way. He began to grip his lines, and that
gave the star her first opportunity to forget his weakness and throw
herself into her part. All in all, only a very discriminating ear could
have detected a falling-off of favor in this act. The curtain was lifted
four times, and a few feeble cries for the author were heard, chiefly
from the first balcony.

Here was the point whereat his hoped-for triumph was to have begun, but
it did not. He was touched by an invisible hand which kept him to his
seat, though he knew that Helen was waiting for him to receive,
hand-in-hand with her, the honors of the act.

Some foreknowledge of defeat clarified the young author's vision, and a
bitter melancholy crept over him as the third act unrolled. "They will
go out," he said to himself, "and they will not come back for the last
act. The play is doomed to disaster." And a flame of hatred rose in his
heart against the audience. "They are brutes!" he muttered.

The scenes were deeply exciting, the clash of interest upon interest was
swift, novel in sequence, and most dramatic in outcome, but the applause
was sharp and spasmodic, not long continued and hearty as before. Some
of the men who had clapped loudest at the opening now sat gnawing their
mustaches in sullen resentment.

Douglass divined their thought: "This is a confidence game. We came to
be amused, and this fellow instructs in sociology. We didn't cough up
two dollars to listen to a sermon; we came to be rested. There's trouble
enough in the street without displaying it in a place of amusement. The
fellow ought to be cut out."

Others ceased to cheer because both acting and play had mounted beyond
their understanding. Its grim humor, its pitiless character-drawing,
wearied them. Audience and play, speaking generally, were at
cross-purposes. A minority, it was true, caught every point, shouting
with great joy, and a few, who disapproved of the play, but were most
devoted admirers of Helen's art, joined half-heartedly in their
applause. But the act closed dismally, notwithstanding its tremendous
climax. A chill east wind had swept over the auditorium and a few
sensitive souls shivered. "What right has Helen Merival to do a thing
like this? What possesses her? It must be true that she is infatuated
with this young man and produces his dreadful plays to please him."

"They say she is carried away with him. He's very handsome, they tell
me. I wish they'd call him out."

A buzz of co