BEFORE THE CURTAIN ROSE
Gordon stopped short before Martha, involuntarily impressed at the
pleasing picture she made, clad in her simple but effective first-act
dress, as she half kneeled on the ottoman in the center of the
green-room, repeating to herself the lines from her part, which she held
in her hand and at which she occasionally glanced to refresh her memory.
"You are indeed beautiful to-night," he half whispered, approaching her
closer. Martha turned toward him coldly.
"Did you force yourself upon me this way just to utter such a
commonplace remark as that?" she asked.
"Force myself?" repeated Gordon, half indignantly.
"Yes. You know that I am nervous and excited over this performance
to-night. In a few moments I will have to face an unsympathetic
audience, ready to laugh if I score a failure, reluctant to concede
success. At such a time, how can you imagine I want to talk to any one?
All my strength and energy are needed for this conflict to-night, and it
was unkind of you to insist upon coming here at this moment."
Gordon drew a chair near the ottoman and motioned for her to be seated.
Martha reluctantly sat beside him, her thoughts far away, her ears
listening intently for the curtain music to indicate the beginning of
the first act.
"If you had refused to see me just now," said Gordon, quietly but
incisively, "the curtain would never have risen to-night. In fact, I am
not sure now that it will rise."
[Illustration: MARTHA FARNUM (ELSIE JANIS)]
Martha looked at him in simple amazement. "Nonsense," she replied. "The
curtain will rise in a few minutes."
"It will when you say the word, provided it suits me also."
"What do you mean?" Martha's voice expressed curiosity only.
"The time is short, so I will speak plainly," said Gordon, tensely. "I
have purposely waited until the last moment so you could see both sides
of the picture. On the one hand, here are you, Martha Farnum, about to
make your actual appearance as a star at a Broadway theater. In six
months or less you have been transformed from a simple country girl to a
position often denied those who struggle for many years. Who do you
think has accomplished all this for you? Who is making you a star
to-night?"
"Why--why, Mr. Weldon, of course," replied Martha, slightly bewildered.
"Who else?"
Gordon laughed with just the suggestion of a sneer.
"I am," he said coldly.
"You? Impossible!" Martha rose in amazement.
"For three months I have made it possible for you to have everything a
woman can want," continued Gordon, calmly, coming to her. "To-night the
climax is reached when you make your appearance as a star--if you
appear. While you have thought your natural talents were receiving just
recognition, I have been paying the bills."
"And if what you say is true--all true--what then?" Martha gazed at him
blankly, as though dazed.
"This. What I have done, I have done because of my admiration for you.
Up to this moment I have asked nothing in return, but now I do."
"Return? You mean--?"
"You're not such a fool as you'd have me think. What of the handsome
apartment you are living in, furnished by Mr. Weldon and supposed to be
paid for out of the salary you are to receive? Do you think Mr. Weldon
really paid the rent? No, my dear. I did."
"No, no, no--I don't believe it," cried Martha, shrinking from him.
"It's incredible."
"I don't care a rap for the money I have spent," cried Gordon, following
her. "I'd give it ten times over if you only loved me."
"Loved you?" repeated Martha, scornfully. "How can you--"
"Don't say no too hastily, Martha. I think I care more for you than I
ever did for any one else. I'll make you happy. There's nothing that my
money won't do or can't do. We can go around the world together--to
Paris, Vienna, India, Japan, anywhere you like." He came nearer.
"Martha, in all the time I have known and loved you, I have never had
one kiss. Shall I have the first to-night?"
The girl turned and faced him squarely with flashing eyes.
"Neither to-night nor any other night," she cried in ringing tones.
"You mean it?" Gordon's face was pale and drawn.
"Yes."
"Is that your final answer?" he asked, after a pause.
"It is," she replied defiantly.
"Then listen to me," declared Gordon, his face flushed with sudden
anger. "Either you pledge your word to accept me on my own terms here
and now, or you will never make your entrance on that stage. Ah," he
added, as Martha reeled at the sudden realization of how completely he
controlled the situation, "that hits your vanity, does it? A nice little
story for the newspapers to-morrow. Theater closed, audience dismissed,
new star such a pitiful failure that she is too frightened to appear."
"But that isn't true--that isn't true," cried Martha.
"Isn't it? Try and convince the public otherwise."
"I will, and that curtain shall go up to-night" Martha faced him bravely
enough, though her courage almost failed her.
"Try it and see whose orders will be obeyed. Listen--the orchestra has
finished the overture. Think carefully, for your final answer now
decides your fate. You are at the parting of the ways. A future with me,
everything you desire, or back to your days of poverty."
Weldon appeared as Martha seemed to hesitate.
"Shall I ring up the curtain?" he asked quietly.
"Wait," replied Gordon. He turned to Martha. "Your answer?"
Martha did not look at him. "No," she replied simply.
Gordon drew in his breath quickly, and the concentrated anger seemed
almost ready to burst its bonds. He stood looking at her intently for a
moment, then apparently realizing that he was unable to alter her
decision, he threw up his hands with a despairing gesture and started
toward the door.
"There will be no performance, Weldon," he said roughly. "Dismiss the
audience, pay everybody their salaries, and wind up the whole cursed
business. I have sunk twenty thousand dollars for a hobby and a pretty
face, but now, thank God, I'm through. I'm cured. That's
all--good-night."
"One moment before you go," cried Martha, stung to the quick. "You may
have dazzled other girls before with your golden shower. You may have
rung up curtains on success, and claimed your reckoning, but this time,
even though you have brought me failure and humiliation, you may mark
one failure for yourself. Good-night." And with a proud gesture of
independence, she turned her back upon him, and went into her
dressing-room, while Gordon, with a muttered exclamation, left the
green-room for the front of the theater.
As quickly as possible the despairing Weldon gave the necessary orders.
The moment the players understood there would be no performance,
pandemonium broke loose. In an instant the green-room was filled with a
crowd of excited players in oddly contrasting costumes, all chattering
away for dear life.
"No performance?" cried Flossie Forsythe. "What does it all mean?"
"Ain't I ever going to play a real part?" wailed Pinkie.
"My first time on Broadway, too," said Arthur Mortimer, sadly.
"I never heard of such an outrageous proceeding," shouted Arnold
Lawrence, pompously. "No performance, indeed? I was engaged for the
season, and I shall sue for a season's salary."
"You were engaged for the run of the play," retorted Weldon,
indignantly. "If the play doesn't have a run you are entitled to
nothing, but I give you and every one else two weeks' salary."
"It is an insult to an artist," insisted Lawrence, turning to a group of
the dissatisfied and disappointed players.
Suddenly the door through the boxes was thrown open and Clayton entered.
"What does it all mean?" he demanded. "The theater is crowded with a lot
of people who want to know the reason for the sudden announcement. Why
will there be no performance?" he added, drawing Weldon aside.
"I had to do it, Mr. Clayton," explained Weldon, privately. "You see it
is not my production--I had to obey the orders of my financial backer."
"You mean--"
"Gordon. Yes."
"I see. Affairs came to a climax to-night," said Clayton. "I suspected
something underhanded, but I didn't believe even Gordon capable of such
a trick." He paused an instant. "Look here, Weldon, is this theater
leased in your name?"
"Certainly," replied Weldon, promptly.
"Then you could give the performance if you wanted to?"
"But Mr. Gordon will not pay the bills unless I carry out his orders,"
protested Weldon.
Clayton slapped him eagerly on the back. "Then carry out my orders," he
cried enthusiastically, "and I will pay the bills."
"You?" Weldon's eyes lit up with renewed interest. He saw before him
another prospective backer to take the place of the one who had just
deserted him. "You? Of course it _could_ be done, Clayton, the lease is
in my name."
"Then that's settled," declared Clayton, quickly. "You know me and you
know my checks are good. Quick--send some one out to make an
announcement to the audience that there _will_ be a performance."
As the stage manager hurriedly started toward the curtain, Lawrence,
who had overheard this dialogue, strutted toward Clayton.
"All very good," he cried pompously. "But what about my salary?"
"How much do you get?" inquired Clayton.
Lawrence came close to him. "Four hundred a week," he whispered.
Clayton turned to Weldon. "How much does this man get, Weldon?" he
inquired.
"Seventy a week," Weldon answered quickly.
Lawrence fairly fumed with rage, while the members of the company
tittered.
"The terms of my contract are sacred and confidential," he protested. "I
accepted the reduced salary only because it is late in the season. You
had no right to expose the secrets of our contract."
Clayton laughed. "I'll give you a hundred if you go on and give a good
performance," he volunteered. "Weldon, make out the salary list of this
company, and I'll give you a check covering two weeks' salaries for each
member of the organization. Figure up how much the theater costs, and
whatever Gordon hasn't paid, I will. Now, everybody get ready for the
first act, and ring up the curtain."
Martha, alone in her dressing-room, had heard Clayton giving his
peremptory commands. Half dazed yet at the sudden apparent collapse of
the play, she scarcely realized that defeat was even now being turned
into victory. But the command to get ready for the act awoke her from
her lethargy.
"Mr. Clayton," she cried, coming to him, "how can you do all this?"
"I'm not as rich as Gordon," he replied, looking at her a bit
reproachfully. "Not by a long shot, but I guess you can star for a night
anyway, Martha, even with a one-horse angel."
"You are not doing all this for me? Why, it would be better to let the
whole thing be a total failure than to take such a risk."
"I am doing it because it pleases me," explained Clayton. "And because I
want you to have every chance for success that they tried to rob you
of."
"Just wish me luck?" asked Martha, softly, holding out her hand.
"I wish you everything you wish yourself," he replied.
"The curtain is up, Miss Farnum," cried Lizzie, entering for a moment
from the stage. "It is nearly time for your entrance."
"Wish me success," pleaded Martha, again.
"Is that all you wish for?" asked Clayton, going with her toward the
stage. "If that is all you wish, I hope from the bottom of my heart you
will win it to-night."
Martha withdrew her hand, turned, and half smiled, just before stepping
upon the stage.
"I wonder if it is?" she said wistfully, and in another moment Clayton
heard a roll of applause go over the house as she stepped before the
footlights.