That night at the theatre and in the box--the miracle had been wrought,
the treasure found--Nick Dormer pointed out to his two companions the
stall he had relinquished, which was close in front; noting how oddly it
remained during the whole of the first act vacant. The house was beyond
everything, the actress beyond any one; though to describe again so
famous an occasion--it has been described repeatedly by other
reporters--is not in the compass of the closing words of a history
already too sustained. It is enough to say that these great hours marked
an era in contemporary art and that for those who had a spectator's
share in them the words "revelation," "incarnation," "acclamation,"
"demonstration," "ovation"--to name only a few, and all accompanied by
the word "extraordinary"--acquired a new force. Miriam's Juliet was an
exquisite image of young passion and young despair, expressed in the
truest, divinest music that had ever poured from tragic lips. The great
childish audience, gaping at her points, expanded there before her like
a lap to catch flowers.
During the first interval our three friends in the box had plenty to
talk about, and they were so occupied with it that for some time they
failed to observe a gentleman who had at last come into the empty stall
near the front. This discovery was presently formulated by Miss
Tressilian in the cheerful exclamation: "Only fancy--there's Mr.
Sherringham!" This of course immediately became a high wonder--a wonder
for Nick and Biddy, who had not heard of his return; and the prodigy was
quickened by the fact that he gave no sign of looking for them or even
at them. Having taken possession of his place he sat very still in it,
staring straight before him at the curtain. His abrupt reappearance held
the seeds of anxiety both for Biddy and for Nick, so that it was mainly
Miss Tressilian who had freedom of mind to throw off the theory that he
had come back that very hour--had arrived from a long journey. Couldn't
they see how strange he was and how brown, how burnt and how red, how
tired and how worn? They all inspected him, though Biddy declined Miss
Tressilian's glass; but he was evidently indifferent to notice and
finally Biddy, leaning back in her chair, dropped the fantastic words:
"He has come home to marry Juliet!"
Nick glanced at her and then replied: "What a disaster--to make such a
journey as that and to be late for the fair!"
"Late for the fair?"
"Why she's married--these three days. They did it very quietly; Miriam
says because her mother hated it and hopes it won't be much known! All
the same she's Basil Dashwood's wedded wife--he has come in just in time
to take the receipts for Juliet. It's a good thing, no doubt, for there
are at least two fortunes to be made out of her, and he'll give up the
stage." Nick explained to Miss Tressilian, who had inquired, that the
gentleman in question was the actor who was playing Mercutio, and he
asked Biddy if she hadn't known that this was what they were telling him
in Rosedale Road that morning. She replied that she had understood
nothing but that she was to be where she was, and she sank considerably
behind the drapery of the box. From this cover she was able to launch,
creditably enough, the exclamation:
"Poor, poor Peter!"
Nick got up and stood looking at poor, poor Peter. "He ought to come
round and speak to us, but if he doesn't see us I suppose he doesn't."
He quitted the box as to go to the restored exile, and I may add that as
soon as he had done so Florence Tressilian bounded over to the dusk in
which Biddy had nestled. What passed immediately between these young
ladies needn't concern us: it is sufficient to mention that two minutes
later Miss Tressilian broke out:
"Look at him, dearest; he's turning his head this way!"
"Thank you, I don't care to watch his turns," said Biddy; and she
doubtless demeaned herself in the high spirit of these words. It
nevertheless happened that directly afterwards she had certain knowledge
of his having glanced at his watch as if to judge how soon the curtain
would rise again, as well as of his having then jumped up and passed
quickly out of his place. The curtain had risen again without his
reappearing and without Nick's returning. Indeed by the time Nick
slipped in a good deal of the third act was over; and even then, even
when the curtain descended, Peter had not come back. Nick sat down in
silence to watch the stage, to which the breathless attention of his
companions seemed attached, though Biddy after a moment threw round at
him a single quick look. At the end of the act they were all occupied
with the recalls, the applause and the responsive loveliness of Juliet
as she was led out--Mercutio had to give her up to Romeo--and even for a
few minutes after the deafening roar had subsided nothing was said among
the three. At last Nick began:
"It's quite true he has just arrived; he's in Great Stanhope Street.
They've given him several weeks, to make up for the uncomfortable way
they bundled him off--to get there in time for some special business
that had suddenly to be gone into--when he first went out: he tells me
they even then promised that. He got into Southampton only a few hours
ago, rushed up by the first train he could catch and came off here
without any dinner."
"Fancy!" said Miss Tressilian; while Biddy more generally asked if Peter
might be in good health and appeared to have been happy. Nick replied
that he described his post as beastly but didn't seem to have suffered
from it. He was to be in England probably a month, he was awfully brown,
he sent his love to Biddy. Miss Tressilian looked at his empty stall and
was of the opinion that it would be more to the point if he were to come
in to see her.
"Oh he'll turn up; we had a goodish talk in the lobby where he met me. I
think he went out somewhere."
"How odd to come so many thousand miles for this and then not to stay!"
Biddy fluted.
"Did he come on purpose for this?" Miss Tressilian asked.
"Perhaps he's gone out to get his dinner!" joked Biddy.
Her friend suggested that he might be behind the scenes, but Nick cast
doubts; whereupon Biddy asked if he himself were not going round. At
this moment the curtain rose; Nick said he would go in the next
interval. As soon as it came he quitted the box, remaining absent while
it lasted.
All this time, in the house, there was no sign of Peter. Nick reappeared
only as the fourth act was beginning and uttered no word to his
companions till it was over. Then, after a further delay produced by
renewed vociferous proofs of the personal victory won, he depicted his
visit to the stage and the wonderful sight of Miriam on the field of
battle. Miss Tressilian inquired if he had found Mr. Sherringham with
her; to which he replied that, save across the footlights, she had not
been in touch with him. At this a soft exclamation broke from Biddy.
"Poor Peter! Where is he, then?"