"Brice," she appealed, after a moment, "do you think I had been saying
anything to set him against her?"
"No," he returned, instantly. "Why should I suspect you of anything so
base?"
Her throat was full, but she made out to say, "No, you are too generous,
too good for such a thing;" and now she went on to eat humble-pie with a
self-devotion which few women could practise. "I know that if I don't
like having her I have no one but myself to thank for it. If I had never
written to that miserable Mr. Sterne, or answered his advertisement, he
would never have heard of your play, and nothing that has happened
would have happened."
"No, you don't know that at all," said Maxwell; and it seemed to her
that she must sink to her knees under his magnanimity. "The thing might
have happened in a dozen different ways."
"No matter. I am to blame for it when it did happen; and now you will
never hear another word from me. Would you like me to swear it?"
"That would be rather unpleasant," said Maxwell.
They both felt a great physical fatigue, and they neither had the wish
to prolong the evening after dinner. Maxwell was going to lock the door
of the apartment at nine o'clock, and then go to bed, when there came a
ring at it. He opened it, and stood confronted with Grayson, looking
very hot and excited.
"Can I come in a moment?" the manager asked. "Are you alone? Can I speak
with you?"
"There's no one here but Mrs. Maxwell," said her husband, and he led the
way into the parlor.
"And if you don't like," Louise confessed to have overheard him, "you
needn't speak before her even."
"No, no," said the manager, "don't go! We may want your wisdom. We
certainly want all the wisdom we can get on the question. It's about
Godolphin."
"Godolphin?" they both echoed.
"Yes. He's given up the piece."
The manager drew out a letter, which he handed to Maxwell, and which
Louise read with her husband, over his shoulder. It was addressed to
Grayson, and began very formally.
"DEAR SIR:
"I wish to resign to you all claim I may have to a joint interest
in Mr. Maxwell's piece, and to withdraw from the company formed for
its representation. I feel that my part in it has been made
secondary to another, and I have finally decided to relinquish it
altogether. I trust that you will be able to supply my place, and I
offer you my best wishes for the success of your enterprise.
"Yours very truly,
"L. GODOLPHIN."
The Maxwells did not look at each other; they both looked at the
manager, and neither spoke.
"You see," said the manager, putting the letter back in its envelope,
"it's Miss Havisham. I saw some signs of what was coming at the
rehearsals, but I didn't think it would take such peremptory shape."
"Why, but he was here only a few hours ago, praising her to the skies,"
said Louise; and she hoped that she was keeping secret the guilty joy
she felt; but probably it was not unknown to her husband.
"Oh, of course," said Grayson, with a laugh, "that was Godolphin's way.
He may have felt all that he said; or he may have been trying to find
out what Mr. Maxwell thought, and whether he could count upon him in a
move against her."
"We said nothing," cried Louise, and she blessed heaven that she could
truly say so, "which could possibly be distorted into that."
"I didn't suppose you had," said the manager. "But now we have got to
act. We have got to do one of two things, and Godolphin knows it; we
have got to let Miss Havisham go, or we have got to let him go. For my
part I would much rather let him go. She is a finer artist every way,
and she is more important to the success of the piece. But it would be
more difficult to replace him than it would be to replace her, and he
knows it. We could get Miss Pettrell at once for Salome, and we should
have to look about for a Haxard. Still, I am disposed to drop Godolphin,
if Mr. Maxwell feels as I do."
He looked at Maxwell; but Louise lowered her eyes, and would not
influence her husband by so much as a glance. It seemed to her that he
was a long time answering.
"I am satisfied with Godolphin's Haxard much better than I am with Miss
Havisham's Salome, strong as it is. On the artistic side alone, I
should prefer to keep Godolphin and let her go, if it could be done
justly. Then, I know that Godolphin has made sacrifices and borne losses
on account of the play, and I think that he has a right to a share in
its success, if it has a chance of succeeding. He's jealous of Miss
Havisham, of course; I could see that from the first minute; but he's
earned the first place, and I'm not surprised he wants to keep it. I
shouldn't like to lose it if I were he. I should say that we ought to
make any concession he asks in that way."
"Very well," said Grayson. "He will ask to have our agreement with Mrs.
Harley broken; and we can say that we were compelled to break it. I feel
as you do, that he has some right on his side. She's a devilish
provoking woman--excuse me, Mrs. Maxwell!--and I've seen her trying to
take the centre from Godolphin ever since the rehearsals began; but I
don't like to be driven by him; still, there are worse things than being
driven. In any case we have to accept the inevitable, and it's only a
question of which inevitable we accept. Good-night. I will see Godolphin
at once. Good-night, Mrs. Maxwell. We shall expect you to do what you
can in consoling your fair neighbor and reconciling _her_ to the
inevitable." Louise did not know whether this was ironical or not, and
she did not at all like the laugh from Maxwell which greeted the
suggestion.
"_I_ shall have to reconcile Sterne, and I don't believe that will be
half so easy."
The manager's words were gloomy, but there was an imaginable relief in
his tone and a final cheerfulness in his manner. He left the Maxwells to
a certain embarrassment in each other's presence. Louise was the first
to break the silence that weighed upon them both.
"Brice, did you decide that way to please me?"
"I am not such a fool," said Maxwell.
"Because," she said, "if you did, you did very wrong, and I don't
believe any good could come of it."
Yet she did not seem altogether averse to the risks involved; and in
fact she could not justly accuse herself of what had happened, however
devoutly she had wished for such a consummation.