All the Denver papers contained notices of the performance, but the one quoted was the longest and the most elaborate. Not one of the notices was unfavorable. They were enough to make the heart of any manager glad, and it was not strange that Frank felt well satisfied.
But he was inexpressibly saddened by the sudden and tragic death of William Burns, for he had recognized the genius in the old actor, who had been dragged down from a highroad to prosperity and fame by the hands of the relentless demon that has destroyed so many men of genius, drink.
On account of his bookings, Frank could not remain in Denver to attend the funeral of the veteran tragedian, but he resolved that Burns should be buried with all honors, and he made arrangements for a suitable funeral.
Of course, the papers announced the funeral, and, the story of Burns’ remarkable death having become familiar to all, the church was packed to the doors. The man whose wretched life had promised a wretched death and a nameless grave was buried without pomp, but with such honors as might have been given to one well known and highly esteemed.
Above his grave a modest marble was placed, and chiseled on it was a single line from the “Immortal Bard,” whom he loved and understood and interpreted with the faithfulness and fire of genius:
“After life’s fitful fever, he sleeps well.”
And every expense Frank Merriwell provided for. Nothing was neglected; everything was done that good taste and a good heart demanded.
CHAPTER XVI.—THE VEILED WOMAN.
As may be understood, the members of Frank’s company were individually and collectively delighted with the apparent success of the play and their efforts. Perhaps Agnes Kirk was the only one who complained. She was not at all pleased by the notices she obtained.