“I didn’t know,” said Eldon, “and I shouldn’t have dared to argue with Reben. I was afraid he might change his mind. But I could resign and come East and get a job with another manager.”
Mrs. Vining poured on more vinegar: “You can’t resign. That two weeks’ notice works only one way. And if you break with Reben you’ll have a fine chance getting in with any other manager! Besides, why let your—well, call it ‘love’ if you want to—why let it make fools of you both? Mr. Eldon has had a great compliment from the best manager in the country, and a raise of salary, and a promise of his interest. Are you thinking of slapping him in the face and kicking your own feet out from under yourself just because this foolish little girl is going along about her business?
“And another thing, Mr. Floyd Eldon, if you love this girl as much as you say you’re taking a pretty way to prove it. Do you want to ruin her career just as it’s beginning, drag this rising star back to the drudgery of being the wife of a fifty-dollar-a-week actor? Oh, you’ll do better. You’re the type that matinée girls make a pet of. You’ll have draught, too, as soon as you learn a little more about your business. But it wouldn’t help you any just now to be known as an old married man. You mind your business and let her mind hers.
“You think you’re Romeo and Juliet in modern costume, I suppose. Well, look what a mess they made of it. You are two fine young things and I love you both, but you mustn’t try to prove your devotion to each other by committing suicide together.”
Eldon’s thoughts were dark and bitter. His own career meant nothing to him at the moment. His love of Sheila was all-important to him, and her career was, above all, important. He said: “I certainly won’t do anything to hurt Sheila’s career. That’s my religion—her career.”
He poured into her eyes all the idolatry a man can feel for a woman. He had a curious feeling that he read in her eyes a faint fleck of disappointment. His sacrifice was perfect and complete, but he felt an odious little suspicion that it was not absolutely welcome.
Perhaps he guessed right. Sheila was hastening to that point in womanhood where the chief demand of her soul is not that her lover should exalt her on a pedestal and worship her, but should tear her thence and love her. She did not suspect this yet herself. All she knew was that she was dissatisfied with her triumph. She bade Eldon a ghostly farewell at the hotel elevator and went up to her room, while he turned away to his dingy boarding-house. He had not yet bettered his lodgings; he was trying to save his pennies against the future need of a married man.
When Sheila had made ready for bed she put out the lights and leaned across the sill and stared across the dark boundless prairie of the starlit Lake. It had an oceanic vastitude and loneliness. It was as blank as her own future.
CHAPTER XVI
The last days of Sheila’s presence with the company were full of annoyances. There was little opportunity for communion with Floyd. Mrs. Vining was invincibly tenacious. All day long, too, Floyd was rehearsing his new rôle. This proved intensely difficult to him. With a heart full of devotion to Sheila, it was worse than awkward to be making love to the parvenue who took her place, mimicked her intonations, made the same steps and gestures, said the same words, and yet was so radically different.