drunken husband's amours with the servant-maid disgusted rather than
horrified. In the fourth act the wretched husband 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 beauty of the conclusion, when the deserted wife, in
the silence of her drawing-room, reads again Captain Grey's letter, telling
her that he has left England for ever, and with another, the success of the
play was left in doubt, and the audience filed out, talking, chattering,
arguing, wondering what the public verdict would be.

To avoid commiseration of heartless friends and the triumphant glances of
literary enemies, Hubert passed through the door leading on to the stage.
Scene-shifters were brutally pushing away what remained of his play; and
the presence of Hamilton Brown, the dramatic author, talking to Ford, was
at that 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 went upstairs to take his paint off, and Hubert walked
about the stage with Brown. Brown's insincerity was sufficiently
transparent; but men in Hubert's position catch at straws, and he soon
began to believe that the attitude of the public towards his play was not
so unfavourable as he had imagined.

Hubert tried to summon up a smile for the stage-door keeper, who, he
feared, had heard that the piece had failed, and then the moment they got
outside he begged Rose to tell him the exact truth. She assured him that
Ford had said that he had always counted on a certain amount of opposition;