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.

Godolphin 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Chicago, to tell the author that he had withdrawn it because its failure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
manuscript, 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 Godolphin
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 Godolphin 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 assented, 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