Lord Loveland Discovers America

They stood together at the door, he and Leo Cohen, who had persuaded the old man at last, on one excuse or another, to invite him upstairs. Neither Loveland nor Isidora had heard the door open; neither knew how long the eavesdroppers had listened outside.

The girl struggled up from her knees, and as Loveland bounded out of the big chair she caught his arm, nestling against him.

"You villain, stealin' my gal's love, behind my back, and enticin' her to run off with you!" stuttered Alexander, purple with fury.

"I didn't – " began Val, indignantly.

"What, you didn't?" roared the Jew. "You want me to believe my gal asked you to marry her?"

Loveland started as if Alexander had struck him, and flushed to the forehead. Involuntarily he glanced at Isidora, who looked up at him beseechingly. "Spare me!" the almond eyes implored.

"No. I don't want you to believe that," he said. And how hugely he would have laughed had he been told a few weeks ago that he would let himself be misunderstood and shamed for the sake of a girl like Isidora! But now he did not feel it strange that he should make this sacrifice for her. And curiously enough, it seemed to be Lesley Dearmer's voice, Lesley Dearmer's eyes, which – haunting him always – bade him spare this common little Jewess, at any cost.

"You're a d – d sneak," said Alexander. "Ain't you ashamed of yourself?"

"No," answered Loveland.

"Shows what you are, den. You're a tief. You try to steal my daughter, because you tink you get her money."

"Oh, Pa, he loves me! It's me he wants!" wailed Isidora, weeping, yet not daring to defend her lover at the expense of womanly self-respect. What good would it do him, she thought, for her to confess who had proposed a runaway marriage? Her father would be no less angry with Gordon, and he would be a great deal more angry with her – so angry that he would watch her always, perhaps insist on an immediate wedding with Leo Cohen. No, she could not speak; and besides, it would be too humiliating, before Leo. So she only sobbed, and sobbed the louder, when Loveland gently but firmly unlinked her arm from his.

"You're a little fool, Izzie, or you wouldn't believe any such a ting," Alexander scolded her, somewhat softened by her tears. "A feller like dat – a fraud, a liar – "

"If you were a younger man you wouldn't dare to say that," Loveland cut him short. "It's you who are lying."

"What – you call me a liar? You – you cheat, you convict!" sputtered Alexander. "Take dat for your impudence!" And rushing at Loveland like an angry bull, he struck him with both podgy fists.

Isidora screamed, and seized her father's arms, struggling with him, crying out that he was wicked, cruel, ungrateful to the man who had saved his house from burning.

"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to strike back," Loveland reassured her. "He knows that."

"Yes, he knows dat, because he knows youse a coward," Alexander sneered, wheezing asthmatically. "You come over here to cheat Noo York, but you ain't done it, not much. Lucky for you you ain't in prison. Now you get out of my house, quick – see? You just git."

"That's exactly what I'm anxious to do," said Loveland. "Goodbye, Miss Alexander."

"Oh, you ain't leavin' me forever?" cried the girl. "Pa, don't send him away like this. He – he ain't to blame." She hesitated, stammering: then a wild longing to keep her lover at all hazards overcame fear and scruples. "It was me who – "

"Don't," said Loveland. "You can do no good. I shan't forget your kindness. We won't see each other again, but you must forget tonight, and marry some man who can make you happy. Goodbye once more." And pushing regardlessly past Cohen, who hovered near the door, he sent the commercial traveller sprawling as he walked out of the room.

Black Dick, who had been told to guard the broken window of the restaurant, in the master's absence, had heard all or most of the disturbance, from the foot of the stairs, and he ran after Loveland to suggest the wisdom of getting money from Alexander.

"He am a mighty wicked ole man," whispered the Negro. "You done a lot fur him, an' now he kick you out o' de house widout wages."

"I shall never get a penny from the old beast. It's useless to try," said Loveland, heavily, seeing a vision of homeward-bound ships sailing away without him on board. "Goodbye, Dick. I wish I had something to give you to remember me by, but I haven't."

"Lawd, why I'm a rich man, wid money in de bank," protested Dick. "Do you tink because I got a black face, I take suffin' off'n you? No; on de odder hand I lend you what you like, sah, and you pay me back when you like. You've tret me like a gemman."

Loveland thanked him, curiously touched; and as he refused the loan he found himself, somewhat to his own surprise, shaking hands warmly with the coloured cook.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"Wanted: Juvenile Leading Man"

Bill Willing sat reading in the coldest corner of the writing-room, in the Bat Hotel. Somehow, when he had not denuded himself of his last nickel, and could afford to pay for a corner anywhere, it was always the coldest corner, because he blithely sacrificed his chances of the warmer ones to others. But he was not conscious that his corner was cold tonight. There was that in his heart which would have made the edge of an iceberg seem a comfortable resting-place; and he was so deeply absorbed in his paper (which was one devoted to the interests of the stage) that Loveland had to speak to him twice before he heard and looked up.

At any other time he would have started, stared, and wanted to know whether Loveland's battered appearance was due to a fight or a fire; but now in self-absorption unusual for him, he noticed nothing strange. "Just look at this, my boy," he exclaimed, his eye sparkling with excitement, as he pointed to a paragraph which he had marked with red ink from a bottle on the table. The paragraph was an advertisement, in the midst of a column of other advertisements, apparently all of the same nature, and that column was one of five or six on a page entirely devoted to such advertisements. Still, the few lines were evidently of the most vital importance to Bill, and Loveland supposed he had hit on the offer of some wonderful situation, such as he had been looking for all his life.

"Wanted," was the attractive word which headed the paragraph: and that was what Val had expected; but as he read on, he grew puzzled. "Wanted – For Repertoire Work, Juvenile Leading Man. Must be tall; good looker, not over thirty; gentlemanly manners and appearance, slim figure, fashionable wardrobe on and off stage. No boozers or loafers need apply. Write at once enclosing photo, and stating experience, age, weight, and lowest salary, to Jack Jacobus, Managing Star Tour for Lillie de Lisle, the Little Human Flower; Modunk, Ohio."

Loveland read the advertisement over, half aloud, his friend following every word with the keenest interest and delight.

"Great Scott, ain't it the grandest ever?" Bill demanded, with a beaming smile.

"I don't understand," said Val. "Are you going to try for the engagement?"

"I?" echoed Bill. "Lord, no."

"Well, then what are you so excited about?" Loveland wanted to know.

"Why, that she should be a star – a real live star. My little gal, Lillie de Lisle. It's her – it's her! There can't be two Lillie de Lisles. Praise be, I've heard of her again. And she's way up top. She's a star."

"Oh, the girl you used to be in love with at the theatre?" asked Loveland.

"Used to be? Was, am, and will be till I end my days. Gee! Every week, whenever there was a spare dime, I've always bought this paper, to see if I could run acrost her name, and know where she was or what she's doing. Once, I seen a letter advertised for her, but that was all, till now. And here she is, a star, on a tour of her own, doin' business as a Little Human Flower. Great, ain't it?"

"Modunk, Ohio," Loveland read again. "Is that much of a place?"

"Never heard of it," admitted Bill. "But geography ain't been my speciality."

"It doesn't sound like a big town," said Val.

"No, that's so. But it's a lucky town, because the Little Human Flower's bloomin' there."

"Why don't you write, and say you'd like to have this engagement?"

"Me? Oh, Jiminy, am I a good looker, am I under thirty with a fashionable wardrobe on and off? Huh! Mine's mostly off." Bill laughed, and then sighed. "The good Lord didn't make me for no juvenile lead."

"But if she still likes you, she'd stretch a point in your favour," Loveland suggested.

"Jacobus wouldn't. He was the property man I told you about, that got me the sack on account of Lillie."

"By Jove," exclaimed Val, forgetting his own troubles enough to be genuinely interested in the dramatic development of Bill's love episode. "I say, you don't suppose he's married her since?"

"Can't have; at least, not unless his wife's gone off the hooks," said Bill. "I heard of him not a year ago from one of the boys who used to supe with me. Said Jacobus had married an actress named Thora Moon, a big dark woman, in the heavy line."

"The heavy line?" asked Loveland.

"Yes. Does heavies, don't you know? But you never can tell with pros. It's married one year and a bachelor the next."