CHAPTER XV
"WHEN STARS GROW COLD"
Herrick sat without moving while the shadows played out their play. Buthe saw them no longer. They had begun and ended for him with thatcertainty which it seemed to him, now, that he had always felt.
When Christina's film came round again he watched it carefully allthrough from the beginning. The play was of some western episode, and hesaw Christina come on, a spare slip of a girl in short skirts and longbraids, a little awkward, a little jerky, like a suspicious colt, and heobserved quite coolly what she had gained in five years. He saw Dennycome on, dressed as a Mexican--cast for the villain even then!--and hesaw for himself how greatly Denny had been her superior in those days,and all the method and knowledge which she had absorbed from him as sheabsorbed everything from everybody; and Herrick smiled there, in thedarkness, to think of it. As the action of the play quickened it shookthe novice from her self-consciousness; the promise of her great talentbegan to show; already she did things that were magnificent; and when atlast her wedding was interrupted at the church door by the Mexican'sattempt to claim her as his sweetheart, her fire and fury became superb.Herrick leaned forward watching. He saw Denny pour out his accusation,he saw the bridegroom hesitate, he saw Christina sweep round denouncingthem both, saw the lithe, tense length of her, and her proudly liftedhead, saw her suddenly fling one arm up and out in her strange andsplendid gesture of her free, her desperate passion; the hand clenchedfor an instant and then the fingers slowly spreading and stiffening inthe air. He waited for the shot, but no shot came. Only once more theshadow turned and revealed the young face of Christina, as she was atseventeen, and shone upon him through the darkness with Christina'seyes. Herrick rose to his feet and pushed out of the theater. Thestreets were full of wind and rain, but he did not know it, and alongthe crowded crossings, among multitudes that he did not see, he had theluck of the drunken and the blind.
He walked for hours without knowing where he went. His soaked clotheshung on him like lead and the wind pounded him and made him wrestle withit, but the burning poison of his thoughts could not be put out by windor rain. Towards nightfall he found himself at the door of the housewhere he lived, and having nothing else to do, he went in. Hissitting-room was dark and cold; he threw himself into a chair andlounged there, sodden with fatigue and wet, and staring at the emptygrate. There, when it was all aglow, had she leaned to him and put herface to his and lied. As she had lied to Ingham, waking on his breast!As she had lied to Denny, folded in his arms! Harlot and liar, liar andcheat--oh, liar, liar, liar! For that was the poison in the wound, andthe bitterness beyond death--that not for one hour had she been true!That flower-sweetness of her dear touch, of her hand in his, was ascorrupt as hell. His dear, wild, brave, demure Diana had never drawn onebreath of life--and the adventuress who wore her masque had all alonglaughed at him in her sleeve! If she had only told him! It was achallenge he could have met and carried; he felt his hand lock onChristina's, strong to draw her from any quicksand of which shestruggled to be free. But that she should have fooled him and playedwith him and led him blindfold, that she should have gone out of her wayto snare and laugh at him--what one of the lies with which she had beenwaiting for him this noon could he now believe? She had betrayed andthrown over Ingham for Denny as she had thrown over Denny for him, andas she had thrown him over for Ten Euyck! She had played them all fouragainst each other--them, and how many others!--as in her insatiablevanity she would yet throw Ten Euyck over for some new fool! She was allvanity and nothing else; foul in her heart and scheming in her tongue,cruel, cheating, worthless! Oh, Christina, oh, sweet, my sweet--liar,liar, liar!--oh, Christina!--you! How could you?
He sprang up; going to his sideboard, he poured out a strong drink ofthe raw liquor and drained the glass. And as he stood there, with therank fire coursing through his exhaustion, the chilled stiffness of hisbody and the heavy reeking damp of his crumpled clothes gave way to aterrible warm sense of life and pain, and to a hunger, such as he hadnever known, for that pain to be eased. Only one thing on earth couldease it and that was the sight of Christina's face.
He struck a light and looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock. In themirror opposite he could see his leaden face, stiff with soil andweariness and framed in his moist, rumpled hair. He looked at it with asense of its being very ugly and unseemly, and that the dull redbeginning to creep into it from the whiskey was uglier and unseemlierstill. His body weighed upon him horribly, it seemed to creak andprickle in its reluctant joints, and to loom up tangibly before him, asif he saw double. But his spirit was very light and fierce and swift,and throbbed in him, mad to be out of jail. Mechanically he got his hat,and started for Christina's theater.
He did not want to speak to her, to have any sort of dealings with her;but see her he must. It was a need like any other, but stronger than anyother; not to be argued with. Now that he knew her, he must see her.That would cure him. Let him see her once more and he could forget herin peace. Something heavy, like his body, told him that this wouldn'tdo; this was death and damnation, this would destroy him through andthrough! And he replied that he hated her, and would forget her, andnever wished to pass another word with her! But see her this once more,he must. Once more! Through the night and the pouring rain, the lightsof her theater began to gleam. They gleamed on arriving motors; on highhats and snowy shirt-fronts, on opera cloaks and jeweled hair. Despitethe storm, the city had driven forth to do homage to the new star. Thecandles at Christina's altar were burning high and clear; the lobby, allbrightness and warmth, was filled with delicate rustlings, frou-frous oflight feet and chattering voices and soft, merry sounds, idleexcitement. There was a little sparkle on all faces; the glimmerreflected from Christina's eyes. In all men's mouths was the sound ofher name. Not last night had been more crowded nor more brilliant.
And Herrick was very quiet and knew quite well how to behave. Therewould not be a seat left at the box-office, nor would he appeal to themanagement. He pushed to the center of the little crowd around aspeculator; then, clutching his ticket, went in. Just as last night, theushers ran up and down the aisles, and the seats clapped into place;just as last night, he was surrounded by a garden of chiffon and satinand perfume, of gossip and murmur. The audience, a little nervous, waswaiting to be thrilled. The overture was in, and the music quiveredthrough Herrick as the drink had done. He sat there very still, muddyand damp, with a wilted collar, a rough head, and no gloves; there was alittle fixed smile on his lips and he stared at the curtain. He couldn'tsee through it. But soon it must go up. He was nothing but one waitingexpectancy.
They played a second overture and this did not surprise him. Then he sawWheeler, dressed for the first act, come before the curtain. And hissmile broke. Because the delay was so terrible. Then he realized thatWheeler was making a speech.
"You can imagine, ladies and gentlemen, with what regret I am obliged toinform you that there will be no performance this evening. On account ofthe sudden illness of Miss Christina Hope the theater will be closed forto-night." There was something about getting back money at thebox-office.
Herrick continued to sit there, unable to accept what had happened tohim. He wasn't going to see her! It was the snatching back of food froma starving man; he had laid his lips to the spring in the desert andfound it dry! The thing wasn't possible. All his nature had been runningviolently forward, and the shock of its stoppage stupefied him. As forany concern over Christina's illness, it never occurred to him.By-and-by he stood a long while on the corner of the street, not knowingwhere to go. He was not so lost as to seek Christina in person, andafter his recent vigil there his own rooms were insupportable to him.Presently some one jostled him, and he was face to face with Wheeler.
"Great God, man!" Wheeler said. "Where have you been! What are youstanding here for! We've been looking for you all afternoon. Called upyour rooms a dozen times! Deutch and Mrs. Hope and I, we've scoured thecity--been to the Tombs, the District Attorney's, Police Headquarters,
everywhere. The Inghams are raving crazy. Ten Euyck's worse. Well, andhow about me? After all it's my loss! Everything's been done that can bedone. By to-morrow morning the whole city of New York'll be hit by atornado. This little old town's going to get the shock of its life andgo right off its trolley! Say something! Don't stand there like a stuckpig! Speak, can't you? Have you got any idea?"
Herrick heard his own voice saying, "Is she so ill?"
"Ill? Heavens and earth--you didn't swallow that drool, did you? Wherehave you been? Ill? No, the girl's gone--vanished, kidnapped, run away,whatever you like. She's disappeared!"
BOOK THIRD
WILL O' THE WISP