STAGE-STRUCK.
For the next week but little was talked of at the Folly, save the
forthcoming theatricals.
The morning hours grew strangely silent. Gone was the light laughter,
banished the echo of gay voices, the quick coming and going of youthful
feet; indeed, to any one entering suddenly and unknowing, the air of the
house was so changed and transformed they might well exclaim, "The place
is haunted!"
And haunted it certainly was, but with fair ghosts in modern raiment,
who, if they moved about at all, did so with tragic step and abstracted
gaze, or with comic gesture and exaggerated action, accompanied by
eagerly-moving lips, from which, however, no sound proceeded, while
each and all held, tightly clasped and closely scanned, one of those
thin yellow paper books which Mr. French has made so happily familiar to
all of us.
Indeed, as Dick Darling remarked, with a piteous shake of her head, and
a twisting up of her round mouth, "There wasn't such a thing as a 'rise'
to be got out of any one of them, since the craze for acting had
descended upon them."
Now and then George Newbold, in honour of whose birthday all this
commotion was undertaken, would come upon a solitary group of
two--always a girl and a man--who evidently considered learning in
couples the quickest way, and who would scowl upon him distractedly when
he approached them, or seem wrapped in contemplation of the other's
genius as, with halting speech and flushed face, he or she repeated
their respective lines.
Mr. Newbold had been heard to declare more than once within the safe
precincts of the smoking-room, in language more forcible than polite,
that for his part, he should be glad when the "shindy" was all over; and
as to its having anything to do with him, or his birthday, it was
a--lie. He didn't see where his fun came in, since he took no part in
it.
"Paying the bills, old man," replied Jack Howard, lazily, to this
outburst; "what more can you ask? Isn't that the proud position and
boast of the typical American husband?"
To which grim comfort George only replied by lighting a very large and
disreputable-looking pipe, and smoking furiously.
Miss James was among those who elected to study _à deux_, and had
undertaken, in this way, Jack Howard's education, who, much to Baby
Leonard's chagrin, had become in some manner, the clever Rosalie's
slave. Baby, with tears in her eyes, marked his defalcation from her
ranks, and with a feeling of self-pity and wounded vanity, sought
compensation in Freddy Slade, and absorption in her rôle.
Between Miss James and Dick Darling coolness reigned. These once fast
friends were now almost declared enemies, for even Dick's proverbial
good-nature was not proof against the continued and unbending anger of
her whilom friend. Miss James had neither forgotten nor forgiven little
Marianne's unfortunate revelations, and she visited her annoyance and
jealousy upon Dick, who at least was guiltless of all wish to offend;
and from brooding over Mr. Perkins' plain and unvarnished words, Rosalie
grew to forget they were the utterance of a servant, and magnified their
consequence until she fairly hated Dick, and longed to see some evil
befall her.
Perhaps the keenest sting of all lay in the fact of her humiliation
before Mr. Tremain, for, with an unreasoning confidence, she had made
out to herself that Philip was attracted to her, that he found in her a
mind superior to the general run of young ladies, and that consequently
he might, in time, come to fully realise and appreciate her abilities,
and so, perhaps, would be solved the enigma of her future; for Miss
James was no longer a _jeune ingénue_, and the thought of continued
single-blessedness troubled her not a little.
It was therefore very bitter to be humiliated in his presence, and to
see the lurking smile gather about his lips at Marianne's reckless
disclosures. Mr. Tremain, be it remarked, was innocent of any
co-operation in Miss James's schemes; he did not even give her a second
thought beyond the necessities of every-day life; and the fact that they
were often thrown together created no suspicion in his mind, as to any
ulterior hopes being built upon his words and manner. Though, indeed,
Philip had that courteous and deferential bearing towards women which
made his smallest service an appeal, and his lightest word a caress--as
Dick Darling said, "When he asked one to have sugar in one's tea, it was
with such an assumption of intimacy and entreaty, one might well imagine
he was suing for one's heart and hand."
Perhaps Miss James built upon this manner, and though so clever in
ologies and ethics, failed to read aright the signs of this man's heart,
and raised foundations on sand in consequence.
And still Patricia did not come. Each day Mr. Tremain looked for the old
familiar witching face in the circle of "fair women" who gathered at
tea-time in the pleasant library; where the wide fireplace, never empty
of smouldering pine-logs, was very attractive in the chilly spring
mornings and evenings. But he looked in vain. The faces were constantly
changing--for Mrs. Newbold was a great favourite, and had many
guests--and they were fair enough, too, but none so fair as Patty's, as
he remembered it, ten years ago, and not so winsome or so full of grace.
He was too proud to ask news of her; ever since his conversation with
Esther, his heart had gone forth more and more to his little wayward
love of a decade ago, and though he turned his thoughts resolutely from
all remembrance of her, and sternly told himself that he had been right
in his judgment of her, she was but a frivolous butterfly, and as such
more unsuited than ever to him in his graver years, still there would
come unbidden a lurking memory of her sweet mutinous face, the wilful
lips, the flashing eyes, the silks and laces that surrounded her lithe
form, the faint sweet odour of violets that always accompanied her, and
he would pull himself up with a start to find his heart and mind gone
captive to the ghost of his old love.
"Ten years ago!" he said, half unconsciously to himself, "ten years ago!
It is ten years since we parted; why, Patty must be past her _jeunesse_
now; she was nineteen then, she is nine-and-twenty now, and what woman
keeps youth's fairness or freshness when so close on thirty? Patty
thirty! Patty grown out of wilful, petulant girlhood; Patty with
suffering and change written on her face; nay, with perhaps a wrinkle
or two, or even a gray thread in the soft brown darkness of her hair!"
Impossible! He could never think of her save as when they parted, when
she was in the full flush and arrogance of her young beauty, surrounded
by every luxury, and flattered by the gay homage of her little court,
triumphant, sparkling, inaccessible. To picture her in any different
guise, was to wilfully take down his idol from its pedestal.
He sauntered into the library one afternoon, at the accustomed hour of
tea, and found the room full of people. Mrs. Newbold was pouring Indian
Hyson into faultless cups of royal Worcester, which Jack Howard passed
about, followed by Dick Darling with what she called "the trimmings,"
_i.e._ sugar and cream.
An animated discussion was going on, so Philip's entrance was unnoticed
save by Miss James, who beckoned to him to take the empty chair beside
her. Nothing loth to escape introductions, he fell into her scheme and
made her supremely happy; for they sat a little withdrawn from the
general group, and this made Mr. Tremain's position all the more marked.
Miss James was never quite content unless what she called Philip's
"attentions" were fully _en évidence_.
Dick Darling's bright eyes spied him out presently, and she brought him
a cup of tea, handing it to him with a shrug of her shoulders and an
absolute wink of her eye, at which Miss James coloured and cast an angry
look after the retreating culprit.
"And when is Miss Hildreth coming?" were the first words that caught Mr.
Tremain's ear, and riveted his attention at once.
"Not until the very day of the play," replied Mrs. Newbold. "It's rather
provoking of her, isn't it? But really, you know, Patricia's so spoiled,
and it doesn't very much matter. She's quite perfect in her part, and we
can have a dress rehearsal before evening on _the_ day, if necessary."
"And who acts Henri de Flavigneul's part?" asked another voice.
"Oh, Mr. Tremain," replied Mrs. Newbold again. "You need have no fear,
Mrs. Beverley. Mr. Tremain is _sans reproche_ in his character."
"Do you mean Philip Tremain," the lady persisted, "the clever Mr.
Tremain, who has such bijou chambers and who is so unapproachable? But
surely, won't that be a little awkward? Wasn't he once engaged to Miss
Hil----?"
But here Dick Darling managed to upset the brass water-kettle, and in
the confusion which ensued the question was never completed.
Soon after the guests took their departure, and as the house party stood
about the fire waiting for the dressing-gong, Esther said:
"I am sure it is high time we had a rehearsal; we shall never be ready
if we go on in this lazy fashion. I have sent for Mr. Robinson, of
Wallack's Theatre, to coach you all, and he will be here to-morrow; so I
call a rehearsal for that afternoon, and I advise you to study up well,
for he's a perfect martinet regarding correct lines, and thinks nothing
of reducing one to abject misery by his sarcasm."
"But who will take Miss Hildreth's part?" asked Baby Leonard. "It's no
use our rehearsing if the Countess isn't here--it will be _Hamlet_ with
Hamlet left out, and no mistake."
"Baby is thinking of her grand scene," murmured Miss James aside to
Philip. "Her part is nothing without the Countess as a foil."
"Some one might read the lines of her rôle," suggested Freddy Slade,
who, as De Grignon, thought very little of any other character. "It
won't matter very much if one only gets one's proper cues."
"Oh, but it matters a great deal, thank you," cried Baby, quite roused
from her usual lethargy. "Who wants to act to bare cues, I should like
to know? And how is one to work up into anything, if one hasn't the
proper assistance?"
"You are quite right, Baby," said Esther, when she could make herself
heard, "and you shan't be put in any such dampening position. Mdlle.
Lamien has offered to be Patricia's substitute, and she knows the lines
by heart. I think it's very good-natured of her."
To which there was a general assent, only Miss James whispered again to
Mr. Tremain:
"You will have no temptation to draw you from your allegiance to your
Baby-ish sweetheart, Mr. Tremain. Mdlle. Lamien can scarcely offer any
counter attractions, as the Countess, to Baby, as Léonie."
Then with a quick upward look and the least perceptible halt: "How would
it be, I wonder, if our capricious leading lady were here in person?"
The glance she gave him was brief; but in the second that her eyes
scanned his face, she noted the blood steal slowly into his cheeks, and
the lines deepen about his mouth, and with an angry impotent throb at
her heart she realised his secret, and the hopelessness of her plans and
desires. She turned away however, as the gong sounded, with a light
laugh, despite the dull heavy sense of her own impuissance.
Mr. Tremain was not long in completing his toilette that evening, and
when he came downstairs and made his way to the library in search of a
book, it was with the purpose of half an hour's quiet reading before
dinner. He crossed the room to the low book-cases that lined one side,
and selecting his volume turned back to the fireplace, where a low
reading-lamp on the sofa-table made an inviting resting-place.
He had thought himself quite alone, and was consequently not a little
surprised to see within the shadow of the chimney recess, opposite to
him, the dark quiet figure of Mdlle. Lamien. He put down his book with
a half-sigh, and approached her; not even at the sacrifice of his
dearest self-indulgence could Mr. Tremain be discourteous to a lady,
still less to a stranger and a dependent. Moreover, he acknowledged to
himself that Mdlle. Lamien exercised a distinct and strange kind of
spell over him, reminding him in some occult mysterious way of Patricia,
though why and wherefore he was at a loss to explain.
It was not that these two women--who had so little in common, whose
lives were as wide apart as the poles, and whose interests were as
diversely opposite as well could be--had ever met; and yet--such is the
strong personal magnetism of certain natures--Philip, though he had
spoken but twice to Mimi's governess, felt the sense of her power over
him; a power so subtle, and yet so strong as to amount almost to
physical force; while always with the sense of this domination came the
thought of Patricia.
Mdlle. Lamien was sitting where first he remembered seeing her, well
within the shadowed recess; her face, even in the subdued light of the
single lamp, looked paler than ever, perhaps because its waxen pallor
was touched by a shade of red in the cheeks; the kindly shadows hid the
painful mark that disfigured one of them, but the light, catching the
silver of the wavy hair beneath the falling lace folds, played about it,
and across the dark sombre eyes, and thin hands that lay clasped with a
sorrowful droop on her knees.
As Philip drew near to her, some polite words of salutation on his lips,
she suddenly raised her head, and turning it more fully towards the
light, smiled at him. It was wonderful, the effect of her smile; in a
moment, as it flashed across her face, it transfigured it wholly, and
restored, once more, somewhat of the youth and beauty of bygone days.
Mr. Tremain stood spell-bound; once again there swept across him that
strange intangible _something_, that reflex of Patricia, that evanescent
likeness, gone as soon as caught, yet so tantalising in its reality. As
he stood silent, amazed, and yet in a manner fascinated, by the singular
metamorphose wrought by a smile, two lines of an unpublished poem,
written by a dear dead friend, rose unbidden to his lips. He repeated
them, half unconsciously, below his breath:
"Light my path thro' Stygian darkness,
By the splendour of thy smile."
Such indeed must have been the light that glowed upon the face of
Cleopatra, when Anthony called her his
"Glorious sorceress of the Nile."
As Philip gazed upon the face before him, and no word was spoken, he
felt a sudden thrill of life and fire pass through him; the blood leapt
in his veins and flew to his face, he put out his hands entreatingly,
drawing nearer to her; he felt the subtle essence of her being wrapping
him around, enervating his mind, his will; and yet he had no power, no
desire to combat it. For it was not Mdlle. Lamien he saw, it was not her
white, wan face, with its disfiguring scar, that enchanted him, it was
not her burning eyes that held his, it was not even the present he was
conscious of. No, he was back again in the past, ten years ago, and he
was looking his last upon his sweet girl-love, seeing the mocking smile
upon her lips, the trembling hands, the piteous, defiant eyes.
"Patricia," he cried, "Patricia!" And as he called her name, the spell
was broken, the glory faded, the past fell from him, and he found
himself alone; and only the light rustle of a silken gown, the faint
click of a closing door, gave evidence of a departing presence.
"Good heavens!" he said at last, drawing a deep breath, and looking
about him uncertainly, "who and what is this Mdlle. Lamien, that she is
so like, and yet so unlike Patricia? And what spell does she own to
trick me into such hysteric emotion?"
Then the door opened, and Long came in, followed by Perkins, and the wax
candles were lit in the brackets and sconces, and the room from
semi-darkness and mysterious shadows, leapt into vivid, brilliant life.
Then came Mrs. Newbold, bringing a touch of this world's goods in her
latest importation of a Wörth gown, full of joyful content and
well-being, fastening her gloves and jingling her jewelled bangles, and
looking very much surprised to find Mr. Tremain in advance of her.
And so the hour passed and the spell faded, and Philip gave no further
thought to Mdlle. Lamien or, strange to say, to Patricia.
Miss James scored several points that evening in her own estimation,
and felt almost feverishly anxious to have the preliminaries over with,
and her engagement to Philip recognised as _un fait accompli_.