ittle to her during these days; he only looked, and his
doleful gestures, his lugubrious grimaces, were comic. He stood to lose
nothing, except possible profits for Helen. She was paying him full
rental, but he claimed that his house was being ruined. "It will get the
reputation of doing nothing but failures," he said to her once, in a
last despairing appeal, and to this she replied:

"Very well. If at the end of four weeks _Enid_ does not pull up to
paying business I will release you from your contract. I will free your
house of Helen Merival."

"No, no! I don't want that. I want you, but I do not want this crazy man
Douglass. You must not leave me!" His voice grew husky with appeal.
"Return to the old plays, sign a five-year contract, and I will make you
again rich."

"There will be time to consider that four weeks hence."

"Yes, but the season is passing."

"Courage, mein Herr!" she said, with a smile, and left him almost in
tears.

XV

As the opening night of _Enid's Choice_ drew near, Douglass suffered
greater anxiety but experienced far less of nervous excitement than
before. He was shaking rather than tense of limb, and did not find it
necessary to walk the streets to calm his physical excitement. He was
depressed by the knowledge that a second defeat would leave him not
merely discredited but practically penniless. Nevertheless, he did not
hide; on the contrary, he took a seat in one of the boxes.

The audience he at once perceived was of totally different character and
temper from that which greeted _Lillian_. It was quiet and moderate in
size, rather less than the capacity of the orchestra seats, for Helen
had asked that no "paper" be distributed. Very few were in the gallery,
and those who were had the quietly expectant air of students. Only three
of the boxes were occupied. The fashionables were entirely absent.

Plainly these people were in their seats out of interest in the play or
because of the known power of the actress. They were not flushed with
wine nor heavy with late dinners.

The critics were out again in force, and this gave the young author a
little satisfaction, for their presence was indisputable evidence of the
interest excited by the literary value of his work. "I have made a
gain," he said, grimly. "Such men do not go gunning for small deer." But
that they were after blood was shown by the sardonic grins with which
they greeted one another as they strolled in at the door