Hubert raised his hat courteously.
"Good evening, Miss West. Of course you may speak to me!" he said. "Can
I do anything for you?"
"Yes," answered the girl with a quickness which sounded abrupt, but
which, as could easily be seen, was born of shyness and not of
incivility. "You can get me an engagement if you like, Mr. Lepel; and I
wish you would."
Hubert laughed, not thinking that she was in earnest, and surveyed her
critically.
"You will not have much difficulty in getting one for yourself, I should
think," he said.
Miss West colored and drew back rather haughtily. It was evident that
she did not like remarks of a personal bearing, although Mr. Lepel had
spoken only as he would have thought himself licensed to speak to girls
of her profession, who are generally open to such compliments--and
indeed she was not very likely to escape compliments. As he looked at
her in the light of the gas-lamps before the theatre, Hubert Lepel
became gradually aware that there stood before him one of the most
beautiful women he had ever seen.
She was tall--nearly as tall as himself--but so finely proportioned that
she gave the impression of less height than she really possessed. Every
movement of her lithe limbs was full of grace; she was slender without
being thin, and lissom as an untrained beautiful creature of the woods.
In after-days, when Hubert knew her better, he used to compare her to a
young panther for grace and freedom of motion. It was a pleasure to
watch her walk, although her step was longer and freer than to Enid
Vane's teachers would have seemed desirable. Her features were perfectly
cut; the broad forehead, the straight nose, the curved lips and
slightly-puckered chin were of the type recognised as purely Greek, and
the complexion and eyes accompanying these features were rich in the
coloring that glows upon the canvases of Murillo and Velasquez. The skin
was of a creamy brown, heightened by a carmine tint in the oval cheeks;
the eyes were large, dark, and lustrous, with long black lashes and
well-defined black brows. It seemed somehow to Hubert as if those eyes
were familiar to him, but he could not recollect how or why. For the
rest, Miss Cynthia West was a very well-dressed, stylish-looking young
woman, neither fast nor shabby in her mode of attire; and the things
that she wore served--intentionally or not--to set off her good looks to
the best advantage. Hubert had seen her several times off and on the
stage during the past few weeks since his return to England; she took
none but minor parts, but was so remarkably handsome that she had begun
to attract remark. He was a little surprised by her speech to him, and
hardly thought she could be in earnest. In fact, he suspected her of a
mere desire to attract his attention.
"I thought you were at the Frivolity?" he said.
"I have left the Frivolity," she answered abruptly. "This afternoon's
engagement is the only one I have had for a fortnight; and I have
nothing in prospect."
He gave her a keener look, and in spite of her brave bearing and her
dainty clothes, he thought he perceived a slight pinching of the
delicate features, a dark shade beneath the eyes which--if he remembered
rightly--had not been there two months before. Was it possible that the
girl was really in want? Could he put his hand into his pocket and offer
her money? He might make the attempt at any rate.
"Can I be of any use to you--in this way?" he began, inserting two
fingers into his waistcoat-pocket in a sufficiently significant manner.
He was aware of his mistake the next moment. An indignant flush spread
over the girl's whole face; her eyes expressed such hurt surprise that
Mr. Lepel felt rather ashamed of his suggestion.
"I did not ask you for money," said Miss West; "I asked if you could get
me something to do." Then she turned away with a gesture which Hubert
took for one of mere petulance, though the feeling that actuated it
bordered more nearly on despair. "Oh," she said with a quick nervous
irritation audible in her tone, "I thought that you would
understand!"--and her beautiful dark eyes swam in tears.
They were still standing on the pavement, and at that moment two or
three passers-by shouldered Hubert somewhat roughly, and stared at the
girl to whom he was speaking. Hubert placed himself at her side.
"Come," he said--"Walk on a few paces with me, and make me understand
what you want when we get to a quieter spot."
She bowed her head; it was evident that if she had spoken the tears
would have fallen from her eyes. Hubert turned up the comparatively dark
and quiet street in which stood the theatre that he had just visited;
but for a few minutes he did not speak. At last he said in the soothing
voice which was sometimes thought to be his greatest charm--
"Now will you make me understand? I beg your pardon for having offended
you by my offer of help; I meant it in all kindness. You have not an
engagement just now, you say?"
"It is not easy to get one," said the girl, with a quiver in her proud
young voice. "It is not a good time, you know. I had two or three offers
of engagements with provincial companies this autumn, but I refused them
all because I had this one at the Frivolity. They were to give me two
pounds a week; and it was considered a very good engagement. Besides, it
was a London engagement, which I thought it better to take while I had
the chance. But I have lost it now, and I don't know what to do."
"You know the first question one naturally feels inclined to put to you,
Miss West, is, why did you leave the Frivolity?"
"I can't tell you the real reason," said the girl sharply. The color in
her face seemed now to be concentrated in two flaming spots in her
cheeks; her mouth was set, and her brow contracted over the brilliant
eyes. "I quarrelled with the manager--that was all."
"Let me see--the manager is Ferguson, is he not? I know him."
"But he is not a friend of yours?" said Cynthia, turning towards him
with a look of sudden dismay.
"Certainly not! He is the most confirmed liar I ever met," Hubert
answered without a smile.
But he was a little curious in his own mind. From what he knew of
Ferguson, he supposed it likely that the man had been making love to the
young actress, that she had refused to listen to him, and that he had
therefore dismissed her from the troupe. Such things had happened
before, he knew, during Mr. Ferguson's reign; and the Frivolity did not
bear the very best character in the world. With a girl of Cynthia West's
remarkable beauty, it was pretty easy to guess the story, although the
girl in her innocence thought that she was concealing it completely.
"He said that I was careless," Cynthia went on rapidly. "He changed the
hour for rehearsal twice, and let everybody know but me; then I was
fined, of course; and I complained, and then he said I had better go."
"What made you come to me?" said Hubert. "I am not a manager, you know."
"You have a great deal of influence," she said, rather more shyly than
she had spoken hitherto.
"Very little indeed. Other people have much more. Why did you not try
Gurney or Thomson or Macalister?"--mentioning names well known in the
theatrical world.
"Oh, Mr. Lepel," said the girl, almost in a whisper, "you will think me
so foolish if I tell you!"
"No, I sha'n't. Do tell me why!"
"Well"--still in a whisper--"it was because I read a story, that you had
written--a tale about a girl called Amy Maitland--do you remember?"
"I ought to remember," said Hubert thoughtfully, "because I know I wrote
it; but an author does not always recall his old stories very
accurately, Miss West. It was a short tale for a Christmas number, I
know. What was there in it that could cause you to honor me in this way,
I wonder?"
"Ah, don't laugh at me, please, Mr. Lepel!" Cynthia's voice was so sweet
in its entreating tones that Hubert thought he had never heard anything
more musical. "It was all about a girl who was poor like me, and whose
parents were dead, and about her adventures, you know--particularly
about her not being able to get any work to do, and nearly throwing
herself into the river. I have had the thought more than once lately
that it would end with me in that way--the river looks so deep and
silent and mysterious--doesn't it? But that's all nonsense, I suppose!
However, when I read about Amy in the old Christmas number, that my
landlady lent me the other night, it came to my mind that I had seen you
behind the scenes, and that, if you could write in that way, you might
be more ready--ready to help----" She stopped short, a little breathless
after her long and tremulous speech.
"My poor child," said Hubert, with the tender accent that showed that he
was moved, "I am afraid it does not always follow. However, let us take
the most cheerful view possible of all things, even of novelists, and
try to believe that they practise what they preach. It would be hard if
I did not prove worthy of your confidence, Miss West. I am sure I don't
know whether I will be able to do anything for you or not, but I will
see."
"Thank you, Mr. Lepel."
She said the words very low, and drew a quick breath of relief as she
said them. By the light of a gas-lamp under which they were passing at
the moment Hubert saw that she had turned very pale. He halted suddenly.
"I am very thoughtless," he said, "not to recollect that you must be
tired, and that I am perhaps taking you out of your way."
"No," said Cynthia simply; "I always go this way. I lodge at a
boarding-house in the Euston Road."
"Then let us to business at once!" exclaimed Mr. Lepel, in a cheerful
tone. "What sort of engagement do you want, Miss West?"
She was silent for a minute or two. Then she said, with some unusual
timidity of manner--
"I should very much like to have an engagement at a place where I could
sing."
"Sing!" repeated Hubert, arching his brows a little. "Can you sing? Have
you a voice?"
"Yes," said Cynthia.
The audacity of the assertion took away Hubert's breath. He looked at
her pityingly.
"My dear Miss West, are you aware that singing is a profession in
itself, and requires a professional training, like other things?"
"Yes. But I can sing," said the girl decidedly.
"Where did you learn?"
"At school, and then of an old music-master in the boarding-house where
I am living."
If he had not been afraid of wounding her feelings, Hubert would have
shrugged his shoulders. They were again standing on the pavement, face
to face, and he refrained from the scornful gesture.
"Well," he said, after a short pause, "if you think so, there is nothing
to do but to try you. I must hear you sing, Miss West, before I can say
anything about a musical engagement. Shall I come and see you
to-morrow?"
"Oh, no!" said Cynthia, with such transparent horror at the suggestion
that Mr. Lepel was very much amused. "We have no piano, and I am sure
that Mrs. Wadsley would not like it."
"Then will you come to my rooms at twelve o'clock to-morrow morning?"
"Thank you. Oh, Mr. Lepel, I am so very, very much obliged to you!"
"I have done nothing yet to merit thanks, Miss West. I shall be only
glad if I can be the means of assisting a fellow-artist out of a
difficulty." He saw that the words brought a bright glow of gratified
feeling to the girl's face. "Here is my card; my rooms are not very far
off, you see--in Russell square."
Cynthia took the card and thanked him again so warmly that Hubert
assured her that he was already overpaid. They had reached the broad
torrent of life that rolls down New Oxford street, and further
conversation became almost impossible. Hubert bent his head to say--
"Shall I put you into a cab now, or may I see you home?"
"Neither, thank you," she said, shaking her head. "I am quite well used
to going about alone; and it is a very little way. Good night; and I am
so much obliged to you!"
"Let me see you over this crossing, at any rate," said Hubert.
She was too quick for him; she had already plunged into the tide, and he
saw her the next moment halting on the central resting-place of the
broad thoroughfare. He attempted to follow, but was too late, and had to
wait a moment or two for a couple of heavy carts. When the road was
clear again, he saw that she had safely reached the other side; and, as
soon as he had crossed, he dimly perceived her graceful figure some
distance ahead on the sombre pavements of Bedford square. His impulse
was to overtake her, but after a few rapid strides he abandoned the
intention. The girl was safe enough at that early hour; no doubt she was
accustomed, as she said, to take care of herself. No need to launch into
a romantic episode--to walk behind her, keeping watch and ward, as if
she were likely to encounter terrible danger on the way. And yet, for
some reason or another, he continued to walk--slowly now--in the
direction which Cynthia West had taken.
It was quite out of his own way to go all along Gower street and
eastward down the Euston Road, yet that was what he did. He saw the tall
slight figure stop at an iron gate, push it open, and walk up the
flagged pavement to the door of a dingy but highly respectable-looking
house. The Euston Road is a neighborhood not greatly affected by people
of fastidious taste; and Hubert wondered, with a shrug of the shoulders,
why Miss West had found a lodging in the very midst of its ceaseless
maddening roar. He passed the house with a slow step, and as he did so
he read an inscription on the brass plate which adorned the gate by
which Cynthia had entered--
"MRS. WADSLEY.
"Select Boarding-House for Ladies and Gentlemen.
"Moderate Terms."
"Very moderate and very select, no doubt," thought Hubert cynically.
"Now is that girl making a fool of me, or is she not? All those pretty
airs might so easily be put on by a clever actress. I shall find her out
to-morrow. She can act a little--I know that; but, if she can't sing,
after what she has said, she may go to Jericho for me! And, if she does
not come at all, why, then I shall know that she is an arrant little
impostor, and that I am a confounded fool!"
"He stopped to light a cigar under a lamp-post, and a slight smile
played over his features as he struck the match.
"She's a beautiful girl," he said to himself; "if she does turn out an
impostor, I shall be rather sorry. But, by Jove, I don't believe she
will!"