CHAPTER XXIX.

PREPARATIONS FOR AN IMPORTANT EVENT.

The coldness between uncle Bryan and Jessie did not diminish with time. As a matter of necessity they were compelled to speak to each other occasionally, but they did so with coldness and reluctance, and a distinct avoidance of the subject which had broken the bond between them. I say that they were compelled to speak to each other as a matter of necessity, but I may be mistaken; they may have spoken not out of consideration for themselves, but for my mother. Thinking over the matter since that time, I have understood how those two, if they had been alone, might have lived in the same house for years, and might have performed their separate duties conscientiously, without a word passing between them. For the sake of peace Jessie would have yielded, but uncle Bryan would have remained implacable. Results proved this. In vain did my mother strive to bring them together in a more amiable spirit; in vain did she speak separately to each of the other's good qualities, magnifying their merits, ignoring their faults. Her labour upon uncle Bryan was entirely lost; but it was different with Jessie, not because she thought she was wrong, nor for uncle Bryan's sake, but out of her love for my mother.

'You are a child, my dear,' said my mother to her, 'and he is an old man. If for that reason alone, you should yield.'

'It would be useless,' was Jessie's rejoinder; 'I have known him for a much shorter time than you, but I know his nature better than you do. I judge of it by my own.'

'You do both him and yourself injustice, my dear,' pleaded the peacemaker; 'if he were all wrong and you were all right, it would be your duty to give in.'

'Love and duty do not always go together,' said Jessie obstinately.

'But we must make sacrifices, my child; what a miserable thing this life would be if some of us did not yield!'

'If I thought,' said Jessie, softening, 'that I should not be insulted I would do as you wish willingly, most willingly--not for my sake, but for yours.'

'Try, then, for my sake.'

'I will; and you will see what will come of it.'

And Jessie tried, in her best manner and in good faith, with the result for which she was prepared.

'Can you not see now how it is?' she asked, with tears in her eyes. 'I have brought trouble into this house. How much better would it have been for you if I had never entered it! But it wasn't my fault. Ah, if I were a man I wouldn't stop in it for another hour! But I have no friends; and if it were not that I love to live, I might wish that I had never been born.'

'Then you do not regard me as a friend, my dear child?'

But Jessie, with cruel determination, refused to respond to the tender appeal, and turned rebelliously away. All this I learnt from my mother, who hid nothing from me, and it did not tend to make me happier.

'Be patient, my darling,' my mother said; 'all will come right in the end.'

'Did anything ever come right with uncle Bryan?' I fretfully asked. 'Think of the story he told us! I remember too well what you said when I asked if you would have me look on things as he does. You said it would take all the sweetness out of my life; and you were right. He has taken the sweetness out of it already.'

I did not consider that it was the very refinement of cruelty to bring her own words in judgment against herself. On such occasions she would tremble from sheer helplessness; but with unwearied patience she would strengthen her soul, and strive, and strive, for ever with the same result. So wrapt was I in my own unhappiness, that it was only by fits and starts I gave a thought to hers; even that she was growing thinner and more sad, with this inward conflict of her affections, escaped me. Others saw it, but at that time the selfishness of my own grief made me blind.

But there were bright spots in my life during these days, even in the midst of these unhappy differences, in every one of which Jessie was the central figure. All that seemed to me worth living for was centred in Jessie; and she was never absent from my mind. She passed nearly the whole of her time with the Wests now--naturally enough, finding so little comfort at home--and as I was not happy out of her society, all my leisure was spent with her. This circumstance was introduced unpremeditatedly one evening when Jessie and I were preparing to go out. My mother, to tempt us to stop at home, had promised some little delicacies for supper, and mentioned it incidentally, when Jessie said that she should not want any supper when she came home.

'I am sure to have supper with Josey West,' she said.

'You go there a great deal, Jessie,' remarked my mother, with an anxious look.

'I am happy there,' was Jessie's terse reply; 'but I don't want to take Chris away.'

'You don't want the sunflower to turn to the sun,' sneered uncle Bryan, with his usual amiability.

'I will not thank you for the compliment,' said Jessie, 'for it isn't meant for one. Chris,' she exclaimed, turning suddenly to me, 'is the sun the only bright thing in the heavens? Is not the moon as lovely, and are not the stars the loveliest of all?'

Uncle Bryan took up the theme, continuing it to her disadvantage.

'But one loses sight of these loveliest things of all when the glare of the sun is in his eyes.'

Jessie bit her lips.

'Am I to blame for going where my best friends are?' she asked.

'You go where your wishes take you. We are certainly not good enough for such a young lady as you.'

'Perhaps not,' said Jessie defiantly, as she left the room.

This was her custom, after all her attempts at conciliation had failed. Sometimes she would be silent; at others she would answer pithily and bitterly, and without thought, perhaps; but she always retired when she was becoming the subject of conversation. The old days of light skirmishing were at an end. Short and bitter battles of words, in which there was much gall, were now the fashion.

I was aware that for some time preparations were being made for an important evening at the Wests'. I was very curious about it, but Jessie would not allay my curiosity.

'You shall know all at the proper time,' she said; 'in the mean time you can help me if you like.'

'Of course I will. What is that paper in your hand?'

'This is one of my characters, Chris. See here. Pauline--I'm to play Pauline. And here's another--Mrs. Letitia Lullaby--that's me again. I must learn every word of the parts, and you can help me in them.'

'I know what you want, Jessie; I've heard Turk go through some of his parts.'

Thus it fell to my lot to hear Jessie repeat from memory all that Pauline and Mrs. Letitia Lullaby have to say, giving her the cues, and correcting her until she was, as she said, 'letter perfect.' But as she continued to tease me, and would not let me into the secret of all this preparation, I applied to Josey West for information. The good-natured creature seldom refused me anything.

'We are going to have a grand dress performance, my dear,' she said, 'and Jessie will play the principal characters in two pieces.'

'In dress?' I asked, in some amazement.

'In dress, my dear. The pieces are _Delicate Ground_, and _A Conjugal Lesson_; three characters in the first, and two in the second. Gus will play Mr. Simon Lullaby, Jessie's husband, in one piece, and Citizen Sangfroid, Jessie's husband, in the other. Brinsley, who is out of an engagement, has condescended--that is the word, my dear--condescended to play Alphonse de Grandier in _Delicate Ground_ for one night only, by special request of a lady.'

'Jessie?' I said.

'She is the lady referred to; the part is far beneath him, of course--these parts always are, my dear, unless they are the principal parts--but he'll play it very well; I shouldn't wonder if he doesn't try to cut Gus out, so that we are sure to have some good acting. Between the pieces there will be some dancing by Sophy, and Florry, and Matty, and Rosy, and Nelly--it's good practice for them--and as there's a change of performance at the Royal Columbia, Turk hopes to be able to get away in time to see the last piece, and to recite "The Dream of Eugene Aram." He wished very much to recite another piece, as he was sick of committing murders, he said; but he does Eugene Aram also by special request of a lady. He does it very finely too; one night at a benefit two ladies went into hysterics in the middle of it, and had to be carried out of the theatre. There was a paragraph in the _Era_ about it, and it was put in some country papers as well. Turk is very proud of that; he often speaks of it as a triumph of art. I ought to play something as well, oughtn't I, my dear, on Jessie's night? But I shall have enough to do as acting-manager.'

'Why do you call it Jessie's night?'

'Because it's the first time she ever dressed to act. Why, Turk has got some bills printed!--he's a good-natured fellow, is Turk, the best in the whole bunch, my dear! Here's one; but you mustn't say you've seen it. Jessie doesn't know anything about it yet.' And Josey West produced a printed bill, which read as follows:

Theatre Royal, Paradise Row. Lessee: Miss Josey West.

****

_ENORMOUS ATTRACTION FOR THIS NIGHT ONLY_.

FULL DRESS REHEARSAL, FOR THE BENEFIT OF MISS JESSIE TRIM, Who will make her First Appearance on any stage, Supported by those eminent Tragedians and Comedians, MR. AUGUSTUS WEST AND MR. BRINSLEY WEST.

****

On this occasion will be presented the comic drama of

Citizen Sangfroid Mr. AUGUSTUS WEST. Alphonse de Grandier Mr. BRINSLEY WEST Pauline Miss JESSIE TRIM.

_To be followed by a_ GRAND BALLET AND TERPSICHOREAN REVEL, In which Mdlles. Sophy, Florry, Matty, Rosy, and Nelly will appear.

_After which_ (_by special request_).

The Eminent Mr. Turk West (the Original Thug) will give his celebrated Recitation of THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.

_The whole to conclude with the comedietta entitled_, A CONJUGAL LESSON. Mr. Simon Lullaby Mr. Augustus West. Mrs. Simon Lullaby Miss Jessie Trim. Stage Manager, Mr. Augustus West. Acting Manager, Miss Josey West. _Free List suspended. Press excepted_.

******

In consequence of the great attraction, the entire Theatre has been converted into Stalls, the price of which will be One Guinea, or by special order, to be obtained of the Acting Manager. On this occasion babies in arms will be admitted, on the condition that their mothers accompany them, and that the baby-bottles are fully charged.

Josey West drew my particular attention to various parts of the programme, such as the price of the stalls. 'In a fashionable theatre, my dear, such as this is,' she said, with a whimsical look,' you can't make the stalls too high;' and the notice about babies in arms--'You know what a famous family we are for babies, my dear;' especially to the words, 'Free list suspended, press excepted.'

'But you don't expect the press,' I said.

'Not exactly the press; but somebody of as much importance as a critic may honour us with his company. But never mind him just now. Isn't the programme splendid? It was Turk's idea, and he drew it up, and had it printed, all out of his own pocket. No one knows anything of it but you and me and him, so you must keep it quiet--we want to surprise Jessie with it when the night comes. Turk says that when Jessie is a famous actress this playbill will be a great curiosity.'

'When Jessie becomes a famous actress!' I repeated, with a sinking heart.

'Yes, my dear; and she will be if she likes. Do you know, Chris, that if I were you--I really think if I were you'--and she paused, and looked at me kindly and shrewdly--'that I would buy two of the nicest bouquets I can see to throw to Jessie when she is called on at the end of the pieces. We'll manage between us, you and me, that no one shall see them until the proper moment; you buy them, and give them to me on the sly before the audience arrives, and I'll place them under your seat, so that no one shall know. And now, my dear, I want you to tell me something. If you don't like to, don't; and if I am asking any thing that I oughtn't to ask, all you've got to do is to tell me of it, and I'll drop it at once. Is Jessie comfortable at home? Ah, you hesitate and turn colour; if you speak, you'll stammer. Don't say a word; I'll drop the subject.'

'No, why should you?' I said. 'You are a good friend, and you have a reason for asking.'

'I am as good a friend, my dear, to you and Jessie as you'll find in all your knockings about in the world. Mind that! Don't you forget it, or you'll hurt my feelings, as the Kinchin says. You've only got one better friend, and that's that dear mother of yours, that I'd like to throw my arms round the neck of this minute, and hug.'

'Why, you've never spoken to her, Josey!'

'What of that? I've heard of her, and that's enough for Josey West. And a good mother makes a good son. I like you first for yourself, and I like you second for your mother (_not_ out of a riddlebook, my dear, though it sounds like it)! As for my reasons, why, yes, I have my reasons for asking, or I shouldn't ask.'

'Jessie does not make a confidant of any one but you, I suppose, Josey.'

'Of no one but me, my dear, and I know what I know, and suspect a great deal more.'

'If Jessie confides in you, I may. She is not so happy at home as she might be and as she deserves to be.'

'Thank you, my dear; I only wanted to make sure. Now we'll drop the subject.' She went through some comical pantomime, as though she were sewing up her lips. 'Stop and see the girls go through their ballet. Come along, Sophy and Florry and all of you; the bell has rung for the curtain.' And she began to sing, first, however, whispering to me that we should have real music on _the_ night. 'No expense, my dear; it's all ready to hand in the family.'

Then the children arranged their figures and positions to Josey West's singing, and rehearsed the ballet with the seriousness of grown-up people.

Neither uncle Bryan nor my mother knew anything of Jessie's passion for acting. Jessie held me to my promise of not saying anything about it at home; and on occasions when I urged her to let my mother know of it, she refused in the most decided manner, and said she had her reasons for keeping it a secret.

As for myself, I found myself in a labyrinth. So conflicting were the influences around me, that I scarcely dared to think of the plans I had cherished but a little while since, and hoped to see fulfilled. I could only hope and wait.