ld. His letter continued:

"I have back of me the conscience of my Scotch forebears, and
though my training in college and in my office has covered my
conscience with a layer of office dust it is still there. Of course
(and obviously) you are not touched by the words and deeds of the
women you represent, but I somehow feel that it is a desecration of
your face and voice to put them to such uses. That is the reason I
dreaded to go back and see you to-night. If you were seeking praise
of your own proper self, the sincerity of this compliment is
unquestionable. I ought to say, 'I hope my words to-night did not
disturb you,' but I will not, for I hope to see you speedily drop
all such hideous characters as _The Baroness Telka_. I felt as an
artist might upon seeing a glorious statue befouled with mire. I
say this not because I wish you to do _Lillian_. In the light of
last night's performance my own play is a gray autumn day with a
touch of frost in the air. It is inconceivable that you should be
vitally interested in it. I fear no play that I care to write will
please a sufficient number of people to make its production worth
your while. I release you from your promise. Believe me, I am
shaken in my confidence to-night. Your audience seemed so
heartless, so debased of taste. They applauded most loudly the
things most revolting to me. Since I have come to know you I cannot
afford to have you make a sacrifice of yourself to produce my play,
much as I desire to see you in new characters."

As he dropped this letter into the box a storm-wave of his former
bitterness and self-accusation swept over him.

"That ends another attempt to get my play staged. Her manager will
unquestionably refuse to consider it."

III

Helen read Douglass's letter next morning while still in bed, and its
forthright assault made her shiver. She did not attempt to deceive
herself. She acknowledged the singular power of this young man to shake
her, to change her course of action. From the first she acknowledged
something almost terrifying in the appeal of his eyes, a power which he
seemed unconscious of. His words of condemnation, of solicitude,
troubled her as the praise of no other man in all her life had done. He
had spoken to her soul, making her triumph over the vast audience
loathsome--almost criminal.

He was handsome-