'Look at me here!'
five times before her friends would allow the piece to proceed. At the end
of the act she received an ovation. Two reporters of the local newspapers
obtained permission to come behind to see her. London engagements were
spoken of, and in the general enthusiasm someone talked about grand opera.
Even her fellow artists forgot their jealousies, and in the nervous
excitement of the moment complimented her highly. Beaumont, anxious to kick
down her rival, declared, 'That, to say the least of it, it was a better
rendering of the part than Leslie's.' And on hearing this, Bret, whose
forte was not repartee, moved away; Mortimer, in his least artificial
manner, said that it was not bad for a beginning and that she'd get on if
she worked at it. Dubois strutted and spoke learnedly of how the part had
been played in France, and he was pleased to trace by an analysis which was
difficult to follow a resemblance between Kate and Madame Judic.
The second act went equally well. And after seeing the ghosts she got a
bouquet thrown to her, so cheekily did she sing the refrain:
'For a regiment of soldiers wouldn't make me afraid.'
She had therefore now only to maintain her prestige to the end, and when
she had got her encore for the cider song, and had been recalled before the
curtain at the end of the third act, with unstrung nerves she wandered to
her dressing-room, thinking of what Dick would say when they got home. But
the pleasures of the evening were not over yet: there was the supper, and
as she came down from her dressing-room she whispered to Montgomery in the
wings that they hoped to see him at their place later on. He thanked her
and said he would be very glad to come in a little later on, but he had
some music to copy now and must away, and feeling a little disappointed
that he had to leave she walked up and down the rough boards, stepping out
of the way of the scene-shifters. 'By your leave, ma'am,' they cried, going
by her with the long swinging wings. She was glad now that Montgomery had
left her, for alone she could relive distinctly every moment of the
performance.
As the chorus-girls crossed the stage they stopped to compliment her with a
few mechanical words and a hard smile. Kate thanked them and returned to
her dream all aglow and absorbed in remembrances of her success. The word
'success' returned in her thoughts like the refrain of a song. Yes, she had
succeeded. Wherever she went she would be admired. There was something to
live for at last.
The T-light flared, and she stopped and began to wonder at the invention,
so absurd did it seem; and then feeling that such thoughts were a waste of
time, she took up the thread of her memories and had just begun to enjoy
again a certain round of applause when Beaumont and Dolly Goddard awoke her
with the question, had she seen Dick? Kate tried to remember. A
scene-shifter going by said that he had seen Mr. Lennox leave the theatre
some twenty minutes ago.
'I suppose he will come back for me,' Kate said; 'or perhaps I'd better go
on? Are you coming my way?'
Beaumont and Dolly said they were and proposed that they should pop into a
pub before closing time. Kate hesitated to accept the invitation, but
Beaumont insisted, and as it was a question of drinking to the night's
success she consented to accompany them.
'No, not here,' said Beaumont, shoving the swing-doors an inch or so apart:
'it's too full. I'll show you the way round by the side entrance.'
And giggling, the girls slipped into the private apartment.
'What will you have, dear?' asked Beaumont in an apologetic whisper.
'I think I'll have a whisky.'
'You'll have the same, Dolly?'
'Scotch or Irish?' asked the barman.
The girls consulted a moment and decided in favour of Irish.
With nods and glances, the health of Serpolette was drunk, and then fearing
to look as if she were sponging, Kate insisted on likewise standing treat.
Fortunately, when the second round had been drunk, closing time was
announced by the man in the shirtsleeves, and bidding her friends good-bye,
Kate stood in the street trying to think if she ought to return to the
theatre to look after Dick or go home and find him there.
She decided on the latter alternative and walked slowly along the street. A
chill wind blew up from the sea, and the sudden transition from the hot
atmosphere of the bar brought the fumes of the whisky to her head and she
felt a little giddy. An idea of drunkenness suggested itself; it annoyed
her, and repulsing it vehemently, her thoughts somewhat savagely fastened
on to Dick as the culprit. 'Where had he gone?' she asked, at first
curiously, but at each repetition she put the question more sullenly to
herself. If he had come back to fetch her she would not have been led into
going into the public-house with Beaumont; and, irritated that any shadow
should have fallen on the happiness of the evening, she walked sturdily
along until a sudden turn brought her face to face with her lover.
'Oh!' he said, starting. 'Is that you, Kate? I was just cutting back to the
theatre to fetch you.'
'Yes, a nice time you've kept me waiting,' she answered; but as she spoke
she recognized the street they were in as the one in which Leslie lived.
The blood rushed to her face, and tearing the while the paper fringe of her
bouquet, she said, 'I know very well where you've been to! I want no
telling. You've been round spending your time with Leslie.'
'Well,' said Dick, embarrassed by the directness with which she divined his
errand, 'I don't see what harm there was in that; I really thought that I
ought to run and see how she was.'
Struck by the reasonableness of this answer, Kate for the moment remained
silent, but a sudden remembrance forced the anger that was latent in her to
her head, and facing him again she said:
'How dare you tell me such a lie! You know very well you went to see her
because you like her, because you love her.'
Dick looked at her, surprised.
'I assure you, you're mistaken,' he said. But at that moment Bret passed
them in the street, hurrying towards Leslie's. The meeting was an
unfortunate one, and it sent a deeper pang of jealousy to Kate's heart.
'There,' she said, 'haven't I proof of your baseness? What do you say to
that?'
'To what?'
'Don't pretend innocence. Didn't you see Bret passing? You choose your time
nicely to pay visits--just when he should be out.'
'Oh!' said Dick, surprised at the ingenuity of the deduction. 'I give you
my word that such an idea never occurred to me.'
But before he could get any further with his explanation Kate again cut him
short, and in passionate words told him he was a monster and a villain. So
taken aback was he by this sudden manifestation of temper on the part of
one in whom he did not suspect its existence, that he stopped, to assure
himself that she was not joking. A glance sufficed to convince him; and
making frequent little halts between the lamp-posts to argue the different
points more definitely, they proceeded home quarrelling. But on arriving at
the door, Kate experienced a moment of revolt that surprised herself. The
palms of her hands itched, and consumed with a childish desire to scratch
and beat this big man, she beat her little feet against the pavement. Dick
fumbled at the lock. The delay still further irritated her, and it seemed
impossible that she could enter the house that night.
'Aren't you coming in?' he said at last.
'No, not I. You go back to Miss Leslie; I'm sure she wants you to attend to
her ankle.'
This was too absurd, and Dick expostulated gently. But nothing he could say
was of the slightest avail, and she refused to move from the doorstep. Then
began a long argument; and in brief phrases, amid frequent interruptions,
all sorts of things were discussed. The wind blew very cold; Kate did not
seem to notice it, but Dick shivered in his fat; and noticing his trembling
she taunted him with it, and insultingly advised him to go to bed. Not
knowing what answer to give to this, he walked into the sitting-room and
sat down by the fire. How long would she remain on the doorstep? he asked
himself humbly, until his reflections were interrupted by the sound of
steps. It was Montgomery, and chuckling, Dick listened to him reasoning
with Kate. The cold was so intense that the discussion could not be
continued for long; and when the two friends entered Dick was prepared for
a reconciliation. But in this he was disappointed. She merely consented to
sit in the armchair, glaring at her lover. Montgomery tried to argue with
her, but he could scarcely succeed in getting her to answer him, and it was
not until he began to question Dick on the reason of the quarrel that she
consented to speak; and then her utterances were rather passionate denials
of her lover's statements than any distinct explanation. There were also
long silences, during which she sat savagely picking at the paper of the
bouquet, which she still retained. At last Montgomery, noticing the supper
that no one cared to touch, said:
'Well, all I know is, that it's very unfortunate that you should have
chosen this night of all others, the night of her success, to have a row. I
expected a pleasant evening.'
'Success, indeed!' said Kate, starting to her feet. 'Was it for such a
success as this that he took me away from my home? Oh, what a fool I was!
Success! A lot I care for the success, when he has been spending the
evening with Leslie.' And unable to contain herself any longer, she tore a
handful of flowers out of her bouquet and threw them in Dick's face.
Handful succeeded handful, each being accompanied by a shower of vehement
words. The two men waited in wonderment, and when passionate reproaches and
spring flowers were alike exhausted, a flood of tears and a rush into the
next room ended the scene.