"It's going to be a failure," she said.
"Oh, don't say that!" he fairly groaned.
"Don't be discouraged!" said Mr. Frohman, noting their despairing looks. "Dress rehearsals are usually the limit."
"But it can't go like this, and succeed," Bambi wailed.
"Don't you worry. It won't go like this."
The night wore on, miserably, for the authors. Everything had to be done over--lines were forgotten--everybody was in a nervous stew.
"The awful part of it is that we've done all we can do," moaned Bambi. "If they ruin it, we can't prevent them."
"We'll make them rehearse all day to-morrow," said Jarvis, fiercely. "They were better than this two weeks ago."
The end of the agony finally came. The stage manager assembled the weary company and gave them a few select and sarcastic remarks as to their single and collective failure. Mr. Frohman added a few words, and ordered them all to dismiss the play from their minds until the morrow night. Bambi tried to say a word of encouragement and thanks to them, but in the midst of it she broke down and wept.
"Take her home and keep her in bed to-morrow, Jocelyn," Mr. Frohman said.
Jarvis hurried her into a cab, and she sobbed softly all the way home. He made no effort to touch her or comfort her; he was in torment himself. At the club he ordered eggnog and sandwiches sent to her room, whither he followed her, helpless to cope with her tears.
She threw her things off and bathed her eyes, while he set out the table for the food. When the boy appeared with it, Jarvis led her to her chair and served her. She smiled mistily at him.
"It's nerves and excitement and overwork," she explained. He nodded.
"If it failed now, it would be too awful," he said.
"Don't say that word; don't even think it!" she cried.
"You mustn't care so much," he begged her.
"Don't you care?"
"Of course, more than you know. But I am prepared for failure, if it comes."
"I can't be prepared for it. It cannot happen!" she sobbed.
He stood looking down at her helplessly.
"What can I do for you? What is it you want?" he demanded gently.
"I want to be rocked," she sobbed.
"To be----"
She pushed him into a big chair, and climbed into his arms.
"Rocked," she finished.
He held her a minute closely, then he rose and set her down.
"I can't do it," he began. "I have something to tell you that must be said----"
"Not to-night, Jarvis, I'm too tired."
"Yes, to-night, before another hour passes. Sit down there, please."
She obeyed, curiously.
"Do you remember Christmas Eve, when I came home?"
"Yes."
"Did you notice anything different about me?"
"How, different?"
"Did it occur to you that I cared about you, for the first time?"
"I--I--suspicioned it a little."
"Then you deliberately ignored it because you did not want my love?"
"I--I--didn't mean to ignore it."
"But you did."
"I wasn't sure; you never spoke of it, never said you cared. After that first night I thought I must have been mistaken."
"But you were glad to be mistaken?"
"No. I was sorry," she said, softly.
"What?" sharply.
"I wanted your love, Jarvis."
"You can't mean that."
"But I do!"
"But, Strong--you love Strong----"
She rose quickly, her face flushed.
"I love Richard Strong as my friend, and in no other way."
"Certainly he loves you."
"He has never told me so."
"You let me believe you cared for him; you tortured me with your show of preference for him."
"You imagined that, Jarvis. It is not true!"
"It is true!" he cried, passionately. "I came to you, eager for your love, wanting you as I had never wanted anything. You flaunted this man in my face, you shut me out, you drove me back on myself----"
"Well?"
"What did you expect me to do? Endure forever in silence?"
"What did you do? Or what do you mean to do?"
"I have come to care for a woman who understands me----"
"A woman, Jarvis?"
"The woman who wrote 'Francesca.' I cared first because she had put into her heroine so many things that were like you."
"Well?" she said again.
"She has come to care for me. I wanted to tell you so long ago, when we first knew, but she begged me not to until after the play was tried out. But I can't stand it another minute. There must be truth between us, Bambi. I want you to read her letters. I want you to try to understand how this has crept into my heart."
"You wish to be free--to go to her?"
"There is no happiness for us, is there?"
"I'm too tired to think it out now, Jarvis. You must go away and let me get myself together."
She looked like a pitiful little wraith, and his heart ached for her.
"I'm sorry I had to add to your hard day, but I had to say this to-night."
"It's all right. I must ask you not to speak to me of it again until after to-morrow night. I need all my strength for that ordeal. After that, we must turn our attention to this new problem, and work it out together, somehow."
"Thank you. I'm sorry I've been such a disappointment to you, my dear," he added.
"Good-night. Take the letters--I could not bear to read them."
With an agonized look he took them and left her.
"Dear lord, I'm through with plots! I'm sick unto death of the secret," she sighed, as she climbed into bed.
XXVIII
Bambi kept to her room next day until it was time to meet the train on which Ardelia and the Professor were to arrive. It was due at four o'clock. She went to Jarvis's door, but he was not in his room. She had heard nothing of him since his confession of the night before.
Her telephone bell startled her, and she took up the receiver to hear Jarvis's voice.
"Bambi?"
"Yes."
"How are you?"
"All right."
"Don't you want me to meet the Professor and Ardelia? There's no need of your going up to Grand Central."
"I'd rather go thank you, Jarvis. Where are you?"
"At the theatre."
"Anything the matter?"
"Oh, no. I came to talk to the stage manager. He says everything will be all right to-night. Are you resting?"
"Yes. I've had a quiet day, sitting on my nervous system. Where have you been?"
"Walking the streets."
"Come home and take some rest. I'll meet the train. Thank you just as much for thinking of it."
"I'll be at the information booth at five minutes to four."
"All right."
She hung up the phone with a dazed face. The idea of Jarvis taking care of her, inquiring after her health, and trying to spare her!
"Every blessed thing is topsy-turvy," she exclaimed aloud.
At four o'clock she walked up to the booth, and there he stood, anxiously scanning the faces that passed.
"Hello!" she said cheerfully.
He looked grateful and smiled.
"You look as if you had had a spell of sickness, you're so white," he said.
"I'm all right, but you look like a nervous pros. case. Aren't we pitiful objects for eminently successful playwrights?"
"I suppose one gets used to this strain in time," he said, taking her arm to help her through the crowd.
No sooner had the train come to a stop than they saw Ardelia's huge frame descend from the car, holding a dress suitcase in each hand. After her came the Professor, looking very small and shrunken. Ardelia saw them afar, and waved the heavy suitcase in the air like a banner as she hurried toward them.
"Howdy, Miss Bambi? Howdy, Mistah Jarvis? Heah we is."
"Bless your old hearts!" said Bambi, hugging them both.
"How are you, children?" the Professor inquired.
"We're fine! Did you have a comfortable time on the trip? Why did you sit in the day coach, father?"
"De Perfessor, he won't set in de' chaih cah, cause'n dey won't let me in dere, an' he's 'fraid he fergit to git off less'n he was 'longside ob me."
"But the train stops here--it doesn't go any farther. My! Ardelia, you do look stylish!"
"Yas'm. Wait until yo' see my noo black silk. I'se got me a tight skirt, an' a Dutch neck--Lawzee, honey, but dis ole niggah's gittin' mighty frisky."
She and Jarvis had an argument about the bags. She insisted upon carrying them herself, and indignantly refused the help of the coloured porter.
"Go way f'um heah, boy. Yo' reckon I gwine trust yo' all wid ma' noo silk dress an de Perfessor's dress suit? No, sah!"
She kept them laughing all the way to the club with her tales of their difficulties and excitements in getting off. Her exclamations on everything she saw were convulsing. When they arrived at the club, and she discovered that she was to have the little room next to Bambi's, her satisfaction was complete.
Bambi ordered the entire family to repose on its respective backs for an hour before they dressed for dinner. So they parted to obey orders. For that hour Bambi held herself firmly upon her bed, completing her plans. They had agreed, she and Jarvis, that if there should be a call for the author, they would take it together, and Jarvis would speak. She was not sure just how she was to make the revelation to him of her dual personality. She decided to leave it to chance.
Never in her life had she been so excited. The double responsibility as author and playwright shrank to second place in comparison with the fact that this night she was to tell Jarvis of her love for him--hear him speak his love for her.
Before the hour of enforced quiet was over she could hear Ardelia tiptoeing about her room. Presently her head was cautiously inserted through the door. When she saw a hand waved at her, she bounced in.