CHAPTER VIII.

But I couldn't give myself up to Mr Tooks's guidance, for my destiny was now drawing near at the Stepney Star, and I had no spirits for anything else till that was decided. Once or twice Miss Claribel came, but her confidences were all to my mother. For several hours at a time they would retire to my mother's room, and both would reappear with their eyes rather red, as if they had been crying. Was Miss Claribel growing despondent? Was there no chance of accident or illness befalling the sempiternal Emily de la Rose? If she was indeed in low spirits, she took remarkably good care that I should bear her company. She was like the hero or heroine, I forget which, in Moore's ballad, who held a feast of tears, and was social in the deepest of woes. "You expect the rehearsal on Thursday?" she said. "Not a chance of it. They are getting up a rhyming version of the Miller and his Men, and Martingdale and Fitz-Edward are on the point of borrowing the property pistols to fight a duel with, to decide which of them goes into the sack. But come on Thursday, and then you will see for yourself." On Thursday I went. With more politeness and friendliness than usual, Mr Montalban invited me up to his room. "Great news," he said; "I have great news for you. I think I may now say our fortunes are made."

"Does the play go well at rehearsal?" I inquired, with a glow of gratification not unmingled with triumph over the sinister auguries of Miss Claribel.

"Never has been put in rehearsal at all. The Lord Chamberlain has positively said no. It is not to be done."

"On what ground has the Lord Chamberlain put his veto?" I asked, compressing my lips to restrain my anger. "Does he find anything injurious to morals or religion in Hengist and Horsa?"

"Far from it," replied Montalban. "You are aware that the Lord Chamberlain is appointed for the express purpose of seeing that plays are worthy of public approbation, both for their literary merit and moral tendency. Well, his lordship--who is always the most distinguished man in the Peerage for his literary tastes and performances--has devoted several days to the study of your excellent play, and his final decision is, that it deserves a wider field than we can afford it here. He has ordered its representation to be delayed till arrangements can be made for its appearance at one of the great national theatres. What do you say to that, Mr Dipbowing? Think of the thousands at Drury Lane! Think of the Queen in the royal box, attended by all her court? I give you joy, upon my honour, and feel highly charmed that it is through me that your glory is to be secured." Here Mr Montalban shook hands with me so heartily, that I couldn't resist the influence of his friendly manner, and returned his pressure with a warmth equal to his own.

"Will it be long before arrangements can be made for its appearance at Drury Lane?" I inquired, in the midst of our gratulations.

"Well, that is a sensible question," replied Montalban. "I must consult his Lordship on the point. I have certainly made an offer for it; but as the trustees are hard-hearted people, with no love for the modern drama, they insist on a deposit towards the rent; and as I am deficient to the amount of fifty pounds----"

"Is that the whole deficiency?" I said; "for if such a sum----"

"Forty-eight pound fifteen is the exact amount that would enable me to table their demand; but with such enormous expenses as I am at here, where could a man look for assistance, even to that paltry extent? The Lord Chamberlain, I have no doubt, would forego his fee----"

"What!" I inquired, "is there a fee on the production of a new play?"

"Isn't there?" answered Montalban. "The advantage of a censorship of the press or of the stage, which is the same thing, is not to be had for nothing. No, no: we pay his Lordship--per self or deputy--a very handsome acknowledgment for the trouble he takes in correcting, altering, and improving the tragedies that are submitted to his approval."

"Has his Lordship condescended to amend any of the lines in Hengist?" I asked with gratified interest.

"He has only blotted out all the Heavens, and put in a number of skies. He has also done away with all the fiends and devils; for our improver is a very devout man, and seems to have an awful veneration for Beelzebub. O! it's well worth the money, I assure you, to have the certificate that all's right from such high literary and religious authority."

"And fifty pounds would do it," I said half to myself.

"Forty-eight pound fifteen," said Mr Montalban, altogether to the same individual.

"It shall be done," I said, and shook his hand again. "Send in your agreement to the trustees; I will give you the sum you require."

"I don't for a moment scruple to take your offer," replied the manager, "for I feel--I know--I am only acting as your trustee in doing so. Your terms, Mr Dipbowing, are quadrupled. You shall have twenty pounds a-night from the very commencement of the run. And old Drury shall feel the breath of the Legitimate again. Is there anything else that strikes you?"

"Couldn't you find an opening for Miss Claribel?" I said. "I am confident she has great dramatic powers, and only requires an opportunity to display them in order to take the town by storm."

"Name what part you like, and she shall be in the bills, in letters two inches long, on our opening night." Again I shook hands, and the matter was satisfactorily settled.

"O," said Mr Montalban, calling me back, as if he had forgotten something, "if you don't happen to have the money in hand, I can tell you of a way which will be more easy for you, and quite as agreeable to me."

I was delighted at his thoughtful friendship; and did not scruple to confess that, till some money which we expected came from India, the outlay would put me to inconvenience.

"Better and better," he exclaimed. "I can put you in clover in the mean time, and you can do as you like when the payments for the play begin. I have a friend who is oppressed with ready money, and is always delighted to make a safe and honourable investment. Here is a bill at two months for a hundred and fifty pounds. Just write your name there, and this day week I will pay you a hundred, keeping the other fifty as a loan for our Drury Lane transaction; and in consequence of the play being now sure to go on at Old Drury, we will have a dress rehearsal on that day. On Thursday, sir, you will receive a hundred pounds, and see Hengist in all his glory."

I never signed a paper with so much pleasure in my life. I considered it was merely receiving prepayment of part of my theatrical gains; and felt now perfectly assured that the manager had no doubt of my success, as he in a joking manner offered to consider the money repaid, if I would give him an order on the treasurer of Old Drury for my profits of the first ten nights.

"You look very happy," said Miss Claribel to me, as I passed the wing, "and yet you have not been on the stage to see the rehearsal of your play."

"It is not in rehearsal," I said; "and moreover, my dear Miss Claribel, it isn't going to be rehearsed--to-day."

"I told you so," replied Miss Claribel, tying her bonnet and putting on her shawl; "but as I have now got up my _rôle_ of standing behind Miss de la Rose's chair, I will walk a part of the way home with you, and hear what you have said to Montalban."

"What I have said to Montalban is this," I said, when we had got out into the street, "that you were lost and buried here, and that I requested a more prominent position for a young lady of so much beauty and so much talent."

"And he said?"

"That you should very shortly make your appearance in whatever character I chose to name."

"Did you name any character?"

"I resolved to consult you first. Will you try Desdemona or Ophelia?"

"You lent him money," said Miss Claribel, in a sad voice.

"On the contrary," I said, "he has advanced some to me." We walked for five minutes in silence. I thought she was speechless with gratitude for my interference in her behalf; I thought also it might be with reverence of my genius, now that she saw it was appreciated by the bestowers of wealth and fame.

"Will you tell my dear and kind Mrs de Bohun, that I will come to her for an hour to-morrow at twelve o'clock? In the mean time, my good young friend, I wish you good day." And without a word of thanks or congratulation, she walked away.

As I saw her graceful figure and elegant motion, I again felt a gush of gratification fill my heart at having interfered so effectually in her favour. Beautiful and modest Miss Claribel! I thought; it is to me you will owe your triumph at Drury Lane, and not solitary shall you be in your success! No, there's a Hamlet shall respond to all the divine tendernesses of the sweet Ophelia--an Othello who will weep tears of blood over the death-couch of your Desdemona--a Romeo--But here I was nearly run over by a West End omnibus; and wondering whether Miss Claribel would be as delighted with my support as I was with hers, I got into the 'bus, which awoke me from my reverie, and returned home.

I met Catsbach in the passage. "My dear fellow," he said, "I insist on your coming with me to-night. I have something very interesting to show you."

"Where'er you like," I cried in a sort of rapture--"'whatever realms to see.' My arm a nobler victory ne'er gained, and I am at your command. 'Go on: I follow thee.'"

"Come up to me at seven; bring your flute. We shall have a cheerer or two before we start; and you can tell me all about the rehearsal of your play."

"Is all right about the rehearsal, Charles?" said my mother, as I entered her room radiant with delight.

"Yes, mother--all is going charmingly--but not at the Stepney Star. No! brighter skies are opening--more enduring glory and wealth, mother--sweetened by the delightful thought that it has been honourably won, and that it will all be spent in adding comforts--ay! luxuries to you! I am to be paid a hundred pounds next week; the play is to be brought out at Drury Lane; my uncle will hear of my triumph the moment he steps on English ground, and conscience will gnaw his prosaic heart for his neglect and harshness; the Queen will probably attend the first night; horses, and spectacles, and _tableaux vivants_ shall be banished from the English stage; and when people in the street see you and me in the nice little Brougham I intend to keep for you, they'll say the good times of the drama are come back again; that's the author of Hengist and Horsa."

It is useless to describe our rapture. We got a map of London, and looked over it all in search of a nice new street to go and live in. My mother rather leant to the classic retirements of Brompton, but I put a great splash of ink on Wilton Place. "Lord John Russell," I exclaimed, "began by writing a play, and I, too, will be a Belgravian."