Miser Farebrother: A Novel (vol. 2 of 3)Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
Miser Farebrother: A Novel (vol. 2 of 3)
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Fiction
"Why have you insisted that I should come before you? In order that you
may hoot me? Do you think I do not feel with sufficient keenness that my
effort to-night has been a failure? It is an effort, at least, which has
occupied me for many hard-working months; and that the result should be
what it is--is it not punishment enough? Are you not satisfied with
killing a man? Must you also torture him? There is a side to this matter
which may not recommend itself to you, because it is human. An author is
not entirely an abstract entity. He is also a man. In my case he is a
husband and a father. I am not appealing to you for mercy--I would scorn
to do it; I am simply stating a fact. We are not very rich at home, and
cannot afford more than two rooms to live in. When I left my wife this
evening to come here she was nursing a delicate child--our only
child--for whom the doctor had ordered a certain course which we were
not exactly able to carry out, because of the slender purse. I hoped to
be able to take home to her news which would cheer her heart, and
perhaps save the life of our little one. How anxiously is she awaiting
me, counting the moments, and fondly hoping that my brows are being
crowned with success! You are angry, indignant with me, but your loss is
a trifle compared with mine. I take with me this night from the theatre
a heavier load than yours. I can say no more; I retire from your
presence with no light heart, and as I go, continue to hoot me! It will
be manly!"
He bowed with an ashen face, and was slowly leaving the stage amidst a
dead silence, when he paused and spoke again:
"There have been instances when first-night verdicts have been reversed,
and when what looked like a failure has been worked into a success. On
my knees to-night I shall pray to God that this may be the case with my
play! Perhaps He will hear me!"
"My boy!" cried the manager, slapping Linton on the back when he got
behind the curtain. "My boy! a wonderful speech! Wonderful! I never
heard anything like it. Did you learn it beforehand? It will do us a
power of good. Nothing could be more fortunate. It may save the piece."
"Don't speak to me! Don't speak to me!" said Linton, and he crept from
the theatre, sobbing as though his heart were breaking.
CHAPTER VII.
DIPLOMATIC FANNY.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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