Godolphin looked at his watch. "It's eleven now, and she isn't here yet.
I would rather not have begun without her, but I think we had better not
delay any longer." He excused himself to Louise, and went and sat down
with his hat on at a small table, lit with a single electric bulb,
dropping like a luminous spider by a thread from the dark above. Other
electric bulbs were grouped before reflectors on either side of the
stage, and these shone on the actors before Godolphin. Back in the
depths of the stage, some scene-painters and carpenters were at work on
large strips of canvas lying unrolled upon the floor or stretched upon
light wooden frames. Across Godolphin's head the dim hollow of the
auditorium showed, pierced by long bars of sunlight full of dancing
motes, which slanted across its gloom from the gallery windows. Women in
long aprons were sweeping the floors and pounding the seats, and a smell
of dust from their labors mixed with the smell of paint and glue and
escaping gas which pervaded the atmosphere of the stage.
Godolphin made Maxwell come and sit with him at the table; he opened his
prompt-book and directed the rehearsal to begin. The people were mostly
well up in their parts, and the work went smoothly, except for now and
then an impatience in Godolphin which did not seem to come from what was
going forward.
He showed himself a thorough master of his trade in its more mechanical
details, and there were signal instances of his intelligence in the
higher things of it which might well have put Mrs. Maxwell to shame for
her many hasty judgments of the actor. He was altogether more of a man,
more of a mind, than she had supposed, even when she supposed the best
of him. She perceived that Godolphin grasped the whole meaning of her
husband's work, and interpreted its intentions with perfect accuracy,
not only in his own part of Haxard, but in all the other persons, and
he corrected the playing of each of the rôles as the rehearsal went on.
She saw how he had really formed the other actors upon himself. They
repeated his tones, his attitudes, his mannerisms, in their several
ways. His touch could be felt all through the performance, and his
limitations characterized it. He was very gentle and forbearing with
their mistakes, but he was absolute master all the same. If some one
erred, Godolphin left his place and went and showed how the thing should
be said and done. He carefully addressed the men by their surnames, with
the Mr. always; the women were all Dear to him, according to a
convention of the theatre. He said, "No, dear," and "Yes, dear," and he
was as caressingly deferential to each of them as he was formally
deferential to the men; he required the same final obedience of them,
and it was not always so easy to make them obey. In non-essentials he
yielded at times, as when one of the ladies had overdone a point, and he
demurred. "But I always got a laugh on that, Mr. Godolphin," she
protested. "Oh, well, my dear, hang on to your laugh, then." However he
meant to do Haxard himself, his voice was for simplicity and reality in
others. "Is that the way you would do it, is that the way you would say
it, if it were _you_?" he stopped one of the men in a bit of rant.
Even of Maxwell he exacted as clear a vision of his own work as he
exacted of its interpreters. He asked the author his notion of points in
dress and person among the different characters, which he had hitherto
only generalized in his mind, and which he was gladly willing, when they
were brought home to him, to leave altogether to Godolphin's judgment.
The rehearsal had gone well on towards the end of the first act, and
Godolphin was beginning to fidget. From where she sat Louise saw him
take out his watch and lean towards her husband to say something. An
actor who was going through a piece of business perceived that he had
not Godolphin's attention, and stopped. Just then Mrs. Harley came in.
Godolphin rose and advanced towards her with the prompt-book shut on his
thumb. "You are late, Miss Havisham."
"Yes," she answered, haughtily, as if in resentment of his tone. She
added in concession, "Unavoidably. But Salome doesn't come on till the
end of the act."
"I think it best for the whole company to be present from the
beginning," said Godolphin.
"I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Harley. "Where are we?" she asked,
and then she caught sight of Louise, and came up to her. "How do you do,
Mrs. Maxwell? I don't know whether I'm glad to see you or not. I believe
I'm rather afraid to have you see my Salome; I've an idea you are going
to be very severe with her."
"I am sure no severity will be needed. You'll see me nodding approval
all the way through," Louise returned.
"I have always thought, somehow, that you had the part especially under
your protection. I feel that I'm a very bold woman to attempt it."
In spite of her will to say "Yes, a very bold woman indeed!" Louise
answered: "Then I shall admire your courage, as well as your art."
She was aware of Godolphin fretting at the colloquy he could not
interrupt, and of Mrs. Harley prolonging it wilfully. "I know you are
sincere, and I am going to make you tell me everything you object to in
me when it's over. Will you?"
"Of course," Louise answered, gayly; and now Mrs. Harley turned to
Godolphin again: "_Where_ were you?"