Bardell bade her good-bye with the seriousness of one going on a long journey. When he was gone a new sense of loneliness came over her. It was because he already had started up the mountain, leaving her still in the vale.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE JOYS.
“Why went that young life out
On honor’s perilous road?
The carping tongue and the jealous mind
Stay here to wound and goad.
“A picture once I saw—
Three crosses against the sky!
And the heaviest cross was the highest one;
Perhaps that answers why.”
Mrs. Doring was surprised and delighted at receiving a visit from the Joys one evening. Having parted with everything that goes by the name of property, they had come to New York to seek fortune on the dramatic stage, both having talent and taste for mimic art. As joyful as ever, they met their changed fortunes with their old-time merry laugh. Their two children were in an excellent school, and the business now in hand was seeking a chance to earn the money necessary to keep the machinery of life moving for them all.
“Our time for looking about is somewhat limited,” said Burton, with cheery humor, “as the cash box is not overflowing.”
“We shall find something,” said Lilla, with calm assurance.
“Must,” said Mrs. Doring. “Must is a magnet. What we must have, we always get.”
The difficult search began at once in dead earnest. Thousands had walked the rough road before them, some of whom had found foothold, but others by scores and hundreds had gone down in the city’s remorseless maelstrom. It was like being wrecked in mid-ocean. Some managed to seize a plank and keep afloat. Some spent their strength and sank early. Others buffeted the waves long and bravely, only to go down at last, a pitiful, a woful, a heart-breaking spectacle.
The animal known as the dramatic agent was an unknown quantity to the Joys, hence they were not prepared for his peculiar antics. Snubs, insults and sneers rained down upon them. Still they kept on and still they wore cheerful faces, still the sunshine of their hearts was unclouded—the heavenly sunshine that was rated as mere empty-headedness by duller, coarser souls.
Days and weeks rolled on, for “time carries no anchor,” until the money that constituted their plank on the city’s rough ocean was gone.