have even wounded me. I will justify
your faith in my powers. I will set to work to-morrow--this very
night--on a new play. I will make you proud of me yet, Helen, my queen,
my love." With that word all his doubts vanished. "Yes, I love her, and
I will win her."

In the glow of his love-born resolution he began to search among his
papers for an unfinished scenario called _Enid's Choice_. When he had
found it he set to work upon it with a concentration that seemed uncanny
in the light of his day's distraction and dismay. _Lillian's Duty_ and
the evening's bitter failure had already grown dim in his mind.

Helen's understanding of him was precise. He was of those who never
really capitulate to the storm, no matter how deeply they may sink at
times in the trough of the sea. As everything had been against him up to
that moment, he was not really taken by surprise. All his life he had
gone directly against the advice and wishes of his family. He had
studied architecture rather than medicine, and had set his face towards
the East rather than the West. Every dollar he had spent he had earned
by toil, and the things he loved had always seemed the wasteful and
dangerous things. He wrote plays in secret when he should have been
soliciting commissions for warehouses, and read novels when he should
have been intent upon his business.

"It was impossible that I should succeed so quickly, so easily, even
with the help of one so powerful as Helen Merival. It is my fate to work
for what I get." And with this return of his belief that to himself
alone he must look for victory, his self-poise and self-confidence came
back.

He looked strong, happy, and very handsome next morning as he greeted
the clerk of the Embric, who had no guile in his voice as he said:

"Good-morning, Mr. Douglass. I hear that your play made a big hit last
night."

"I reckon it hit something," he replied, with easy evasion.

The clerk continued: "My wife's sister was there. She liked it very
much."

"I am very glad she did," replied Douglass, heartily. As he walked over
towards the elevator a couple of young men accosted him.

"Good-morning, Mr. Douglass. We are from _The Blazon_. We would like to
get a little talk out of you about last night's performance. How do you
feel about the verdict."

"It was a 'frost,'" replied Douglass, with engaging candor, "but I don't
consider the verdict final. I am not at all discouraged. You see, it's
all in getting a