CHAPTER II
OUT WITH A ROAD COMPANY
Miss Norvell failed to appear at the noon meal, though Winston met theother members of the company. He found them genial enough, evensomewhat boisterous, with the single exception of Mr. Lane, whomaintained a dignified and rather gloomy silence, such as became one ofhis recognized professional standing, after having favored the newcomerwith a long, impertinent stare, apparently expressing disapproval. Themanager was outwardly in most excellent humor, narrating severalstories, at which all, excepting the reserved comedian, laughed quiteheartily. At the conclusion of the repast, Albrecht condescended topurchase his new recruit a cigar, and then walked beside him toward theOpera House, where the necessary instructions in new duties promptlybegan. If Winston had previously imagined his earlier steps towardhistrionic honors were destined to be easy ones, he was very soonundeceived under the guidance of the enthusiastic manager. It proved astrenuous afternoon, yet the young fellow had the right stuff in him tomake good, that stubborn pride which never surrenders beforedifficulties; he shut his teeth, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and wentearnestly to work.
It was a small, cheaply built theatre, having restricted stage space,while a perfect riff-raff of trunks and detached pieces of canvasscenery littered the wings. At first sight it appeared a confusedmedley of odds and ends, utterly impossible to bring into anyconformity to order, but Albrecht recognized each separate piece ofluggage, every detached section of canvas, recalling exactly where itproperly belonged during the coming performance. For more than an hourhe pranced about the dirty stage, shouting minute directions, andgiving due emphasis to them by growling German oaths; while Winston,aided by two local assistants, bore trunks into the variousdressing-rooms, hung drop curtains in designated positions, placed setpieces conveniently at hand, and arranged the various requiredproperties where they could not possibly be overlooked during the rushof the evening's performance. Thus, little by little, order wasevolved from chaos, and the astute manager chuckled happily to himselfin quick appreciation of the unusual rapidity with which the newlyengaged utility man grasped the situation and mastered the confusingdetails. Assuredly he had discovered a veritable jewel in this freshrecruit. At last, the affairs of principal importance having beenattended to, Albrecht left some final instructions, and departed forthe hotel, feeling serenely confident that this young man would carryout his orders to the letter.
And Winston did. He was of that determined nature which performsthoroughly any work once deliberately undertaken; and, although themerest idle whim had originally brought him to this position of utilityman in the "Heart of the World" company, he was already beginning toexperience a slight degree of interest in the success of the comingshow, and to feel a faint _esprit de corps_, which commanded his bestefforts. Indeed, his temporary devotion to the preparation of thestage proved sufficiently strong to obscure partially for the timebeing all recollection of that first incentive which had suggested histaking such a step--the young lady discovered asleep in NumberTwenty-seven. The remembrance of her scarcely recurred to him allthrough the afternoon, yet it finally returned in overwhelming rushwhen, in the course of his arduous labors, he raised up a small leathertrunk and discovered her name painted plainly upon the end of it. Thechalk mark designating where it belonged read "Dressing-room No. 2,"and, instead of rolling it roughly in that direction, as he had rollednumerous others, the new utility man lifted it carefully upon hisshoulder and deposited it gently against the farther wall. He glancedwith curiosity about the restricted apartment to which Miss BethNorvell had been assigned. It appeared the merest hole of a place,narrow and ill-ventilated, the side walls and ceiling composed of roughlumber, and it was evidently designed to be lit at night by a singlegas jet, inclosed within a wire netting. This apartment containedmerely a single rude chair, of the kitchen variety, and an exceedinglysmall mirror cracked across one corner and badly fly-specked. Numerousrusty spikes, intended to hold articles of discarded clothing,decorated both side walls and the back of the door. It was dismallybare, and above all, it was abominably dirty, the dust lying thickeverywhere, the floor apparently unswept for weeks. With anexclamation of disgust Winston hunted up broom and dust-rag, and gavethe gloomy place such a cleansing as it probably had not enjoyed sincethe house was originally erected. At the end of these arduous laborshe looked the scene over critically, the honest perspiration streamingdown his face, glancing, with some newly awakened curiosity, into thesurrounding dressing-rooms. They were equally filthy and unfit foroccupancy, yet he did not feel called upon to invade them with hiscleansing broom. By four o'clock everything was in proper position,the stage set in perfect order for the opening act, and Winstonreturned with his report to the hotel, and to the glowing Albrecht.
Miss Norvell joined the company at the supper table, sitting betweenthe manager and Mr. T. Macready Lane, although Winston was quick toobserve that she gave slight attention to either, except when addresseddirectly. She met the others present with all necessary cordiality andgood-fellowship, yet there appeared a certain undefined reserve abouther manner which led to an immediate hush in the rather freeconversation of what Albrecht was pleased to term the "training table,"and when the murmur of voices was resumed after her entrance, asomewhat better choice of subjects became immediately noticeable.Without so much as either word or look, the silent influence of theactress was plainly for refinement, while her mere presence at thetable gave a new tone to Bohemianism. Winston, swiftly realizing this,began observing the lady with a curiosity which rapidly developed intodeeper interest. He became more and more attracted by her uniquepersonality, which persistently appealed to his aroused imagination,even while there continued to haunt him a dim tantalizing remembrancehe was unable wholly to master. He assuredly had never either seen orheard of this young woman before, yet she constantly reminded him ofthe past. Her eyes, the peculiar contour of her face, the rather oddtrick she had of shaking back the straying tresses of her dark, glossyhair, and, above all, that quick smile with which she greeted any flashof humor, and which produced a fascinating dimple in her cheek, allserved to puzzle and stimulate him; while admiration of her so apparentwomanliness began as instantly to replace the vague curiosity he hadfelt toward her as an actress. She was different from what he hadimagined, with absolutely nothing to suggest the glare and glitter ofthe footlights. Until this time he had scarcely been conscious thatshe possessed any special claim to beauty; yet now, her face, illuminedby those dark eyes filled with quick intelligence, became mostdecidedly attractive, peculiarly lovable and womanly. Besides, sheevidently possessed a rare taste in dress, which met with his masculineapproval. Much of this, it is true, he reasoned out later and slowly,for during that first meal only two circumstances impressed himclearly--the depth of feeling glowing within those wonderfullyrevealing eyes, and her complete ignoring of his presence. If sherecognized any addition to their number, there was not the slightestsign given. Once their eyes met by merest accident; but hersapparently saw nothing, and Winston returned to his disagreeable laborsat the Opera House, nursing a feeling akin to disappointment.
Concealed within the gloomy shadows of the wings, he stood entrancedthat night watching her depict the character of a wife whose previoushappy life had been irretrievably ruined by deceit; and the force, thequiet originality of her depiction, together with its marvellousclearness of detail and its intense realism, held him captive. Theplot of the play was ugly, melodramatic, and entirely untrue to nature;against it Winston's cultivated taste instantly revolted; yet thiswoman interpreted her own part with the rare instinct of a true artist,picturing to the very life the particular character intrusted to her,and holding the house to a breathless realization of what real artisticportrayal meant. In voice, manner, action, in each minute detail offace and figure, she was truly the very woman she represented. It wasan art so fine as to make the auditors forget the artist, forget eventhemselves. Her perfect workmanship, clear-cut, rounded, complete,stoo
d forth like a delicate cameo beside the rude buffoonery of T.Macready Lane, the coarse villany of Albrecht, and the stiff mannerismsof the remainder of the cast. They were automatons as compared with afigure instinct with life animated by intelligence. She seemed toredeem the common clay of the coarse, unnatural story, and give to itsome vital excuse for existence, the howls of laughter greeting thecheap wit of the comedian changed to a sudden hush of expectancy at hermere entrance upon the stage, while her slightest word, or action,riveted the attention. It was a triumph beyond applause, beyond anymere outward demonstration of approval. Winston felt the spell deeply,his entire body thrilling to her marvellous delineation of this commonthing, her uplifting of it out of the vile ruck of its surroundings andgiving unto it the abundant life of her own interpretation. Never oncedid he question the real although untrained genius back of thoseglowing eyes, that expressive face, those sincere, quiet tones which sotouched and swayed the heart. In other days he had seen the stage atits best, and now he recognized in this woman that subtle power whichmust conquer all things, and eventually "arrive."
Early the following morning, tossing uneasily upon a hard cot-bed inthe next town listed in their itinerary, he discovered himself totallyunable to divorce this memory from his thoughts. She even mingled withhis dreams,--a rounded, girlish figure, her young face glowing with theemotions dominating her, her dark eyes grave with thoughtfulness,--andhe awoke, at last, facing another day of servile toil, actuallyrejoicing to remember that he was part of the "Heart of the World."That which he had first assumed from a mere spirit of play, the veriestfreak of boyish adventure, had suddenly developed into a real impulseto which his heart gave complete surrender.
To all outward appearances Miss Beth Norvell remained serenelyunconscious regarding either his admiration or his presence. It wasimpossible to imagine that in so small a company he could continuallypass and repass without attracting notice, yet neither word nor lookpassed between them; no introduction had been accorded, and she merelyignored him, under the natural impression, without doubt, that he wassimply an ignorant roustabout of the stage, a wielder of trunks, amanipulator of scenery, in whom she could feel no possible interest. Aweek passed thus, the troupe displaying their talents to fair business,and constantly penetrating into more remote regions, stopping at allmanner of hotels, travelling in every species of conveyance, andexhibiting their ability, or lack of it, upon every makeshift of astage. Sometimes this was a bare hall; again it was an armory, with anoccasional opera house--like an oasis in the vast desert--to yield themfresh professional courage. Small cities, straggling towns, boisterousmining camps welcomed and speeded them on, until sameness becameroutine, and names grew meaningless. It was the sort of life to testcharacter thoroughly, and the "Heart of the World" troupe of strollersbegan very promptly to exhibit its kind. Albrecht, who was makingmoney, retained his coarse good-nature unruffled by the hardships oftravel; but the majority of the stage people grew morose andfretful,--the eminent comedian, glum and unapproachable as a bear; theleading gentleman swearing savagely over every unusual worry, andacting the boor generally; the _ingenue_, snappy and cat-like. MissNorvell alone among them all appeared as at first, reserved, quiet,uncomplaining, forming no intimate friendships, yet performing hernightly work with constantly augmenting power. Winston, ever observingher with increasing interest, imagined that the strain of such a lifewas telling upon her health, exhibiting its baleful effect in thewhitening of her cheeks, in those darker shadows forming beneath hereyes, as well as in a shade less of animation in her manner. Yet hesaw comparatively little of her, his own work proving sufficientlyonerous; the quick jumps from town to town leaving small opportunityfor either rest or reflection. He had been advanced to a smallspeaking part, but the remainder of his waking hours, while he wasattired in working-clothes, was diligently devoted to the strenuouslabor of his muscles. The novelty of the life had long since vanished,the so eagerly expected experience had already become amply sufficient;again and again, flinging his wearied body upon a cot in some strangeroom, he had called himself an unmitigated ass, and sworn loudly thathe would certainly quit in the morning. Yet the girl held him. He didnot completely realize how or why, yet some peculiar, indefinitefascination appeared to bind his destinies to her; he ever desired tosee her once again, to be near her, to feel the charm of her work, tolisten to the sound of her voice, to experience the thrill of herpresence. So strong and compelling became this influence over him thatday after day he held on, actually afraid to sever that slight bond ofprofessional companionship.
This was most assuredly through no fault of hers. It was atShelbyville that she first spoke to him, first gave him the earliestintimation that she even so much as recognized his presence in thecompany. The house that particular night was crowded to the doors, andshe, completing a piece of work which left her cheeks flushed, herslender form trembling from intense emotion, while the prolongedapplause thundered after her from the front, stepped quickly into thegloomy shadows of the wings, and thus came face to face with Winston.His eyes were glowing with unconcealed appreciation of her art.Perhaps the quick reaction had partially unstrung her nerves, for shespoke with feverish haste at sight of his uprolled sleeves and coarsewoollen shirt.
"How does it occur that you are always standing directly in my passagewhenever I step from the stage?" she questioned impetuously. "Is thereno other place where you can wait to do your work except in my exit?"
For a brief moment the surprised man stood hesitating, hat in hand.
"I certainly regret having thus unintentionally offended you, MissNorvell," he explained at last, slowly. "Yet, surely, the occasionshould bring you pleasure rather than annoyance."
"Indeed! Why, pray?"
"Because I so greatly enjoy your work. I stood here merely that Imight observe the details more carefully."
She glanced directly at him with suddenly aroused interest.
"You enjoy my work?" she exclaimed, slightly smiling. "How extremelydroll! Yet without doubt you do, precisely as those others, outyonder, without the slightest conception of what it all means.Probably you are equally interested in the delicate art of Mr. T.Macready Lane?"
Winston permitted his cool gray eyes to brighten, his firmly set lipsslightly to relax.
"Lane is the merest buffoon," he replied quietly. "You are an artist.There is no comparison possible, Miss Norvell. The play itself isutterly unworthy of your talent, yet you succeed in dignifying it in away I can never cease to admire."
She stood staring straight at him, her lips parted, apparently sothoroughly startled by these unexpected words as to be left speechless.
"Why," she managed to articulate at last, her cheeks flushing, "Isupposed you like the others we have had with us--just--just a commonstage hand. You speak with refinement, with meaning."
"Have you not lived sufficiently long in the West to discover that menof education are occasionally to be found in rough clothing?"
"Oh, yes," doubtfully, her eyes still on his face, "miners, stockmen,engineers, but scarcely in your present employment."
"Miss Norvell," and Winston straightened up, "possibly I may beemployed here for a reason similar to that which has induced you totravel with a troupe of barn-stormers."
She shrugged her shoulders, her lips smiling, the seductive dimpleshowing in her cheeks.
"And what was that?"
"The ambition of an amateur to attain a foothold upon the professionalstage."
"Who told you so?"
"Mr. Samuel Albrecht was guilty of the suggestion.
"It was extremely nice of him to discuss my motives thus freely with astranger. But he told you only a very small portion of the truth. Inmy case it was rather the imperative necessity of an amateur to earnher own living--a deliberate choice between the professional stage andstarvation."
"Without ambition?"
She hesitated slightly, yet there was a depth of respect slumberingwithin those gray eyes gazing so dire
ctly into her darker ones,together with a strength she felt.
"Without very much at first, I fear," she confessed, as thoughadmitting it rather to herself alone, "yet I acknowledge it has sincegrown upon me, until I have determined to succeed."
His eyes brightened, the admiration in them unconcealed, his lipsspeaking impulsively.
"And what is more, Miss Norvell, you 'll make it."
"Do you truly believe so?" She had already forgotten that the manbefore her was a mere stage hand, and her cheeks burned eagerly to theundoubted sincerity of his utterance. "No one else has ever said thatto me--only the audiences have appeared to care and appreciate.Albrecht and all those others have scarcely offered me a word ofencouragement."
"Albrecht and the others are asses," ejaculated Winston, with suddenindignation. "They imagine they are actors because they prance andbellow on a stage, and they sneer at any one who is not in their class.But I can tell you this, Miss Norvell, the manager considers you atreasure; he said as much to me."
She stood before him, the glare of the stage glinting in her hair, herhands clasped, her dark eyes eagerly reading his face as though theseunexpected words of appreciation had yielded her renewed courage, likea glass of wine.
"Really, is that true? Oh, I am so glad. I thought, perhaps, theywere only making fun of me out in front, although I have always triedso hard to do my very best. You have given me a new hope that I mayindeed master the art. Was that my cue?"
She stepped quickly backward, listening to the voices droning on thestage, but there remained still a moment of liberty, and she glanceduncertainly about at Winston.
"Am I to thank you for giving me such immaculate dressing-rooms oflate?" she questioned, just a little archly.
"I certainly wielded the broom."
"It was thoughtful of you," and her clear voice hesitated an instant."Was--was it you, also, who placed those flowers upon my trunk lastevening?"
He bowed, feeling slightly embarrassed by the swift returning restraintin her manner.
"They were most beautiful. Where did you get them?"
"From Denver; they were forwarded by express, and I am only too glad ifthey brought you pleasure."
"Miracle of miracles! A stage-hand ordering roses from Denver! Itmust have cost you a week's salary."
He smiled:
"And, alas, the salary has not even been paid."
Her eyes were uplifted to his face, yet fell as suddenly, shadowedbehind the long lashes.
"I thank you very much," she said, her voice trembling, "only pleasedon't do it again; I would rather not have you."
Before he could frame a satisfactory answer to so unexpected aprohibition she had stepped forth upon the stage.
This brief interview did not prove as prolific of results as Winstonconfidently expected. Miss Norvell evidently considered such casualconversation no foundation for future friendship, and although shegreeted him when they again met, much as she acknowledgedacquaintanceship with the others of the troupe, there remained a quietreserve about her manner, which effectually barred all thought ofpossible familiarity. Indeed, that she ever again considered him as inany way differing from the others about her did not once occur toWinston until one evening at Bluffton, when by chance he stood restingbehind a piece of set scenery and thus overheard the manager as hehalted the young lady on the way to her dressing room.
"Meess Norvell," and Albrecht stood rubbing his hands and smilinggenially, "at Gilchrist we are pilled to blay for dwo nights, und dersecond blay vill be der 'Man from der Vest'--you know dot bart, IdaSomers?"
"Yes," she acknowledged, "I am perfectly acquainted with the lines, butwho is to play Ralph Wilde?"
"Mister Mooney, of course. You tink dot I import some actors venever Ichange der pill?"
She lifted her dark, expressive eyes to his mottled face, slowlygathering up her skirts in one hand.
"As you please," she said quietly, "but I shall not play Ida Somers toMr. Mooney's Ralph Wilde. I told you as much plainly before we leftDenver, and it was for that special reason the 'Heart of the World' wassubstituted. The more I have seen of Mr. Mooney since we took theroad, the less I am inclined to yield in this matter."
Albrecht laughed coarsely, his face reddening.
"Oh, bah!" he exclaimed, gruffly derisive. "Ven you begome star thenyou can have dem tantrums, but not now, not mit me. You blay vat Isay, or I send back after some von else. You bedder not get too gay,or you lose your job damn quick. You don't vant Mooney to make lofe toyou? You don't vant him to giss you?--hey, vos dot it?"
"Yes, that was exactly it."
"Ach!--you too nice to be brofessional; you like to choose your lofer,hey? You forget you earn a livin' so. Vot you got against Mooney?"
Miss Norvell, her cheeks burning indignantly, her eyes already ablaze,did not mince words.
"Nothing personally just so long as he keeps away from me," sheretorted clearly. "He is coarse, vulgar, boorish, and I have far toomuch respect for myself to permit such a man to touch me, either uponthe stage or off; to have him kiss me would be an unbearable insult."
Albrecht, totally unable to comprehend the feelings of the girl,shifted uneasily beneath the sharp sting of her words, yet continued tosmile idiotically.
"Dot is very nice, quite melodramatic, but it is not brofessional,Meess," he stammered, striving to get hold of some satisfactoryargument. "Vy, Mooney vos not so pad. Meess Lyle she act dot bart mithim all der last season, and make no kick. Dunder! vat you vant--anangel? You don't hafe to take dot bart mit me, or Meester Lane either,don 't it, hey?"
Miss Norvell turned contemptuously away from him, her face white withdetermination.
"If you really want to know, there is only one man in all your troupe Iwould consent to play it with," she declared calmly.
"Und dot is?"
"I do not even know his name," and she turned her head justsufficiently to look directly into Albrecht's surprised face; "but Irefer to your new utility man; he, at least, possesses some of theordinary attributes of a gentleman."
The door of her dressing-room opened and closed, leaving the startledmanager standing alone without, gasping for breath, his thick lipsgurgling impotent curses, while Winston discreetly drew farther backamid the intricacy of scenery.