Vain Fortune

e Hubert expected to hear that-on account of severe indisposition-Mr. Montague Ford has been obliged to indefinitely postpone his contemplated revival of Mr. Hubert Price's play Divorce. But, be

is old rooms in Fitzroy Street. All was as it had been. He was working at his play every evening, waiting for Rose's footsteps on the s

had not only talent, but genius. Besides, they were friends, neighbours; he would like to give her a chance of distinguishing herself-the chance which she was seeking. All the time he could not but realise that, however he might accentuate and characterise the part of the sentimental girl, Rose would not be able to do much with it. To bring out her sp

at they should have a roast chicken, and Annie was sent to fetch a bottle of champagne from the groce

going to a funeral, and not t

ece succeed? What shall I do if it fails?' He could give heed to nothing but himself, all the world seemed blotted out, and he suffered the pain of excessive self-concentration. Rose, on the other hand, had lost sight of herself, and existed almost unconsciously in the soul of another being. She was sometim

ts to appear interested in each other. Walking to the theatre, they once took the wrong turning and had to ask the way. At the stage door they smiled painfully, nodded, glad t

t trouble me now. I am

turne

r. 'You know when the husband m

from the author justification for some intonations and gestures which seemed to him to form part

ate, very unlucky-very,

ear with your insults; I can

Harding stood talk

t your idea

w, my dear fellow. I cannot fix my attention. I can see, how

is satisfaction he said, 'I think

down the stalls. Harding stood in the third row talking to a young man. He said, 'You mean the woman with the black hair piled into a point, and fastened with a steel circlet. A face of sheep-like sensuality. Red lips and a round receding chin. A large bosom, and two thin arms showing beneath the opera cloak, which she has n

s become

to see her ugly old face again. And that delicate little

anging over her whi

because her one passion is to be made love to in public. If her admirer did not hang over

rupted by a new-comer, who asked if he ha

tances amid white rows of female backs, necks, and half-seen profiles

of it? Do you think it

sion in the part; but I don

use the public

e is only an intentionist. He ca

ing to writ

m

t will y

. Let's take the case of Hubert Price .

he had flirted with Captain Grey; he had written her some compromising letters, and she had once been to his rooms alone. So the Court had pronounced a decree nisi. But Mrs. Holmes had not been unfaithful to

pearance of the house; and all the while the actors were speaking. Hubert trembled with fear and rage. Would these people never give their attention to the stage? If they had been sitting by him, he could have struck them. Then a line turned into nonsense by the actress who played Mrs. Hol

se she believes that once married always married. There is only one thing he can do to repair the wrong he has done-he will commit suicide, and so enable her to marry the man she loves. He tells her that he has bought the pistol to do it with, and the words, 'Not here! not here!' escape from her; and he answers, 'No, not here, but in

and admits that his reformation is impossible, and that, although he has no courage to commit suicide and set his wife free, he will return to his evil courses; they will sooner or later make an end of him. The slowness and deadly gravity with which Ford took this scene rendered it intolerable; and, notwithstanding the beau

at moment particularly disagreeable. On catching sight of Hubert, Brown ran to him, shook him by the hand, and murmured some discreet congratulations. He preferred the piece, however, as it had been originally written, and suggested to Ford the advisability of returning to the first text. Then Ford

aid that he had always counted on a certain amount of opposition; but that he believed that the general public, being more free of prejudice and less sophisticated, would be impressed by the simple humanity of the play. The co

. I hope my notices will be

ll be all right,' he

ng to succeed. There was a call after each of the last three acts..

, the su

. His calm face, usually a perfect picture of repose and self-possession, betrayed his emotion by a certain bla

went very well indeed.... I know I did nothing with t

ed.' He looked at her imploringly, thirsting for a woman's sympathy. But the little girl was thinking of certa

ery proper, my young woman; but it's not it; no, not at all-not within a hundred miles of it." I don't think she ever r

't you a

; I can think of nothing now.' He hid his face in his hands, and sobbed twice-t

'I am very sorry; I wish I could help you. I know how it tears

f. He dared not go to bed; he sat looking into space. The roar of London hushed till it was no more than a faint murmur, the hissing of the gas grew louder, and still Hubert sat thinking, the same thoughts battling in his brain. He looked into the future, but could see nothing but suicide. His uncle? He had applied to him before for he