AT REHEARSAL.
As the curtain falls upon a scene in a drama, and when it rises again
so many years are supposed to have elapsed, so between the closing of
the last chapter and the opening of this six months must be supposed
to have passed. We are again in London. My mother, thank God, is well,
and I have within me the happy assurance that I have nursed her into
health; the doctor has told me so, my mother herself has repeated it a
hundred times, and I believe it and am humbly grateful.
We are living near to Paradise-row, but not in uncle Bryan's shop. My
mother, knowing all that occurred on Jessie's birthday, showed no
surprise when, on returning to London, I took her to some comfortable
rooms I had engaged, and said that these were to be our home. She made
only one remark--she hoped I would not have any objection to her going
to the shop occasionally to see Josey West. I told her I should be
glad if she went, and that I intended to go there myself very often.
We are as happy as we can reasonably expect to be. That we have
sorrows is certain; but we refrain from speaking of them. We are as
silent concerning our hopes, if we have any.
Nothing has been heard of uncle Bryan; Josey West conducts the
business as though she had been born to it, and it is really
prospering under her management. She is such a favourite with all the
neighbours, that her customers increase every week, and the takings
are nearly doubled.
'I think we shall be able to set up a plate window soon,' says Josey
West, with a grand air. 'The sale of the pills is astonishing, my
dear, astonishing! Do you know, Chris, I feel quite like a respectable
member of society! I shall soon begin to turn up my nose at
play-actors, who are nothing but vagrants, my dear, nothing but
vagrants. And they're bad paymasters, Chris; I've two of them on my
books already.'
When I ask her about Jessie, Josey says that she's all right, and that
I have no occasion to bother myself about _her_. I can extract nothing
more from her than this, and if I endeavour to press the subject
further, she turns snappish.
My mother and I have had many conversations about uncle Bryan, and I
think one great cause of her contentment is the altered state of my
feelings towards him, which I do not disguise from her. I am
prospering in a worldly sense, and when I feel most despondent I work
the hardest; it is a relief to me. My name has appeared in print,
connected with words of praise, and I often wonder whether Jessie has
seen it. As for my mother, when I brought home the paper containing
the two lines in which my work was spoken of favourably, I thought she
would have gone wild with joy. I am afraid to say how many times she
must have read the few ordinary words, but, knowing what a delight
they are to her, I am glad that I have earned them for her sake.
In this way the months roll on. With reference to my feelings towards
Jessie, I shall be almost as silent now as I was at home during that
time. Sufficient to say that I never forgot her, and that I never
loved her less; but her name is rarely mentioned at home.
There is one person, however, to whom I speak of Jessie freely--to
Turk West. Turk is getting along capitally in his shop, and has
already paid off more than half his debt to Mr. Glover. I see this
gentleman occasionally in Turk's shop; Turk shaves him, and dresses
his hair for him two or three times a week; whenever I go into the
shop and see him there, I retire immediately. I have no wish to injure
Turk's business, and when I reason calmly over matters I cannot see
what tangible ground of complaint I have against Mr. Glover--which
does not lessen my detestation of him.
'He is a good customer,' says Turk to me, 'and it will be best for
more reasons than one not to offend him. I can't say that I like
him--although I try to, Chris, my boy, let me tell you--but I know
that he is the soul of honour.'
'How _do_ you know it?' I ask.
Turk scratches his head. 'Well, _he_ says it, Chris, my boy, and
everybody says it who knows him. He comes from a highly-respectable
family.'
I can say nothing in opposition, knowing nothing of his family.
'And it is something to be proud of, Chris?' says Turk.
'What _is_, Turk?'
'To be so respectably connected.'
'I suppose so,' I answer indifferently.
Old Mac is a constant visitor at Turk's shop; indeed, it appears to me
that he spends most of his time there, for whenever I go westward and
open Turk's door, his is the first familiar face I see. He keeps
guard, as it were.
'Turk is inside,' he says; or 'Turk is upstairs, crimping a lady's
hair.' For Turk has lady as well as gentleman customer's, and has
become very skilful in the business. His flow of conversation and
anecdote is of great assistance to him; he has always something to
say, and, not having been born a barber and hairdresser, he seldom
commences about the weather--which is a relief.
On a windy day in April, I visited Turk, and, as usual, found old Mac
there. Turk, very busy over some theatrical wigs, looked up from his
work, and asked me if I wanted to speak to him. No, I answered; I had
merely dropped in as I passed. I had as little excuse for the visit as
I had for many others; I only went in the vague hope of hearing
something of Jessie. Turk understood this, without being told.
'Business good, Turk?' I inquired.
'First-class,' said Turk. 'I shall have to get an assistant, I expect.
By the bye---- O, never mind!'
He suddenly interrupted himself, in a confused manner.
'By the bye, what, Turk?'
'Nothing,' he replied, bending over his work.
Old Mac looked at me somewhat significantly, and, rising, said he
should take a stroll in Covent-garden Market.
'It does one good to walk up and down that arcade,' he said. 'One
smells the country lanes there. How would it do to have it on the
stage, Turk, with real hothouse fruit and flowers fresh from the
market gardens every night? I daresay it will come to that, in time.
The stage is not what it was, my sons.'
Winking at me, old Mac went out, and I, regarding the wink as an
invitation to follow him, wished Turk good-morning.
'This is not the way to Covent Garden,' I said, as I joined him. 'Have
you had your morning drain, Mac?'
'No, my son, no,' he replied cheerfully; 'and I know a place.'
Without more words he conducted me to the 'place,' where I paid for
his morning drain twice over.
'You took my hint, my son,' he said, when he had drained his glass,
and eaten his lemon; he always ate the slice of lemon after he
finished his glass, saying humorously that it was a preparation for
the next. 'You took my hint.'
'You wanted to speak to me I thought, Mac.'
'Well, not exactly wanted, my son; but I have something to communicate
which may be interesting to you. I know what the tender passion is,
and how it burns. I've had my day, and, faith! I'd like to have it
over again! It wasn't all sugar, my son. There was one--ah, there was
one, I do remember me, in my hot youth!--
"Her lips to mine how often did she join.
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
How many tales to please me did she coin.
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protesting.
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jesting."
But what cared I? I whistled her off, and took another, for they're as
thick as mulberries, my son. And I'd like to have my time over again,
pleasures, pains, and all. But this is not to the point, and yet it
is, although the lines will not apply--that is to say, I hope not.'
I listened in anxiety; I was well acquainted with old Mac's character
by this time, and I knew it would be useless to interrupt him and ask
him to come to the point at once; he must come to it his own way.
'Old Mac can tell a hawk from a handsaw with half an eye,' he
continued, 'and he has two good ones at his command. Old Mac says to
himself, seeing a certain talented young friend whom he esteems--your
health, my son. Ah, I forgot, my glass is empty'--(I was obliged to
fill it again; I had no fear of Mac's getting tipsy on three glasses;
he was too well seasoned)--'Old Mac says to himself, what does this
talented young friend of his mean by coming so often to Turk West's
establishment? Well, there would be nothing in that, but he comes in
unseasonable hours--that is to say, in the hours during which he is
supposed to be working for the public. What does that mean? says old
Mac, in confidence to himself. Your health, my son. It can mean but
one thing. Old Mac knows the signs. And that's why he winked at you to
follow him. _Do_ you follow me?'
'Not exactly,' I was obliged to confess, notwithstanding that I had a
dim glimmering of what was coming.
Old Mac laughed.
'Well, not to beat about the bush--but I thought I'd lead up to it by
easy stages--a certain fair friend of ours is at a certain place this
morning, and I fancied you might like to see her.'
My heart beat violently; I knew that he referred to Jessie.
'Did she tell you to come for me?'
He dashed my hopes to the ground by hurriedly replying, 'No, no, my
son; she knows nothing of it, and had best not know, perhaps. The fact
is, our fair friend is about to make her first appearance on the
boards, and she is now rehearsing her part. I know the box-keeper, and
he will let us into the dress circle, where you can see her without
her seeing you.'
I thanked him cordially, and we walked together to the theatre, and
were admitted to the dress circle, which was in complete darkness.
Certainly no one on the stage could distinguish us, but in the dim
light I could see all the actors and actresses engaged in the
rehearsal. Jessie was among them.
Eight months had passed since I last saw her, and I gazed on her with
aching eagerness. It was a cold day, and she was warmly dressed; and
the only change I could discern in her was that she appeared to have
grown more beautiful. What pain and pleasure I felt as I heard her
voice once more, fresh and sweet as ever, and saw the old familiar
action of her hands, I cannot describe.
'Steady, my son, steady,' whispered old Mac warningly.
I controlled myself, without being aware what I had done to excite
this remonstrance.
'When does she appear?' I asked in the same low tone.
'Next Monday week.'
'In her own name?'
'No; she has taken the name of Mathews. You will see the announcements
outside the theatre. There's a good deal of curiosity excited about
her already, for she plays an ambitious character; she commences at
the top instead of at the bottom of the ladder. I should have liked
her to begin a little lower down, or to have appeared in the provinces
first. There's one great thing in her favour, though. She plays in a
new piece, and can't be compared to other and more experienced
actresses in the same character. There's somebody you know.'
He referred to Mr. Glover, whom I had seen before he had, and who,
standing at the side wings, appeared to be on familiar terms with all
the company; but I knew the lodestone which had drawn him there. When
I first caught sight of him Jessie was engaged in a scene; presently
she was free for a time, and then he approached her, and they talked
together.
'Mac,' I said, in a whisper, 'I think you are a friend of mine.'
'I am proud to hear you say so, my son. I _am_ your friend.'
'What does that mean?' And I pointed to Jessie and Mr. Glover.
He looked at my agitated face, and then at the two persons I was
interested in; but he did not answer me.
'Why don't you speak, Mac? Why don't you answer me?'
'Because I don't quite understand you, my son.'
'When a person in Mr. Glover's position,' I said, 'pays attention to
an actress commencing the world as Jessie is, what does it mean?'
'Speak a little lower, my son. It means that he is interested in her.
There's nothing unusual in that.'
'But it _may_ mean something more; it may mean that he is fond of
her.'
'It may; and there would be nothing unusual in that. But it does not
follow that she is fond of him. Beware of the green-eyed monster, my
son. Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend from jealousy!
Take a lesson from an old stager.' (But what the lesson was he did not
state.) 'Why don't you ask Turk about it?'
'I have my reasons; I would rather Turk should not know anything of
this.'
'Well, I'll find out for you, quietly between ourselves. Old Mac knows
the signs. He has seen a few things, old Mac has. Only don't you run
away with the idea that there's anything wrong in a gentleman speaking
to an actress. I daresay it's through him that my fair friend has got
this chance. Well, why shouldn't she speak to him, then? I know what
you feel, my son. I've felt the same myself, and wouldn't mind feeling
so again. It comes in the regular course of things.'
I went outside the theatre with him, and made an excuse to get rid of
him. Then I waited, in the hope of seeing Jessie; and bearing in mind
Jessie's words, 'If we meet again it must be at my own time, and in my
own way,' I resolved not to show myself to her. She came out in the
course of half an hour, accompanied by Mr. Glover. I walked behind
them at some distance on the opposite side of the road, making many
shifts and pretences of looking in shop-windows, so that they should
not see me. But Mr. Glover, happening to turn his head in my
direction, caught sight of me. I saw the flash of recognition in his
eyes. He must have uttered an exclamation, for Jessie turned, and also
saw me. I hesitated for one moment; should I retrace my steps, or walk
boldly on? Jessie decided the question for me, by running towards me.
Her face was scarlet, but that might have been caused by her running
too quickly, for her breath came fast.
'O Chris!' she cried, in the first excitement of the moment. 'How glad
I am to see you! What brings you this way?'
She held out her hand eagerly, and I took it, and would have retained
it, but that the appearance of Mr. Glover, who paused quite close to
us, caused me to relinquish it.
'What brings him this way?' echoed Mr. Glover. Not accident, I'll be
bound.'
'I came on purpose to see you, Jessie,' I said; 'I heard through a
friend that you were rehearsing this morning, and I gained admission
to the dress circle, and sat there for some time.'
'Was it Turk who told you?' she asked.
'No, not Turk. I think he would not tell me anything that you did not
wish me to know.'
It was not without intention that I let this arrow fly. Jessie made no
comment upon it, but said:
'And then you waited outside to see me, Chris?'
'Yes; I had no other purpose. But I did not intend that you should see
me.'
No? But we'll not quarrel now that we _have_ met. How is mother,
Chris?'
'She is well, Jessie. You know that we were very nearly losing her.'
'I know; and you took her into the country, and nursed her.'
'Thank God, she is well now.'
If Mr. Glover had not been present, I should have spoken in a very
different manner, but I could not show my heart while he stood by,
with a look of cold contempt in his eyes.
'And you?--you are looking thinner, I think, Chris; but you are well
and happy.'
'Yes,' I answered mechanically, 'I am well and happy, Jessie.'
Although I strove to speak in an indifferent tone, it must have
miserably belied my words.
'And you are getting along famously,' continued Jessie hurriedly; I
read your name in the papers, and it made me very proud.'
'We shall read your name in the papers soon, Jessie.'
'I suppose so; if I have strength and courage to go through with it. I
hope you will not come on the first night, Chris.'
I was silent, and she was generous enough not to exact the promise.
'At all events, then, if you do come I shall have one friend there,'
she said.
'Not more than one, Jessie?' asked Mr. Glover, in a tone which made my
heart throb violently.
Jessie, looking first at me and then at Mr. Glover, said that she must
wish us good-morning, and with her parasol hailed an omnibus that was
passing.
'Good-bye, Chris. Will you give my love to mother?'
'Yes, Jessie.'
She drew me aside, out of the hearing of Mr. Glover, and whispered,
'Don't quarrel with him, Chris.'
'I will not, Jessie. One moment. Are you happy?'
She cast a swift glance at me, and then turned her eyes to the ground.
'I think so, Chris; I am not sure.' With this singular answer, she
pressed my hand, and left me. I watched her get into the omnibus, and
when it was out of sight I turned homewards, without noticing Mr.
Glover. But he was at my heels, speaking to me.
'How did you gain admission into the theatre, young man?' he said.
'Did you sneak in, or did you tell the doorkeeper a lie?'
'That is my business,' I replied calmly; for I was determined to keep
my promise to Jessie.
'Especially your business, I should say--sneaking and lying. But
unless you wish to find yourself in an unpleasant position, I should
advise you not to make the attempt again. For Jessie's sake, who might
not like to hear of your getting into trouble, I will look over the
trespass this once.'
'_You_ will overlook it!' I retorted, without any outward exhibition
of anger. 'Is the theatre yours, then?'
'In your own words, that is my business. But I have authority there,
believe me; so you must be careful. I should, if I were you, give over
the spying business; you will gain nothing by it. Perhaps, however,
you have not the manliness to see that the young lady has chosen for
herself, and that, as she has removed herself from you and your common
surroundings, there is distinct cowardice in your thrusting yourself
upon her. Only a gentleman can entertain these proper sentiments----'
'Such a gentleman as yourself,' I interrupted.
'Yes, such a gentleman as I,' he said, with a frown; and not only
that, but one who knows how to resent impertinence and blackguardly
interference.'
I left him suddenly; if I had not done so he would have fastened a
quarrel upon me. I saw clearly that this was his desire; but I
disappointed him.