"I will send for Brown. She will listen to him," said Olympia, driven to desperation. "With that spirit, she will never get the rollicking air for her first act."
She went to the door, and found the teacher lingering near, restless and anxious almost as herself.
"Brown—I say, Brown—come in! She is dressed, but so obstinate! If she were about to play Norma, it would be worth everything, but in this part—! Do come in, dear Brown, and get her up to the proper feeling."
Brown entered the room in absolute distress. He would gladly have kept that young creature from the stage; but having no power to aid her in avoiding it, was nervously anxious that she should make a success.
Caroline turned to him at once, and came forward with her hands held out.
"Oh, Mr. Brown, help me! It is not too late. Let them say I am sick. Indeed, indeed, it will be true! She can take the part, and leave me in peace. Ask her, beg of her; say that I will go into her kitchen, be her maid, go out as a teacher—anything on earth, if she will only spare me this once! Ask her, Mr. Brown. Sometimes she will listen to you!"
Brown held both her hands. They were cold as ice, and he felt that she was trembling all over.
"My dear, dear child! I have pleaded with her. I have done my best."
"But again—again! Oh, Mr. Brown, do!"
Brown drew Olympia on one side, and entreated her to give the unhappy girl more time; but he knew well enough that he was asking almost an impossibility—that the woman had no power to grant that which he implored of her. In her arrogant power she had pledged that young creature, body and soul, to the public. How could she draw back, when the crowding rush of the audience might now be heard from the place where they stood.