east one charge, that of
cowardice. He was dying, and crowds were waiting about the hotel where he
lay, hungry for any morsel of news from the victim's bedside. That was
the situation as I went to the theatre. I dressed and went through one
act, then, as I came upon the stage in the second act, I faced Mr. Fisk's
private box. I glanced casually at it, and stopped stock-still, the words
dying on my lips. A shiver ran over me--someone had entered the box since
the first act and had lowered the heavy red curtains and drawn them close
together.

No one could fail to understand. The flood of light, the waves of music
reached to the edge of the box only--within were silence, darkness! The
laughing owner would enter there no more, forever!

With swelling throat I stood looking up. Another actor entered, saw the
direction of my eyes, followed it, and next moment tears were on his
cheeks. Then people in the house, noticing our distress, glanced in that
same direction, and here and there a man rose and slipped out. Here and
there a handkerchief was pressed to a face, for without a word being
spoken all knew, by the blank, closed box, that Mr. Fisk was dead.

I never knew a more trying evening for actors, for all knew him
well--liked him and grieved for him. I was the only mere acquaintance,
yet I was deeply moved and found it hard to act as usual before that
mute, blank box--hard as though the body of its one-time owner lay
within.

So he made his exit--dramatic to the last. A strange character--shrewd,
sharp, vain, ostentatious, loving his diamonds, velvet coats, white
gloves. The monumental silver water-pitchers in his private boxes were
too foul to drink from generally, but then the public could see the mass
of silver. A bit of a mountebank, beyond a question, but with a temper so
sunny and a heart so generous that in spite of all his faults Jubilee Jim
had a host of friends.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXTH

A Search for Tears--I Am Punished in "Saratoga" for the Success of "Man
and Wife"--I Win Mr. Daly's Confidence--We Become Friends.

The people who have known happiness without the alloying _if_ or _but_
are few and far between. "Yes, of course we are happy--but," "I should be
perfectly and completely happy--_if_," you hear people saying every day;
and so in my case, having been admitted into fellowship with the men and
women of the company, who were a gracious and charming crowd, and
receiving hearty approval eac