CHAPTER XIX--DAN AWAKES
The next night Dan, magnetically drawn down the Strand to the Gaiety,arrived just before the close of the last act, slipped in, and sat farback watching Letty Lane close her part. After hearing her sing as shehad the afternoon before in the worldly group, it was curious to see herbefore the public in her flashing dress and to realize how much she wasa thing of the people. To-night she was a completely personal element toDan. He could never think of her again as he had hitherto. The sharpdrive through the town that afternoon in her motor had made a change inhis feelings. He had been hurt for her, with anger at the Duchess ofBreakwater's rudeness, and from the first he had always known that therewas in him a hot championship for the actress. To-night, whenever theman who sang with her, put his arms around her, danced with her, heldher, it was an offense to Dan Blair; it had angered him before, butto-night it did more. One by one everything faded out of his foregroundbut the brilliant little figure with her golden hair, her lovely face,her beautiful graceful body, and in her last gesture on the stage beforethe curtain went down, she seemed to Blair to call him and distinctly tomake an appeal to him:
"You might rest your weary feet If you came to Mandalay."
Well, there was nothing weary about the young, live, vigorous American,as, standing there in his dark edge of the theater, his hands in hispockets, his bright face fixed toward the stage, he watched the slowfalling of the curtain on the musical drama. Dan realized how full ofvigor he was; he felt strong and capable, indeed a feeling of poweroften came to him delightfully, but it had never been needful for him toexert his forces, he had never had need to show his mettle. Now he feltat those words:
"You might rest your weary feet"
how, with all his heart, he longed that the dancer should rest thoselovely tired little feet of hers, far away from any call of the public,far away on some lovely shore which the hymn tune called the coralstrand. As he gazed at her mobile, sensitive face, whose eyes had seenthe world, and whose lips--Dan's thoughts changed here with a great pang,and the close of all his meditations was: "Gosh, she ought to rest!"
The boy walked briskly back of the scenes toward the little door, behindwhich, as he tapped, he hoped with all his heart to hear her voice bidhim come in. But there were other voices in the room. He rattled thedoor-knob and Letty Lane herself called to him without opening the door:
"Will you go, please, Mr. Blair? I can't see any one to-night."
He had nothing to do but to go--to grind his heel as he turned--to sweardeeply against Poniotowsky. His late ecstasy was turned to gall. Thetheater seemed horrible to him: the chattering of the chorus girls,their giggles, their laughter as he passed the little groups, all seemedweird and infernal, and everything became an object of irritation.
As he went blindly out of the theater he struck his arm against a pieceof stage fittings and the blow was sharp and stinging, but he was gladof the hurt.
Without, in the street, Dan took his place with the other men andwaited, a bitter taste in his mouth and anger in his breast, waiteduntil Letty Lane fluttered down, followed by Poniotowsky, and the twodrove away.
The young man could have gone after, running behind the motor, but therewas a taxicab at hand; he jumped in it, ordering the man to follow thecar to the Savoy. There the boy had the pleasure of seeing Miss Laneenter the hotel, Poniotowsky with her--had the anguish of seeing themboth go up in the lift to her apartments.
When Dan came to himself he heard the chimes of St. Martin's ring outeleven. He then remembered for the first time that he had promised todine alone at home with the Duchess of Breakwater.
"Gosh, Lily will be wild!"
In spite of the lateness of the hour he hurried to Park Lane. Thefamiliar face of the manservant who let him in blurred before the youngman's eyes. Her grace was out at the theater? Blair would wait then, andhe went into the small drawing-room, quiet, empty, reposeful, with afire across the andirons, for the evening was damp and cool. Still dazedby his jealous, passionate emotions, he glanced about the room, chose along leather sofa, and stretching out his length, fell asleep. There inthe shadow he slept profoundly, waking suddenly to find that he was notalone. Across the room the Duchess of Breakwater stood by the table; shewas in evening dress, her cloak and gloves on the chair at her side. Shelaughed softly and the man to whom she laughed, on whom she smiled, wasLord Galorey.
Blair raised himself up on the sofa without making any noise, and he sawGalorey take the woman in his arms. The sight didn't make the fianceeangry. He realized instantly that he _wanted to believe that it wastrue_, and as there was nothing theatrical in the young Westerner, hesprang up, slang so much a part of his nature that the first words thatcame to his lips was a phrase in vogue.
"Look who's here!" he cried, and came blithely forward, his head clear,his lips smiling.
The duchess gave a little scream and Dan lounged up to the two peopleand held his hand frankly out to the lady.
"That's all right, Lily! Go right on, Gordon, please. Only I had to letyou know when I waked up! Only fair. I guess I must have been asleepquite a while."
The Duchess of Breakwater shrugged. "I don't know what you dreamed," shesaid acidly, "if you were asleep."
"Well, it was a very pretty dream," the boy returned, "and showed what astupid ass I've been to think I couldn't have dreamed it when I wasawake."
"I think you are crazy," the duchess exclaimed.
But Blair repeated: "That's all right. I mean to say as far as I amconcerned--"
And Galorey, in order to stand by his lady, murmured:
"My dear chap, you _have_ been dreaming."
But Blair met the Englishman's gray eyes with his blue ones. "I did havea bottle of champagne, Gordon, that's a fact, but it couldn't make mesee what I did see."
"Dan," the Duchess of Breakwater broke in, "let Gordon take you home,like a dear. You're really ragging on in a ridiculous way."
Blair looked at her steadily, and as he did so he repeated:
"That's all right, Lily. Gordon cares a lot, and the truth of the matteris that I _do not_."
She grew very pale.
"I would have stuck to my word, of course," he went on, "but we'd havebeen infernally unhappy and ended up in the divorce courts. Now, thislittle scene here of yours lets me out, and I don't lay it up againsteither of you."
"Gordon!" she appealed to her lover, "why, in Heaven's name, don't youspeak!"
The Englishman realized that while he was glad at heart, he regrettedthat he had been the means of her losing the chance of her life.
"What do you want me to say, Lily?" he exclaimed with a desperategesture. "I can't tell him I don't love you. I have loved you, God helpme, for ten years."
She could have killed him for it.
"I can tell you, Dan, if you want me to," Galorey went on, "that I don'tbelieve she cares a penny for any one on the face of the earth, for youor me."
Old Dan Blair's son showed his business training. His one idea was to"get out," and as he didn't care who the Duchess of Breakwater loved ordidn't love, he wanted to break away as fast as he could. He sat down atthe table under the light of the lamp and drew out his wallet with itscompact, thick little check book, the millionaire's pass to most of thethings that he wants.
"You've taught me a lot," he said to the Duchess of Breakwater, "and myfather sent me over here for that. I have been awfully fond of you, too.I thought I was fonder than I am, I guess. At any rate I want to standby one of my promises. That old place of yours--Stainer Court--now that'sgot to be fixed up."
He made a few computations on paper, lifted the pad to her with thefigures on it, round, generous and full.
"At home," he said, "in Blairtown, we have what we call 'engagement'parties, when each fellow brings a present to the girl, but this is whatwe might call a 'broken engagement party.' Now, I can't," the boy wenton, "give this money to you very well; it won't look right. We will haveto fix that up some way or other. You will have to say you got
anunexpected inheritance from some uncle in Australia." He smiled atGalorey: "We will fix it up together."
His candor, his simplicity, were so charming, he stood before the two soyoung, so clear, so clean, that a sudden tenderness for him, and a senseof what she had lost, what she never had had, made her exclaim:
"Dan, I really don't care a pin for the money--I don't"--but the hand sheheld out was seized by the other man and held fast. Galorey said:
"Very well, let it go at that. You don't care for the money, but youwill take it just the same. Now, don't, for God's sake, tell him thatyou care for him."
He made her meet his eyes this time: stronger than she, Galorey forcedher to be sincere. She set Dan free and he turned and left them standingthere facing each other. He softly crossed the room, and looking back,he saw them, tall, distinguished, both of them under thelamplight--enemies, and yet the closest friends bound by the strongesttie in the world.
As Dan went out through the curtains of the room and they fell behindhim, the Duchess of Breakwater sank down in the chair by the side of thetable; she buried her face. Gordon Galorey bent over her and again tookher in his arms, and she suffered it.
The Girl From His Town Page 19
