Maxwell and Louise had torn at each other's hearts till they were
bleeding, and he wished to come back at once and she wished him to come,
that they might hurt themselves still more savagely; but when this
desire passed, they longed to meet and bind up one another's wounds.
This better feeling brought them together before night-fall, when
Maxwell returned, and Louise, at the sound of his latch-key in the door,
ran to let him in.
"Mr. Godolphin is here," she said, in a loud, cheery voice, and he
divined that he owed something of his eager welcome to her wish to keep
him from resuming the quarrel unwittingly. "He has just come to talk
over the rehearsal with you, and I wouldn't let him go. I was sure you
would be back soon."
She put her finger to her lip, with whatever warning intention, and
followed her husband into the presence of the actor, and almost into
his arms, so rapturous was the meeting between them.
"Well," cried Godolphin, "I couldn't help looking in a moment to talk
with you and Mrs. Maxwell about our Salome. I feel that she will make
the fortune of the piece--of any piece. Doesn't Miss Havisham's
rendition grow upon you? It's magnificent. It's on the grand scale. It's
immense. The more I think about it, the more I'm impressed with it.
She'll carry the house by storm. I've never seen anything like it; and
I'm glad to find that Mrs. Maxwell feels just as I do about it." Maxwell
looked at his wife, who returned his glance with a guiltless eye. "I was
afraid she might feel the loss of things that certainly _are_ lost in
it. I don't say that Miss Havisham's Salome, superb as it is, is _your_
Salome--or Mrs. Maxwell's. I've always fancied that Mrs. Maxwell had a
great deal to do with that character, and--I don't know why--I've always
thought of her when I've thought of _it_; but at the same time it's a
splendid Salome. She makes it Southern, almost tropical. It isn't the
Boston Salome. You may say that it is wanting in delicacy and the nice
shades; but it's full of passion; there's nothing caviare to the general
in it. The average audience will understand just what the girl that
Miss Havisham gives is after, and she gives her so abundantly that
there's no more doubt of the why than there is of the how. Sometimes I
used to think the house couldn't follow Miss Pettrell in her subtle
touches, but the house, to the topmost tier of the gallery, will get
Miss Havisham's intention."
Godolphin was standing while he said all this, and Maxwell now asked:
"Won't you sit down?"
The actor had his overcoat on his arm, and his hat in one hand. He
tapped at his boot with the umbrella he held in the other. "No, I don't
believe I will, thank you. The fact is, I just dropped in a moment to
reassure you if you had misgivings about the Salome, and to give you my
point of view."
Maxwell did not say anything; he looked at Louise again, and it seemed
to her that he meant her to speak. She said, "Oh, we understood that we
couldn't have all kinds of a Salome in one creation of the part; and I'm
sure no one can see Mrs. Harley in it without feeling her intensity."
"She's a force," said Godolphin. "And if, as we all decided," he
continued, to Maxwell, "when we talked it over with Grayson, that a
powerful Salome would heighten the effect of Haxard, she is going to
make the success of the piece."
"_You_ are going to make the success of the piece!" cried Louise.
"Ah, I sha'n't care if they forget me altogether," said the actor; "I
shall forget myself." He laughed his mellow, hollow laugh, and gave his
hand to Louise and then to Maxwell. "I'm so glad you feel as you do
about it, and I don't wish you to lose your faith in our Salome for a
moment. You've quite confirmed mine." He wrung the hands of each with a
fervor of gratitude that left them with a disquiet which their eyes
expressed to each other when he was gone.
"What does it mean?" asked Louise.