o wrestled upon the mat.
She touched life through her marvellous intuition at a hundred points.

He was not discouraged, therefore, when, as they were going out, she
said, with a quick clasp of her hand on his arm, "This matchless music
makes our venture seem very small." He understood her mood, and to a
lesser degree shared it.

"I don't want to talk," she said at the door of her carriage. "Good-bye
till Monday night. Courage!"

VIII

Deprivation of Helen's companionship even for a day produced in Douglass
such longing that his hours were misery, and, though Sunday was long and
lonely, Monday stretched to an intolerable length. He became greatly
disturbed, and could neither work nor sit still, so active was his
imagination. He tried to sleep, but could not, even though his nerves
were twitching for want of it; and at last, in desperate resolution, he
set himself the task of walking to Grant's tomb and back, in the hope
that physical weariness would benumb his restless brain. This good
result followed. He was in deep slumber when the bell-boy rapped at his
door and called, "Half-past six, sir."

He sprang up, moved by the thought, "In two hours Helen will be entering
upon that first great scene," and for the first time gave serious
consideration to the question of an audience. "I hope Westervelt has
neglected nothing. It would be shameful if Helen played to a single
empty seat. I will give tickets away on the sidewalk rather than have it
so. But, good Heavens, such a condition is impossible!"

After dressing with great care, he hastened directly to the theatre. It
was early, and as he stepped into the entrance he found only the
attendants, smiling, expectant, in their places. A doubt of success
filled him with sudden weakness, and he slipped out on the street again,
not caring to be recognized by any one at that hour. "They will laugh at
my boyish excitement," he said, shamefacedly.

Broadway, the chief thoroughfare of the pleasure-seekers of all
America, was just beginning to thicken with life. The cafes were sending
forth gayly dressed groups of diners jovially crowding into their
waiting carriages. Automobiles and cabs were rushing northward to meet
the theatre-goers of the up-town streets, while the humbler patrons of
the "family circles" and "galleries" of the play-houses lower down were
moving southward on foot, sharing for a few moments in the brilliancy
and wealth of the upper avenue. The surface