“Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
Thy wheel and thou art shadows in the cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.”
There was something inexpressibly touching in the way Gladys gave the words, which had such significance addressed to those who listened so intently, that they nearly forgot to pay the tribute which all actors, the greatest as the least, desire, when the curtain dropped, and the song was done.
“A capital idea of Olivia’s, and beautifully carried out. This promises to be pleasant;” and Helwyze sat erect upon the divan, where Canaris came to lounge beside him.
“Which comes next? I don’t remember. If it is Vivien, they will have to skip it, unless they call you in for Merlin,” he said, talking gayly, because a little conscience-stricken by the look Gladys wore, as she sung, with her eyes upon him,—
“Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.”
“They will not want a Merlin; for Gladys could not act Vivien, if she would,” answered Helwyze, tapping restlessly as he waited.
“She said she could do ‘any thing’ to-night; and, upon my life, she looked as if she might even beguile you ‘mighty master,’ of your strongest spell.”
“She will never try.”