when Helen,
white and agitated, reappeared, breathlessly asking, "Where is he; has
he gone?"

"Yes; I am glad to say he has."

"Call him back--quick! Don't let him go away angry. I must see him
again! Go, bring him back!"

Hugh took her by the arm. "What do you intend to do--give him another
chance to insult you? He isn't worth another thought from you. Let him
go, and his plays with him."

The orchestra, roaring on its _finale_, ended with a crash. Hugh lifted
his hand in warning. "There goes the curtain, Helen. Go on. Don't let
him kill your performance. Go on!" And he took her by the arm.

The training as well as the spirit and quality of the actress reasserted
their dominion, and as she walked out upon the stage not even the
searching glare of the foot-lights could reveal the cold shadow which
lay about her heart.

When the curtain fell on the final "picture" she fairly collapsed,
refusing to take the curtain call which a goodly number of her auditors
insisted upon. "I'm too tired," she made answer to Hugh. "Too
heart-sick," she admitted to herself, for Douglass was gone with angry
lights in his eyes, bearing bitter and accusing words in his ears. The
temple of amusement was at the moment a place of sorrow, of despair.

XVI

Douglass knew before he had set foot upon the pavement that his life was
blasted, that his chance of success and Helen's love were gone,
forfeited by his own egotism, his insane selfishness; but it was only a
half-surrender; something very stark and unyielding rose within him,
preventing his return to ask forgiveness. The scorn, the contempt of
Hugh's words, and the lines of loathing appearing for the first time in
Helen's wonderfully sensitive face burned each moment deeper into his
soul. The sorrows of _Enid's_ world rose like pale clouds above the
immovable mountains of his shame and black despair.

He did not doubt for a moment but that this separation was final. "After
such a revelation of my character," he confessed, "she can do nothing
else but refuse to see me. I have only myself to blame. I was insane,"
and he groaned with his torment. "She is right. Hugh is right in
defending his household against me. My action was that of a fool--a
hideous, egotistic fool."

Seeking refuge in his room, he faced his future in nerveless dejection.
His little store of money was gone, and his profession, long abandoned,
seemed at the moment a broken staff--his place on the press in d