_We Meet a Play-actress There._
It was Philip's custom, at this time, to attend first nights at the
playhouses, as well from a love of the theatre as from the possibility
that he might thus come upon Captain Falconer. He always desired my
company, which I was the readier to grant for that I should recognise
the captain in any assemblage, and could point him out to Phil, who
had never seen him. We took my mother and Fanny excepting when they
preferred to stay at home, which was the case on a certain evening in
this Spring of 1786, when we went to Drury Lane to witness the
reappearance of a Miss Warren who had been practising her art the
previous three years in the provinces. This long absence from London
had begun before my mother and I arrived there, and consequently
Philip and I had that evening the pleasurable anticipation of seeing
upon the stage a much-praised face that was quite new to us.
[Illustration: "IT WAS PHILIP'S CUSTOM, AT THIS TIME, TO ATTEND FIRST
NIGHTS AT THE PLAYHOUSES."]
There was the usual noisy throng of coaches, chairs, people afoot,
lackeys, chair-men, boys, and such, in front of the playhouse when we
arrived, and though we scanned all faces on whom the light fell, we
had our wonted disappointment regarding that of Captain Falconer. We
made our way to the pit, and passed the time till the bell and the
chorus "Hats off!" signalled the rising of the green curtain, in
watching the chattering assemblage that was every moment swelled from
the doors; but neither among the lace-ruffled bucks and macaronis who
chaffed with the painted and powdered ladies in the boxes, nor among
those dashing gentry who ogled the same towering-haired ladies from
the benches around us in the pit, did I perceive the elegant and easy
captain. We therefore fell back upon the pleasure to be expected from
the play itself, and when the curtain rose, I, for one, was resigned
to the absence of him we had come partly in quest of.
No sooner had Miss Warren come upon the stage, in her favourite part
of Fanny in "The Clandestine Marriage," revived for the occasion, than
I knew her as Madge Faringfield. I bent forward, with staring eyes and
gaping mouth; if I uttered any exclamation it was drowned in the sound
of the hand-clapping that greeted her. While she curtseyed and
pleasantly smiled, in response to this welcome, I turned abruptly to
Phil, my eyes betokening my recognition. He nodded, without a word or
any other movement, and continued to look at her, his face wearing a
half-smiling expression of gentle gladness.
I knew, from my old acquaintance with him, that he was under so great
emotion that he dared not speak. It was, indeed, a cessation of secret
anxiety to him, a joy such as only a constant lover can understand, to
know that she was alive, well, with means of livelihood, and beautiful
as ever. Though she was now thirty-one, she looked, on the stage, not
a day older than upon that sad night when he had thrown her from him,
six years and more before--nay, than upon that day well-nigh eleven
years before, when he had bade her farewell to go upon his first
campaign. She was still as slender, still had the same girlish air and
manner.
Till the curtain fell upon the act, we sat without audible remark,
delighting our eyes with her looks, our ears with her voice, our
hearts (and paining them at the same time) with the memories her every
movement, every accent, called up.
"How shall we see her?" were Phil's first words at the end of the act.
"We may be allowed to send our names, and see her in the greenroom,"
said I. "Or perhaps you know somebody who can take us there without
any preliminaries."
"Nay," returned Philip, after a moment's thought, "there will be other
people there. I shouldn't like strangers to see--you understand. We
shall wait till the play is over, and then go to the door where the
players come out. 'Twill take her some time to dress for going
home--we can't miss her that way."
I sympathised with his feelings against making their meeting a scene
for the amusement of frivolous lookers-on, and we waited patiently
enough. Neither of us could have told, when the play was over, what
was the story it presented. Even Madge's speeches we heard with less
sense of their meaning than emotion at the sound of her voice. If this
was the case with me, how much more so, as I could see by side-glances
at his face, was it with Philip! Between the acts, we had little use
for conversation. One of our thoughts, though neither uttered it, was
that, despite the reputation that play-actresses generally bore, a
woman _could_ live virtuously by the profession, and in it, and that
several women since the famous Mrs. Bracegirdle were allowed to have
done so. 'Twas only necessary to look at our Madge, to turn the
possibility in her case into certainty.
When at last the play was ended, we forced our way through the
departing crowd so as to arrive almost with the first upon the scene
of waiting footmen, shouting drivers, turbulent chair-men, clamorous
boys with dim lanterns or flaming torches, and such attendants upon
the nightly emptying of a playhouse. Through this crush we fought our
way, hastened around into a darker street, comparatively quiet and
deserted, and found a door with a feeble lamp over it, which, as a
surly old fellow within told us, served as stage entrance to the
theatre. We crossed the dirty street, and took up our station in the
shadow opposite the door; whence a few actors not required in the
final scene, or not having to make much alteration of attire for the
street, were already emerging, bent first, I suppose, for one or other
of the many taverns or coffee-houses about Covent Garden near at hand.
While we were waiting, two chair-men came with their vehicle and set
it down at one side of the door, and a few boys and women gathered in
the hope of obtaining sixpence by some service of which a player might
perchance be in need on issuing forth. And presently a coach appeared
at the corner of the street, and stopped there, whereupon a gentleman
got out of it, gave the driver and footman some commands, and while
the conveyance remained where it was, approached alone, at a blithe
gait, and took post near us, though more in the light shed by the lamp
over the stage door.
"Gad's life!" I exclaimed, in a whisper.
"What is it?" asked Phil, in a similar voice.
"Falconer!" I replied, ere I had thought.
Philip gazed at the newcomer, who was heedless of our presence. Phil
seemed about to stride forward to him, but reconsidered, and whispered
to me, in a strange tone:
"What can he be doing here, where _she_--? You are sure that's the
man?"
"Yes--but not now--'tis not the place--we came for another purpose--"
"I know--but if I lose him!"
"No fear of that. I'll keep track of him--learn where he's to be
found--while you meet her."
"But if he--if she--"
"Wait and see. His being here, may not in any way concern her. Mere
coincidence, no doubt."
"I hope to God it is!" whispered Phil, though his voice quivered.
"Nay, I'll believe it is, too, till I see otherwise."
"Good! And when I learn his haunts, as I shall before I sleep, you may
find him at any time."
And so we continued to wait, keeping in the darkness, so that the
captain, even if he had deigned to be curious, could not have made out
our faces from where he stood. Philip watched him keenly, to stamp his
features upon memory, as well as they could be observed in the yellow
light of the sickly lamp; but yet, every few moments Phil cast an
eager glance at the door. I grant I was less confident that Falconer's
presence was mere coincidence, than I had appeared, and I was in a
tremble of apprehension for what Madge's coming might reveal.
The captain, who was very finely dressed, and, like us, carried a cane
but no sword, allowed impatience to show upon his usually serene
countenance: evidently he was unused to waiting in such a place, and I
wondered why he did not make free of the greenroom instead of doing
so. But he composed himself to patience as with a long breath, and
fell to humming softly a gay French air the while he stood leaning
motionlessly, in an odd but graceful attitude, upon his slender cane.
Sometimes he glanced back toward the waiting coach, and then, without
change of position as to his body, returned his gaze to the door.
Two or three false alarms were occasioned him, and us, by the coming
forth of ladies who proved, as soon as the light struck them, to be
other than the person we awaited. But at last she appeared, looking
her years and cares a little more than upon the stage, but still
beautiful and girlish. She was followed by a young waiting-woman; but
before we had time to note this, or to step out of the shadow, we saw
Captain Falconer bound across the way, seize her hand, and bend very
gallantly to kiss it.
So, then, it was for her he had waited: such was the bitter thought of
Phil and me; and how our hearts sickened at it, may be imagined when I
say that his hope and mine, though unexpressed, had been to find her
penitent and hence worthy of all forgiveness, in which case she would
not have renewed even acquaintance with this captain. And there he
was, kissing her hand!
But ere either of us could put our thought into speech, our sunken
hearts were suddenly revived, by Madge's conduct.
She drew her hand instantly away, and as soon as she saw who it was
that had seized it, she took on a look of extreme annoyance and anger,
and would have hastened past him, but that he stood right in her way.
"You again!" she said. "Has my absence been for nothing, then?"
"Had you stayed from London twice three years, you would have found me
the same, madam," he replied.
"Then I must leave London again, that's all," said she.
"It shall be with me, then," said he. "My coach is waiting yonder."
"And my chair is waiting here," said she, snatching an opportunity to
pass him and to step into the sedan, of which the door was invitingly
open. It was not her chair, but one that stood in solicitation of some
passenger from the stage door; as was now shown by one of the
chair-men asking her for directions. She bade her maid hire a boy with
a light, and lead the way afoot; and told the chair-men to follow the
maid. The chair door being then closed, and the men lifting their
burden, her orders were carried out.
Neither Philip nor I had yet thought it opportune to appear from our
concealment, and now he whispered that, for the avoidance of a scene
before spectators, it would be best for him to follow the chair, and
accost her at her own door. I should watch Falconer to his abode, and
each of us should eventually go home independently of the other. Our
relief to find that the English captain's presence was against Madge's
will, needed no verbal expression; it was sufficiently manifest
otherwise.
Before Philip moved out to take his place behind the little
procession, Falconer, after a moment's thought, walked rapidly past to
his coach, and giving the driver and footman brief orders, stepped
into it. 'Twas now time for both Phil and me to be in motion, and we
went down the way together. The chair passed the coach, which
immediately fell in behind it, the horses proceeding at a walk.
"He intends to follow her," said I.
"Then we shall follow both," said Phil, "and await events. 'Tis no use
forcing a scene in this neighbourhood."
So Philip's quest and mine lay together, and we proceeded along the
footway, a little to the rear of the coach, which in turn was a little
to the rear of the chair. Passing the side of Drury Lane Theatre, the
procession soon turned into Bow Street, and leaving Covent Garden
Theatre behind, presently resumed a Southwestward course, deflecting
at St. Martin's Lane so as to come at last into Gerrard Street, and
turning thence Northward into Dean Street. Here the maid led the
chair-men along the West side of the way; but Philip and I kept the
East side. At last the girl stopped before a door with a pillared
porch, and the carriers set down the chair.
Instantly Captain Falconer's footman leaped from the box of the coach,
and, while the maid was at the chair door to help her mistress, dashed
into the porch and stood so as to prevent any one's reaching the door
of the house. The captain himself, springing out of the coach, was
at Madge's side as soon as she had emerged from the chair. Philip
and I, gliding unseen across the street, saw him hand something to
the front chair-man which made that rascal open his mouth in
astonishnent--'twas, no doubt, a gold piece or two--and heard him
say:
"You and your fellow, begone, and divide that among you. Quick!
Vanish!"
The men obeyed with alacrity, bearing their empty chair past Phil and
me toward Gerrard Street at a run. The captain, by similar means, sent
the boy with the light scampering off in the opposite direction.
Meanwhile, Philip and I having stopped behind a pillar of the next
porch for a moment's consultation, Madge was bidding the footman stand
aside from before her door. This we could see by the rays of a street
lamp, which were at that place sufficient to make a carried light not
absolutely necessary.
"Come into the coach, madam," said Falconer, seizing one of her hands.
"You remember my promise. I swear I shall keep it though I hang for
it! Don't make a disturbance and compel me to use force, I beg. You
see, the street is deserted."
"You scoundrel!" she answered. "If you really think you can carry me
off, you're much--"
"Nay," he broke in, "actresses _are_ carried off, and not always for
the sake of being talked about, neither! Fetch the maid, Richard--I
wouldn't deprive a lady of her proper attendance. Pray pardon
this--you put me to it, madam!"
With which, he grasped her around the waist, lifted her as if she were
a child, and started with her toward the coach. The footman, a huge
fellow, adopted similar measures with the waiting-woman, who set up a
shrill screaming that made needless any cries on Madge's part.
Philip and I dashed forward at this, and while I fell upon the
footman, Phil staggered the captain with a blow. As Falconer turned
with an exclamation, to see by whom he was attacked, Madge tore
herself from his relaxed hold, ran to the house door, and set the
knocker going at its loudest. A second blow from Philip sent the
captain reeling against his coach wheel. I, meanwhile, had drawn the
footman from the maid; who now joined her mistress and continued
shrieking at the top of her voice. The fellow, seeing his master
momentarily in a daze, and being alarmed by the knocking and
screaming, was put at a loss. The house door opening, and the noise
bringing people to their windows, and gentlemen rushing out of Jack's
tavern hard by, Master Richard recovered from his irresolution, ran
and forced his master into the coach, got in after him to keep him
there, and shouted to the coachman to drive off.
"Very well, madam," cried Falconer through the coach door, before it
closed with a bang, "but I'll keep my word yet, I promise you!"
Whereupon, the coach rolled away behind galloping horses.
Forgetting, in the moment's excitement, my intention of dogging the
captain to his residence, I accompanied Philip to the doorway, where
stood Madge with her maid and a house servant. She was waiting to
thank her protectors, whom, in the rush and partial darkness, she had
not yet recognised. It was, indeed, far from her thoughts that we two,
whom she had left so many years before in America, should turn up at
her side in London at such a moment.
We took off our hats, and bowed. Her face had already formed a smile
of thanks, when we raised our heads into the light from a candle the
house servant carried. Madge gave a little startled cry of joy, and
looked from one to the other of us to make sure she was not under a
delusion: then fondly murmuring Phil's name and mine in what faint
voice was left her, she made first as if she would fall into his arms;
but recollecting with a look of pain how matters stood between them,
she drew back, steadied herself against the door-post, and dropped her
eyes from his.
"We should like to talk with you a little, my dear," said Phil gently.
"May we come in?"
There was a gleam of new-lighted hope in her eyes as she looked up and
answered tremulously:
"'Twill be a happiness--more than I dared expect."
We followed the servant with the candle up-stairs to a small
drawing-room, in which a table was set with bread, cheese, cold beef,
and a bottle of claret.
"'Tis my supper," said Madge. "If I had known I should have such
guests--you will do me the honour, will you not?"
Her manner was so tentative and humble, so much that of one who scarce
feels a right even to plead, so different from that of the old petted
and radiant Madge, that 'twould have taken a harder man than Philip to
decline. And so, when the servant had placed additional chairs, down
we sat to supper with Miss Warren, of Drury Lane Theatre, who had sent
her maid to answer the inquiries of the alarmed house concerning the
recent tumult in the street.