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[Going out, blind with mirth.] Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho!
[He collides with Mrs. Telfer, who is entering at this moment. Mrs. Telfer is a tall, massive lady of middle age—a faded queen of tragedy.]
[As he disappears.] I'm sure I beg your pardon, Mrs. Telfer, ma'am.
Violent fellow! [Advancing to Imogen and kissing her solemnly.] How is it with you, Jenny Parrott?
Thank you, Mrs. Telfer, as well as can be. And you?
[Waving away the inquiry.] I am obliged to you for this response to my invitation, It struck me as fitting that at such a time you should return for a brief hour or two to the company of your old associates—— [Becoming conscious of Colpoys, behind her, making grimaces at Imogen.] Eh—h—h?
[Turning to Colpoys and surprising him.] Oh—h—h! Yes, Augustus Colpoys, you are extremely humorous off.
[Stung.] Miss Sylvester—Mrs. Telfer!
On the stage, sir, you are enough to make a cat weep.
Madam! from one artist to another! well, I—! 'pon my soul! [Retreating and talking under his breath.] Popular favorite! draw more money than all the—old guys——
[Following him.] What do you say, sir! Do you mutter!
[They explain mutually. Avonia Bunn enters—an untidy, tawdrily-dressed young woman of about three-and-twenty, with the airs of a suburban soubrette.]
[Embracing Imogen.] Dear old girl!
Well, Avonia?
This is jolly, seeing you again. My eye, what a rig-out! She'll be up directly. [With a gulp.]She's taking a last look-round at our room.
You've been crying, 'Vonia.
No, I haven't. [Breaking down.] If I have I can't help it. Rose and I have chummed together—all this season—and part of last—and—it's a hateful profession! The moment you make a friend—————!
[Looking toward the door.] There! isn't she a dream? I dressed her——
[She moves away, as Rose Trelawny and Arthur Gower enter. Rose is nineteen, wears washed muslin, and looks divine. She has much of the extravagance of gesture, over-emphasis in speech, and freedom of manner engendered by the theatre, but is graceful and charming nevertheless. Arthur is a handsome, boyish young man—"all eyes" for Rose.]
[Meeting Imogen.] Dear Imogen!
[Kissing her.] Rose, dear!
To think of your journeying from the West to see me make my exit from Brydon Crescent! But you're a good sort; you always were. Do sit down and tell me—oh—! let me introduce Mr. Gower. Mr. Arthur Gower—Miss Imogen Parrott.TheMiss Parrott of the Olympic.
[Reverentially.] I know. I've seen Miss Parrott as Jupiter, and as—I forget the name—in the new comedy——-[Imogen and Rose sit below the table.]
He forgets everything but the partsIplay, and the piecesIplay in—poor child! don't you, Arthur?
[Standing by Rose, looking down upon her.] Yes—no. Well, of course I do! How can I help it, Miss Parrott? Miss Parrott won't think the worse of me for that—will you, Miss Parrott?
I am going to remove my bonnet. Imogen Parrott—!
Thank you, I'll keep my hat on, Mrs. Telfer—take care!
[Mrs. Telfer, in turning to go, encounters Ablett, who is entering with two jugs of beer. Some of the beer is spilt.]
I beg your pardon, ma'am.
[Examining her skirts.] Ruffian! [She departs.]
[To Arthur.] Go and talk to the boys. I haven't seen Miss Parrott for ages.
[In backing away from them, Arthur comes against Ablett.]
I beg your pardon, sir.
I beg yours.
[Grasping Arthur's hand.] Excuse the freedom, sir, if freedom you regard it as——
Eh——-?
You 'ave plucked the flower, sir; you 'ave stole our ch'icest blossom.
[Trying to get away.] Yes, yes, I know——
Cherish it, Mr. Glover——!
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I will, I will. Thank you——
[Mrs. Mossop's voice is heard calling "Ablett!" Ablett releases Arthur and goes out. Arthur joins Colpoys and Tom.]
[To Imogen.] The carriage will be here in half an hour. I've so much to say to you. Imogen, the brilliant hits you've made! how lucky you have been!
Myluck! what aboutyours?
Yes, isn't this a wonderful stroke of fortune for me! Fate, Jenny! that's what it is—Fate! Fate ordains that I shall be a well-to-do fashionable lady, instead of a popular but toiling actress. Mother often used to stare into my face, when I was little, and whisper, "Rosie, I wonder what is to be your—fate." Poor mother! I hope she sees.
Your Arthur seems nice.
Oh, he's a dear. Very young, of course—not much more than a year older than me—than I. But he'll grow manly in time, and have mustaches, and whiskers out to here, he says.
How did you——?
He saw me act Blanche in theThe Peddler of Marseilles,and fell in love.
Do you prefer Blanche——?
To Celestine? Oh, yes. You see, I got leave to introduce a song—where Blanche is waiting for Raphael on the bridge. [Singing, dramatically but in low tones.] "Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming——"
I know—
[They sing together.]
"Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer."
It was singing that song that sealed my destiny, Arthur declares. At any rate, the next thing was he began sending bouquets and coming to the stage-door. Of course, I never spoke to him, never glanced at him. Poor mother brought me up in that way, not to speak to anybody, nor look.
Quite right.
I do hope she sees.
And then?
Then Arthur managed to get acquainted with the Telfers, and Mrs. Telfer presented him to me. Mrs. Telfer has kept an eye on me all through. Not that it was necessary, brought up as I was—but she's a kind old soul.
And now you're going to live with his people for a time, aren't you?
Yes—on approval.
Ha, ha, ha I you don't mean that!
Well, in a way—just to reassure them, as they put it. The Gowers have such odd ideas about theatres, and actors and actresses.
Do you think you'll like the arrangement?
It 'll only be for a little while. I fancy they're prepared to take to me, especially Miss Trafalgar Gower——
Trafalgar!
Sir William's sister; she was born Trafalgar year, and christened after it—
[Mrs. Mossop and Ablett enter, carrying trays on which are a pile of plates and various dishes of Cold food—a joint, a chicken and a tongue, a ham, a pigeon pie, etc. They proceed to set out the dishes upon the table.]
[Cheerfully.] Well, God bless you, my dear. I'm afraid I couldn't give up the stage though, not for all the Arthurs——
Ah, your mother wasn't an actress.
No.
Mine was, and I remember her saying to me once, "Rose, if ever you have the chance, get out of it."
The Profession?
Yes. "Get out of it," mother said; "if ever a good man comes along, and offers to marry you and to take you off the stage, seize the chance—get out of it."
Your mother was never popular, was she?
Yes, indeed she was, most popular—till she grew oldish and lost her looks.
Oh,that'swhat she meant, then?
Yes, that's what she meant.
[Shivering.] Oh, lor', doesn't it make one feel depressed.
Poor mother!
Well, I hope she sees.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, everything is prepared, and I do trust to your pleasure and satisfaction.
Ladies and gentlemen, I beg you to be seated, [There is a general movement.] Miss Trelawny will sit 'ere, on my right. On my left, my friend Mr. Glower will sit. Next to Miss Trelawny—who will sit beside Miss Trelawny?
I will.
No, do let me!
[Gadd, Colpoys, and Avonia gather round Rose and wrangle for the vacant place.]
[Standing by her chair.] It must be a gentleman, 'Vonia. Now, if you two boys quarrel—-!
Please don't push me, Colpoys!
'Pon my soul, Gadd——!
I know how to settle it. Tom Wrench———!
[Coming to her.] Yes?
[Colpoys and Gadd move away, arguing.]
[Seating herself.] Mr. Gadd and Mr. Colpoys shall sit by me, one on each side.
[Colpoys sits on Imogen's right, Gadd on her left, Avonia sits between Tom and Gadd; Mrs. Mossop on the right of Colpoys. Amid much chatter, the viands are carved by Mrs. Mossop, Telfer, and Tom. Some plates of chicken, etc., are handed round by Ablett, while others are passed about by those at the table.]
[Quietly to Imogen, during a pause in the hubbub.] Telfer takes the chair, you observe. Whyhe—more than myself, for instance?
[To Gadd.] The Telfers have lent their room——
Their stuffy room I that's no excuse. I repeat, Telfer has thrust himself into this position.
He's the oldest man present.
True. And he begins to age in his acting too. His H's! scarce as pearls!
Yes, that's shocking. Now, at the Olympic, slip an H and you're damned for ever.
And he's losing all his teeth. To act with him, it makes the house seem half empty.
[Ablett is now going about pouring out the ale. Occasionally he drops his glove, misses it, and recovers it.]
[To Imogen.] Miss Parrott, my dear, follow the counsel of one who has sat at many a "good man's feast"—have a little 'am.
Thanks, Mr. Telfer. [Mrs. Telfer returns.]
Sitting down to table in my absence! [To Telfer.] How is this, James?
We are pressed for time, Violet, my love.
Very sorry, Mrs. Telfer.
[Taking her place, between Arthur and Mrs. Mossop—gloomily.] A strange proceeding.
Rehearsal was over so late. [To Telfer.] You didn't get to the last act till a quarter to one, did you?
[Taking off her hat and flinging it across the table to Colpoys.] Gus! catch! Put it on the sofa, there's a dear boy. [Colpoys perches the hat upon his head, and behaves in a ridiculous, mincing way. Ablett is again convulsed with laughter. Some of the others are amused also, but more moderately.] Take that off, Gus! Mr. Colpoys, you just take my hat off! [Colpoys rises, imitating the manners of a woman, and deposits the hat on the sofa.]
Ho, ho, ho! oh, don't Mr. Colpoys! oh, don't, sir!
[Colpoys returns to the table.]
[Quietly to Imogen.] It makes me sick to watch Colpoys in private life. He'd stand on his head in the street, if he could get a ragged infant to laugh at him. [Picking the leg of a fowl furiously.] What I say is this. Why can't an actor, in private life, be simply a gentleman? [Loudly and haughtily.] More tongue here!
[Hurrying to him.] Yessir, certainly, sir. [Again discomposed by some antic on the part of Colpoys.] Oh, don't, Mr. Colpoys! [Going to Telfer with Gadd's plate—speaking while Telfer carves a slice of tongue.] I shan't easily forget this afternoon, Mr. Telfer. [Exhausted.] This 'll be something to tell Mrs. Ablett. Ho, ho! oh, dear, oh, dear!
[Ablett, averting his face from Colpoys, brings back Gadd's plate. By an unfortunate chance, Ablett's glove has found its way to the plate and is handed to Gadd by Ablett.]
[Picking up the glove in disgust.] Merciful powers! what's this!
[Taking the glove.] I beg your pardon, sir—my error, entirely.
[A firm rat-tat-tat at the front door is heard. There is a general exclamation. At the same moment Sarah, a diminutive servant in a crinoline, appears in the doorway.]
[Breathlessly.] The kerridge has just drove up! [Imogen, Gadd, Colpoys, and Avonia go to the windows, open them, and look out. Mrs. Mossop hurries away, pushing Sarah before her.]
Dear me, dear me! before a single speech has been made.
[At the window.] Rose, do look!
[At the other window.] Come here, Rose!
[Shaking her head.] Ha, ha! I'm in no hurry; I shall see it often enough. [Turning to Tom.] Well, the time has arrived. [Laying down her knife and fork.] Oh, I'm so sorry, now.
[Brusquely.] Are you? I'm glad.
Glad! that is hateful of you, Tom Wrench!
[Looking at his watch.] The carriage is certainly two or three minutes before its time, Mr. Telfer.
Two or three——-! The speeches, my dear sir, the speeches! [Mrs. Mossop returns, panting.]
The footman, a nice-looking young man with hazel eyes, says the carriage and pair can wait for a little bit. They must be back by three, to take their lady into the Park——
[Rising.] Ahem! Resume your seats, I beg. Ladies and gentlemen——-
Wait, waitl we're not ready!
[Imogen, Gadd, Colpoys, and Avonia return to their places. Mrs. Mossop also sits again. Ablett stands by the door.]
[Producing a paper from his breast-pocket.] Ladies and gentlemen, I devoted some time this morning to the preparation of a list of toasts. I now 'old that list in my hand. The first toast——
[He pauses, to assume a pair of spectacles.]
[To Imogen.] He arranges the toast-list! he!
[To Gadd.] Hush!
The first toast that figures 'ere is, naturally, that of The Queen. [Laying his hand on Arthur's shoulder.] With my young friend's chariot at the door, his horses pawing restlessly and fretfully upon the stones, I am prevented from enlarging, from expatiating, upon the merits of this toast. Suffice it, both Mrs. Telfer and I have had the honor of acting before Her Majesty upon no less than two occasions.
[To Imogen.] Tsch, tsch, tsch! an old story!
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you—[to Colpoys]—the malt is with you, Mr. Colpoys.
[Handing the ale to Telfer.] Here you are, Telfer.
[Filling his glass.] I give you The Queen, coupling with that toast the name of Miss Violet Sylvester—Mrs. Telfer—formerly, as you are aware, of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. Miss Sylvester has so frequently and, if I may say so, so nobly impersonated the various queens of tragedy that I cannot but feel she is a fitting person to acknowledge our expression of loyalty. [Raising his glass.] The Queen I And Miss Violet Sylvester!
[All rise, except Mrs. Telfer, and drink the toast. After drinking Mrs. Mossop passes her tumbler to Ablett.]
The Queen! Miss Vi'lent Sylvester!
[He drinks and returns the glass to Mrs. Mossop. The company being reseated, Mrs. Telfer rises. Her reception is a polite one.]
[Heavily.] Ladies and gentlemen, I have played fourteen or fifteen queens in my time—-
Thirteen, my love, to be exact; I was calculating this morning.
Very well, I have played thirteen of 'em. And, as parts, they are not worth a tinker's oath. I thank you for the favor with which you have received me.
[She sits; the applause is heartier. During the demonstration Sarah appears in the doorway, with a kitchen chair.]
[To Sarah.] Wot's all this?
[To Ablett.] Is the speeches on?
H'on! yes, and you be h'off!
[She places the chair against the open door and sits, full of determination. At intervals Ablett vainly represents to her the impropriety of her proceeding.]
[Again rising.] Ladies and gentlemen. Bumpers, I charge ye! The toast I 'ad next intended to propose was Our Immortal Bard, Shakspere, and I had meant, myself, to 'ave offered a few remarks in response——
[To Imogen, bitterly.] Ha!
But with our friend's horses champing their bits, I am compelled—nay, forced—to postpone this toast to a later period of the day, and to give you now what we may justly designate the toast of the afternoon. Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to lose, to part with, one of our companions, a young comrade who came amongst us many months ago, who in fact joined the company of the "Wells" last February twelvemonth, after a considerable experience in the provinces of this great country.
Hear, hear!
[Tearfully.] Hear, hear! [With a sob.] I detested her at first.
Order!
Be quiet, 'Vonia!
Her late mother an actress, herself made familiar with the stage from childhood if not from infancy, Miss Rose Trelawny—for I will no longer conceal from you that it is to Miss Trelawny I refer——
[Loud applause.] Miss Trelawny is the stuff of which great actresses are made.
Hear, hear!
[Softly.] 'Ear, 'ear!
So much for the actress. Now for the young lady—nay, the woman, the gyirl. Rose is a good girl——
[Loud applause, to which Ablett and Sarah contribute largely. Avonia rises and impulsively embraces Rose. She is recalled to her seat by a general remonstrance.] A good girl——
[Clutching a knife.] Yes, and I should like to hear anybody, man or woman——!
She is a good girl, and will be long remembered by us as much for her private virtues as for the commanding authority of her genius. [More applause, during which there is a sharp altercation between Ablett and Sarah.] And now, what has happened to "the expectancy and Rose of the fair state"?
Good, Telfer! good!'
[To Imogen.] Tsch, tsch! forced! forced!
I will tell you—[impressively]—a man has crossed her path.
[In a low voice.] Shame!
[Turning to him.] Mr. Ablett!
A man—ah, but also a gentle-man. [Applause.] A gentleman of probity, a gentleman of honor, and a gentleman of wealth and station. That gentleman, with the modesty of youth,—for I may tell you at once that 'e is not an old man,—comes to us and asks us to give him this gyirl to wife. And, friends, we have done so. A few preliminaries 'ave, I believe, still to be concluded between Mr. Gower and his family, and then the bond will be signed, the compact entered upon, the mutual trust accepted. Riches this youthful pair will possess—but what is gold? May they be rich in each other's society, in each other's love! May they—I can wish them no greater joy—be as happy in their married life as my—my—as Miss Sylvester and I 'ave been in ours! [Raising his glass.] Miss Rose Trelawny—Mr. Arthur Gower! [The toast is drunk by the company, upstanding. Three cheers are called for by Colpoys, and given. Those who have risen then sit.] Miss Trelawny.
[Weeping.] No, no, Mr. Telfer.
[To Telfer, softly.] Let her be for a minute, James.
[Arthur rises and is well received.]
Ladies and gentlemen, I—I would I were endowed with Mr. Telfer's flow of—of—of splendid eloquence. But I am no orator, no speaker, and therefore cannot tell you how highly—how deeply I appreciate the—the compliment——
You deserve it, Mr. Glover!
Hush!
All I can say is that I regard Miss Trelawny in the light of a—a solemn charge, and I—I trust that, if ever I have the pleasure of—of meeting—any of you again, I shall be able to render a good—a—a—satisfactory—satisfactory—-
[In an audible whisper.] Account.
Account of the way—of the way—in which I—in which——- [Loud applause.] Before I bring these observations to a conclusion, let me assure you that it has been a great privilege to me to meet—to have been thrown with—a band of artists—whose talents—whose striking talents—whose talents——
[Kindly, behind his hand.] Sit down.
[Helplessly.] Whose talents not only interest and instruct the—the more refined residents of this district, but whose talents-
[Quietly to Colpoys.] Get him to sit down.
The fame of whose talents, I should say——
[Quietly to Mrs. Mossop.] He's to sit down. Tell Mother Telfer.
The fame of whose talents has spread to—to regions—-
[Quietly to Mrs. Telfer.] They say he's to sit down.
To—to quarters of the town—to quarters——
[To Arthur.] Sit down!
Eh?
You finished long ago. Sit down.
Thank you. I'm exceedingly sorry. Great Heavens, how wretchedly I've done it!
[He sits, burying his head in his hands. More applause.]
Rose. my child.
[Rose starts to her feet. The rest rise with her, and cheer again, and wave handkerchiefs. She goes from one to the other, round the table, embracing and kissing and crying over them all excitedly. Sarah is kissed, but upon Ablett is bestowed only a handshake, to his evident dissatisfaction. Imogen runs to the piano and strikes up the air of "Ever of Thee." When Rose gets back to the place she mounts her chair, with the aid of Tom and Telfer, and faces them with flashing eyes. They pull the flowers out of the vases and throw them at her.]
Mr. Telfer, Mrs. Telfer! My friends! Boys! Ladies and gentlemen! No, don't stop, Jenny! go on! [Singing, her arms stretched out to them.] "Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming, Thy gentle voice." You remember! the song I sang in The Peddler of Marseilles—which made Arthur fall in love with me! Well, I know I shall dream of you, of all of you, very often, as the song says. Don't believe [wiping away her tears], oh, don't believe that, because I shall have married a swell, you and the old "Wells"—the dear old "Wells"!——
[Cheers.]
You and the old "Wells" will have become nothing to me! No, many and many a night you will see me in the house, looking down at you from the Circle—me and my husband——
Yes, yes, certainly!
And if you send for me I'll come behind the curtain to you, and sit with you and talk of bygone times, these times that end to-day. And shall I tell you the moments which will be the happiest to me in my life, however happy I may be with Arthur? Why, whenever I find that I am recognized by people, and pointed out—people in the pit of a theatre, in the street, no matter where; and when I can fancy they're saying to each other, "Look! that was Miss Trelawny! you remember—Trelawny! Trelawny of the 'Wells!'"——
[They cry "Trelawny!" and "Trelawny of the 'Wells!'" and again "Trelawny!" wildly. Then there is the sound of a sharp rat-tat at the front door. Imogen leaves the piano and looks out of the window.]
[To somebody below.] What is it?
Miss Trelawny, ma'am. We can't wait.
[Weakly.] Oh, help me down——
[They assist her, and gather round her.]