Out of the Storm

by Grace Livingston Hill

  There was a peculiar silence in the room when the delayed second act began. Perhaps "Charmie" had whispered it around how he meant to have his revenge. Perhaps the other girls were jealously watching to see how the favorite would be treated by this haughty green hand. There was antagonism among them all. She felt herself against the whole company. Only Farley seemed to be friendly toward her, and him she watched as she went through her part, satisfied if he looked pleased.

  Gail was very lovely when she entered the door of the darkened room with the candlelight on her face and one hand resting for an instant on the doorknob--lovelier still as she stood before the mirror at the dressing table and held her hand around the candle flame for a second so that the light was focused in the glass. Her hands were beautiful as they moved rhythmically down the length of her wonderful hair, leaving shining smoothness in the wake of the silver-backed brush they had given her. She was deliberate in all her movements, even pausing for a moment and listening as if she thought she heard someone in the closet, holding the heavy waves of her hair back from her face and letting the big sleeve of the robe slip back and show the curve of her white elbow. The watching, jealous girls were surprised that she knew how to be so graceful. Even they could see her charm and resented it. They resented the approval on the faces of Bob and Farley. The new girl was making a "hit."

  Gracefully she threw herself upon the couch at last, her long hair falling back over the head of the couch and to the floor in shining waves lit by the flicker of the candle. Anything more natural and lovely than her position as she lay asleep could not well be imagined.

  Up to this point, all was going well. Everything had been planned, and now the villain was stealing forth from his hiding place so silently, so cautiously, that he stood almost over her, and yet she had not heard the signal nor suspected.

  Suddenly some inner consciousness gave her warning, some sense of the nearness of a hateful thing. Was it a hint of liquor and stale tobacco on his hot breath as he stooped nearer? She only knew that the time had come to act. She forgot that she was to wait for a signal, she forgot that she was acting or that there was to have been a signal at all. A higher signal had been given than even Farley could control, and she sprang to defense.

  No practiced acting could have been more perfect than the way she lifted up her head and gazed in horror at the wild, loathsomely handsome face as it bent over her, the whole look repulsive in the extreme.

  One instant only she gazed as if under some terrible spell. Then all the righteous wrath of her Puritan ancestors rose in its might and stood forth in her face. The lights in her eyes were like the lightning darts of an avenging angel, the fine flame of her face was fanned from her pure soul. With all the strength that was in her, she struck out at the man, and from that instant on the scene became real. There was no more acting. The director held his breath and stepped back. Bob puffed his heavy flesh into red swaths about his chin and breathed as if he had an apoplectic fit but said nothing, and nobody noticed him. Only the cameraman who was used to all sorts of things and had had no signal to stop went grinding on, recording the whole thing.

  The unexpectedness of the onslaught startled the villain off his guard, and the blinding blows that her strong young arm gave were so vigorous and effective that he staggered backward this way and that, dodging, guarding, acting like a very coward before the vengeance of her righteous wrath. She dealt a blow between his eyes that sent a sharp pain darting through his brain and followed it with another that almost sent him to the floor. He nearly tumbled over a chair in his haste to get away.

  Little by little in the fury of her young might she drove him to the wall, out the door, and closed and locked it as was planned, but not for any planning did she do it. It was all very real to her. She had seen the slimy soul of the man as it looked forth at her through the flickering candlelight, and her pure soul had gone to war with it and vanquished it from sight. Now as she turned back to the room she stood with trembling body all unnerved, her face grown white and haggard in the flare of the candle blaze, and lifting up her arms and her white face to heaven in one pleading cry, "O God! Help me!" she dropped in a little shuddering heap beside the couch, her long hair falling about her, and sobbed out her heart's trouble.

  It was a wonderful picture with the flare of light over all. There never had been such a wonderful picture caught before by that company. They hardly dared believe it was theirs, or that the prize of this star actor had really come to them.

  Silently, Farley lifted up his hand as a signal to shut off the machine. Quietly, he motioned the rest of the company to go away and leave them, and then he and Bob stood and faced each other.

  "What did I tell you?" asked the eyes of Farley, though he spoke no word.

  "Well, you've got one on me at last!" growled Bob. "But guess you've done your last film with her. Look at her. That wasn't acting, that was real. She'll never forgive that!"

  When Gail went down to the office a few minutes later, there was nobody there but Farley, and he turned around pleasantly. "I hope you didn't misunderstand our Mr. Charmer, miss," he said apologetically. "He's been used to doing acts in a diff'runt class of films than ours, and he gets a little fresh now and then. He didn't mean nothing personal of course, and he wants training. But I guess he'll understand all right after this, and I got you to thank fer givin' him one good lesson. He wanted me to tell you he was sorry he'd made you think he done things wrong. He admires your nerve, and he respects you, and he wants a chance to apologize. I must say you done him up rare."

  Gail's white face set visibly. She had not recovered from the shock of what had passed. She felt utterly disgraced, and she was certain he was lying about Charmer. The man saw it and hastened on with his remarks.

  "I'm goin' to pay you five dollars extra for today's work, miss. You done better than I had any idea you could without havin' no experience before."

  The man held out the money, smiling.

  "You needn't feel shy 'bout takin' it," he said jovially. "You earned it all right. You sure did good, solid work. Some o' them other girls are so flighty we have to do a scene all over again every little while; but you went straight through with things and never hindered us a bit ner fussed like they do, ner complained neither. I do like folks not to complain. It makes things go a lot easier, don't you think so? Now, about tomorrow--"

  Gail held up her hand.

  "Mr. Farley, I can't come tomorrow. I could never go through a scene like that again, not if I starved."

  "Oh, now looka here, Miss--what d'you say your name was? Desmond? Oh, yes, now I remember. Now looka here, Miss Desmond, you mustn't talk like that. Why, you don't know how you done up Archie. Why, he's just plain laid out, he was, when he came down here. He says, 'Mist' Fahley,' he says, 'I've just cooked my cake, I have. That girl'll always think I'm a real villain, she will, an' there ain't nothin' can turn her from it,' he says. 'I can't hold up my head no more as an actor. I'm done for.' " The man Farley was good at making up a story as he went along. " 'To have a girl like that lay me out that way through a misunderstanding is too much,' he says. 'An' such a girl!' he says. 'You can see she's the real thing!' he says. 'Been used to havin' real high-up attention,' he says. 'Been used to gentlemen!' he says. 'An' I can't act no more till I know she's forgiven me, an' I want you should tell her what I said.'

  "And I says, 'Well, Archie, I think you was pretty fresh myself. From where I stood I could see you was, and I been tellin' you right along that you couldn't carry a line like that in our comp'ny, b'cause we always deal in refined films. We ain't never manufactured anything else but refined films. You can ask the National Censorship Committee if that ain't true. They've never took up no case against us, not one! We got the reputation, an' we gotta live up to it. We can't afford to get no sucha name by havin' unrefined acts. We gotta be on the safe side, Archie,' I says. 'An' ef you can't tone yourself down to suit the place, why then the place's vacant for you, Archie, that's all. You gotcher lesso
n. Now learn it.'

  "An' Archie, he says, 'I'll learn it, I will, all right after this. That girl learned me a lot this afternoon, she did. I see things from a diff'runt standpoint now that I never see before,' he says. 'An' I'm a-goin' to ac' diff'runt after this.' An' so I says, 'Well, I'll tell her Archie, but I can't say how she'll take it. She's pretty much up in arms, I can see, an' I ain't to blame if she's so sore about it she turns you down. You better speak to her yourself!' I says."

  "That isn't at all necessary," said Gail, speaking up quickly and coldly. "Just tell Mr. Charmer that I accept his apology. But I can't think of continuing in the position any longer. I'll keep the money that I earned today, but I don't want any more."

  "Now, Miss Desmond, looka here!" said Farley. "I ain't gonna take no fer an answer! Not 'specially when you underwent annoyance in our employ. You think I'm a-gonta lose a good high-class actress like you are fer any fresh fella like Arch Charmer? Ef you can't give Arch Charmer another chance, then he goes. I've said it, an' I'll stick to it. Archie's fate lies in your fair hand, Miss Desmond. If it comes to a choice between you an' him, I take you every time. I'm willin' to pay you ten dollars a day an' use only high-class stuff. In fact, you can jest about pick yer own pictures, if you like. There you have a chance to do a little real philanthropic good in the world. Help me elevate the masses through the movin' pictures. There isn't anything so educatin' in the world, and I'm doin' a thankless job all by myself. Bob's helpin' me some, I'll admit, but Bob can't see it yet. Bob thinks it won't pay. He says to me, 'Harry!' says he. 'People don't want to be uplifted. They won't pay fer it, and we can't afford to give it to 'em. We can't afford to get good actors to act refined pictures.' Why, Bob even said we couldn't keep you. He said you were too refined for the rest of the comp'ny. He said that yesterday when I hired you!"

  Mr. Farley had been a salesman for ladies' silk hosiery before he took up the moving-picture business, and his tongue was long and agile. He had started in to talk the new girl into staying, and he meant to do it. He saw possibilities in her that his business training told him were of great commercial value. So he talked, watching her face and changing his arguments with every varying expression.

  Gail was tired to desperation. She was almost sick with excitement and fatigue and the feeling of disgrace that was upon her. But the man rattled on, fondly supposing that his arguments were bringing her to a different view of things. Suddenly she broke in upon his harangue with a question.

  "Mr. Farley, what about that scene? Can you leave it out entirely? Because I couldn't consent to go through it again with that man or any other, no matter how they did it."

  "Sure!" lied Farley soothingly. "Sure we can let that go. Cut it here and there or leave it out entirely. We couldn't think of putting you through that again after all you've went through already about it. Not that you would be troubled that way again. Poor Archie will be a humble one from now on, I can tell you, but I wouldn't ask it of you. In fact, the rest of the picture is so good we can afford to cut a little. Often have to do that. It's all in the day's work, you know."

  He smiled affably and again held out the five dollars. He was reasonably sure he had won her over.

  "You needn't come in early tomorrow morning; just take a good rest. Make it ten o'clock. That'll suit all right. We--"

  Gail stopped him.

  "Mr. Farley, I thank you for your kind offer, but it is utterly impossible for me to continue in this work. This afternoon's experience has opened my eyes and made me realize what I have done in allowing myself through want of money to get into it at all. I am not a fool, and I realize that such scenes as that one this afternoon are common on the screen. But the actors who go through with them must throw away their principles, and I cannot do that. I have done wrong in taking the position at all. I cannot think of remaining. Not if you offered me a thousand dollars a day. God will take care of me. Good-bye, Mr. Farley."

  She was gone, leaving the nonplussed man staring after her in utter amazement, his money still in his hand. What kind of a girl could this be? He had flattered himself that he had recognized that she was different from most girls, but what a strange way of talking. What did she mean by "God will take care of me"? Could she mean that she was willing to take a chance on God's giving her food and clothes? Well, she must be crazy. He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his desk. They had the film anyway, and they must get it released at the first possible minute or there was no telling what strange thing might happen next. He thought he had made a wonderful find, right on the street, as it were. She had helped them to make the best picture the firm ever had produced, and now she had balked, all on account of that fool Charmer and a funny notion about God. Well, it was a strange world. He must see to it that Charmer apologized the next day himself; maybe that would do.

  Now it was up to him to see that the film was released as soon as possible.

  Gail was as one in a dream as she stumbled back to her room. She wanted nothing so much as to be alone. She was not clear in her mind about anything except that this awful experience that had come to her was of her own doing. She remembered how she had rushed out the day before--was it only the day before?--without even so much as a hurried prayer for guidance. Oh, how could she have forgotten? She flung herself upon the bed and cried as she had not cried since she was a little child.

  Late the next afternoon, the clerk in the office downstairs looked up to see one of the regular roomers excitedly hurrying toward her.

  "Miss Rittenhouse, I'm sure something is wrong in the room next to mine. I heard someone moaning this morning before I left, and now I hear it again. Is someone sick there?"

  "I'm sure I don't know, unless it's the forsaken-looking girl in the dark blue dress. I've thought she would get pneumonia the way she runs around in the rain in that thin little coat."

  The two women hurried up to see, and after getting no response to a knock, the clerk opened the door with her passkey.

  Chapter 17

  Gail was kneeling by the bed moaning and calling like a little child, "Father! Father! Forgive me!"

  They lifted her into bed and the clerk hurried down to call a doctor.

  "I hope it's nothing contagious," she fretted, "or we'll all be put in quarantine."

  The other woman worked awkwardly at Gail's clothes, trying to make her more comfortable. She was not used to sickness and had no idea how to deal with it.

  When the brisk young doctor came, he looked with interest and gentle pity at the weary lines on the sweet young face. After his examination, he held a consultation with the two women.

  "She ought to go to a hospital at once, if she is to live," he said. "Where are her friends?"

  "I doubt if she has any," Miss Rittenhouse answered, a worried pucker between her brows. "She didn't give any home address when she registered. She has been hunting a job for weeks. I don't know whether she has found one yet or not."

  "Here's three dollars and some change in her purse." The other woman had been looking in Gail's bag for some mark of identification.

  "Very likely that's all she has then, for she has been thinner and more worried every time she went through the office."

  "Poor little girl," sighed the doctor. "Well, I'll have to take her to the ward. I doubt if she has strength enough to pull through at all. Call the hospital if you find she has friends or relatives. I'll send the ambulance right down."

  The young doctor glanced again at the beautiful lashes drooping sadly over the flushed cheeks and hurried away to his next case.

  Not many minutes after the last clang of the ambulance bell had died away in the distance, Miss Rittenhouse looked up to see a handsome young man enter the lobby. One could tell on close examination that his somewhat startling complexion was carefully put on. He brushed a little fleck of lint from his coat as he walked toward the desk.

  "Miss Desmond?" He enunciated with the slightest upward inflection as if to admit unwillingly that he really was asking a question.
He daintily extracted a card from his pocket. "Mr. Charmer calling," he murmured, as though the information were quite unnecessary and as though the call itself were an honor to the whole building.

  The usually stern and unbending Miss Rittenhouse suddenly melted. She did not attend the movies for nothing, although she did go to the early show so as to be fresh for her work, for at her age a position must not be thrown away lightly. The visitor was quite familiar to her, and her eyes lighted.

  "Oh, Mr. Charmer! Archie Charmer, of course!" she murmured to herself in honeyed tones. She took the card as though it were marked "Handle with care." But Mr. Charmer was accustomed to such receptions. He repeated his errand.

  "Is Miss Desmond in?"

  Miss Rittenhouse's face fell. To think that she should meet this wonderful hero and be obliged to disappoint him! What could he want of that common-looking girl?

  "I'm so sorry! Miss Desmond was taken to the hospital just now. She is very ill." Miss Rittenhouse seemed to apologize in her tone for Gail's error in being sick when he called.

  Amazement showed in every line of the actor's well-tailored figure.

  "Why--why--you don't say! I just saw her yesterday. She seemed strong enough then." He ruefully rubbed his cheek where, even through his careful makeup, there showed bruises of various colors.

  "She is very, very sick, the doctor said. Is there any message you care to leave?"

  Mr. Charmer had been given to understand that it was as much as his position was worth not to bring back Miss Desmond to the employ of the company. So, much against his own desires, he felt that he must follow her. After the wild attacks upon him yesterday, visions of himself calling at an insane asylum suggested themselves. But he was reassured when Miss Rittenhouse told him that Gail had pneumonia and named the hospital to which she had been taken.