's shining face to put him at peace with all theworld. Each moment increased their intimacy.
He told her of his stern old father, a country doctor in the West, ofthe way in which his brother and sisters were scattered from North toSouth, and how he came to set his face Eastward while all the otherswent West.
"How handsome he is," thought Helen.
"How beautiful you are," his glances said in answer, and both grewyoung beneath the touch of love.
When they were once more in the hotel Helen cried out:
"There! Isn't your brain washed clear of all doubts? Come, let's to workat the play."
He looked down at her with eyes whose glow made her eyelids fall inmaidenly defence. "I am capable of anything you ask," he said, withquiet powe
r.
After a long and spirited discussion of the last act she said: "Well,now, we'll put it in rehearsal as soon as you feel that it is ready. Ibelieve in doing a part while the spell of its newness is on me. I shallput this on in place of the revival of _Rachel Endicott_." She rose onthe wave of her enthusiasm. "I feel the part taking hold of me. I willmake _Lillian's Duty_ the greatest success of my life, and the lion'sshare of both honor and money shall be yours."
He left the hotel quite as exalted as he had been previously depressed.The pleasure of sitting by her side for four blessed hours enriched himto the point of being sorry for all the rest of the world. The Prince ofWales had been denied an introduction to her, he had read; therefore thePrince was poor.