"Ah," he said, kindly, "you are not going to do any more walking ladies—divine or human. I have already in my possession a play with a great part for you. Boucicault wrote it, and——"
He stopped suddenly, all the brightness went out of his face. He played nervously with his watch-guard. He started out with: "Miss Morris, I wish—" stopped, frowned; then impatiently took up the picture-plate, pointed out which dress he wanted me to wear, and curtly dismissed me.
I understood him perfectly. In a genial moment he had unintentionally given me some information which he now regretted, though he would not stoop to ask my silence; and he felt sure that I would at once boast of the great part that was to be mine; and I went home, one broad smile of malicious satisfaction, for in spite of my seemingly-careless speech, I had, by long and careful training, acquired the fine art of holding my tongue about other people's affairs, even though I ascended to the roof to babble to the city of my own; and Mr. Daly would be again disappointed, as he had been the day I accepted, without protest, the walking-lady part.
That night he barely nodded in silent recognition of my "Good-evening, sir." Next morning he kept his eyes averted from me when he gave me any stage directions; but whenever or wherever we women formed a little group to chat, there Mr. Daly, like a jack-in-the-box, suddenly sprang into evidence. It was very funny—he was simply waiting for me to repeat my interesting information.
Two, three days passed, then a certain kindness began to show in his manner toward me. Quite suddenly, and of course unasked, he gave me a dressing-room to myself. I was delighted! Hesitatingly, I tapped at the door of his office. I had never stood there before, save by order. I said: "I will not come in, Mr. Daly, I only wished to thank you for the room you have given me. It will be a great comfort, for we are terribly crowded in the other one."
But he rose, took my hand, and said: "You deserve anything and everything this theatre can provide for you." Drawing me to a chair, he placed me in it, while still speaking: "And I am proud of you. You are a girl in ten thousand! For you can respect a confidence."
I was very much embarrassed by such unexpected warmth, and laughing nervously I said: "Even when the confidence was unintentional and deeply regretted?"
"Ah!" he answered, "you saw that, did you? Well, I've been listening and waiting to hear about the 'new play' ever since, but not a word have you dropped, and I did not ask for silence either. You are a woman worth talking to, and I shall never be afraid to tell you things I am going to do, and——"
And straightway he told me all about the new play—its good points, its bad ones, and where he feared for it; and to show you how true was his judgment, the play, which later on gave me a great personal success, was itself a failure from the very causes he then indicated.
And so it came about that Mr. Daly, putting aside his dislike for me—coming to enjoy my sense of the ridiculous, instead of resenting it—confided many, many plans and dreams, likes and dislikes, hates and loves to me. We quarreled spitefully over politics, fought furiously over religion, wickedly bowed down and worshipped before odds and ends of lovely carvings or precious cloisonné, to whose beauty I first introduced him, and hung in mutual rapture over rare old engravings.