CHAPTER XXX.

JESSIE'S TRIUMPH.

The eventful evening arrived. It had been a difficult matter with me to keep the knowledge of the affair to myself, for I was in a state of great excitement, and my mother noticed it; but she did not seek my confidence except by kind looks of interest and curiosity. During the day, in accordance with Josey West's advice, I bought two handsome bouquets, which I conveyed to Josey secretly, and which she hid under my seat in the kitchen. Great pains had been taken with the room, which, with benches and chairs properly arranged, and the stage curtain, and a row of stagelights with green shades to them, really presented the appearance of a miniature theatre. It was rather gloomy, certainly, for all the candles were required for the stage, but that was a small matter. The room was filled chiefly by the West family, of whom every available member was present, down to the youngest baby in arms, and among the audience were a few persons with whom I was not acquainted, but whose appearance, with one exception, clearly denoted that they belonged to the dramatic profession. Two male and two female Wests, of tender age, comprised the band; the girls played the violin, and one of the boys played the flute, and the other the cornopean--which latter instrument ran short occasionally in the matter of wind. Everybody was very excited and very merry, and Josey West's queer little figure was continually darting before and behind the curtain.

'Would you like to see her?' the good-natured creature whispered to me. 'Of course you would. Come along, then. She's dressed for Pauline.'

I went with Josey behind the scenes to Jessie's dressing-room, which had been built for the occasion with shop-shutters, and blankets, and odds and ends. Jessie looked wonderfully fascinating and beautiful in her fine dress, and a painful feeling of inferiority came upon me in the presence of so much grace and loveliness.

'And how do I look, Chris?' she asked, as she stood before me, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

I sighed as I told her that I had never seen any one look more lovely.

'_She'll_ never want a wig, my dear!' said Josey West admiringly, as she ran her fingers through Jessie's beautiful hair. 'Did you ever see such hair and such a complexion? All her own, my dear--scarcely a touch of the hare's foot. But, bless the boy! he looks as if he was sorry instead of pleased. That's not the way to make her act well. There! kiss her, and go back to your seat. The music's beginning.'

My cheeks were as red as Jessie's as Josey West pushed me towards Jessie, and turned her back; but my arm was round Jessie's waist nevertheless, and Jessie, moved by a sudden impulse, kissed me very affectionately. It was the first time our lips had ever met.

'Done?' cried Josey West. 'There! I'm sure you feel more comfortable now. Now run away, or I shall have you turned out of the house.'

In a very happy frame of mind I took my seat among the audience, whose enthusiasm was unbounded. The stage management was simply perfect; there was not a hitch in the entire performance. Directly the music ceased, amidst a general clapping of hands and stamping of feet--our satisfaction was so complete that we wanted everything done over again--a bell tinkled for the curtain, which was promptly drawn aside, and the comic drama of _Delicate Ground_ commenced. General interest of course centred round Jessie, who at first was slightly nervous, but she grew more confident as the scene progressed. To say that she played well is to say little; her acting on that night is fixed in my mind as the most perfect and beautiful I have ever seen. It was not only my opinion, it was the opinion of all, and the applause that was bestowed upon her was astonishing in its genuineness and heartiness. 'By heavens, sir!' I heard one of the visitors with whom I was not acquainted say to another--'by heavens, sir, she's peerless--peerless! She'll make a sensation when she comes out.' There was an entire absence of envy in the praise that was given to her; and the women, as well as the men, were extravagantly enthusiastic in their demonstrations. I heard remarks also passed from one to another, to the effect that Gus and Brinsley never acted better in their lives; they certainly, after the fashion of Turk, 'went in' with a will, and it was difficult to say which of them deserved the palm of victory. I liked Brinsley best, because he did not play the part of Jessie's husband, but this view I kept to myself. Had it not been for the kiss Jessie had given me, the memory of which made me triumphantly happy during the whole of the night, I might have been rendered uneasy by the passion which Gus West threw into the last lines of his part: 'You _have_ no rival. You have been, and are, sole mistress of this my heart. You have been, and will be, sole mistress of this my house.' But even these words, and the passion with which they were spoken, did not disturb me, and when the curtain fell upon the scene, my only feeling was one of pride in Jessie's triumph. There were loud calls for Pauline; and Turk, who came in just as the curtain fell, joined vehemently in the applause, although he had seen nothing of the piece. He was accompanied by the old actor, whom I knew as Mac, and whose acquaintance I had made on the memorable night I spent at the Royal Columbia. When Jessie, led on by Gus and Brinsley West, came before the curtain and curtsied her acknowledgments, and when I threw my bouquet at her feet, the cheers were redoubled again and again; and all acknowledged that there could not have been a greater success. Then there was a merry interval, which was occupied by gossip and refreshments; and then the ballet and terpsichorean revel by Josey West's sisters, towards whom the audience were disposed to be more critical. The young misses acquitted themselves admirably, and were followed by Turk West, whose 'Dream of Eugene Aram' was a most tremendous elocutionary effort. To me it was terribly grand, and the intense earnestness of Turk made a deep impression upon me. He was rewarded by unanimous cries of 'Bravo, Turk!' 'Well done, old fellow!' and a call before the curtain, which he acknowledged in his best manner. Jessie's appearance in _The Conjugal Lesson_, as Mrs. Simon Lullaby, was, if possible, more successful than her Pauline; but Turk, who found a seat next to me, was somewhat sarcastic on his brother Gus. Perhaps he was jealous too; at all events, he whispered to me that he wished _he_ had had the opportunity of playing Mr. Simon Lullaby; 'then you would have seen a piece of acting, Chris, my boy, which you would not easily have forgotten.' It was late when the performances were over. Jessie was of course called on again, and received my second bouquet, and then the company prepared to depart. But Josey West cried out from behind the curtain that they were all to stop to supper, and in a short time these male and female Bohemians, the merriest and best-hearted crew in the world, were regaling themselves on bread-and-cheese and pickles and beer, amid such a din of joviality that you could scarcely hear your own words. I went behind to Jessie's room, and waited until she was dressed; Josey West heard me walking restlessly about, and called to me when Jessie was ready.

'And what do you think of us now?' she asked.

I did not stint my measure of admiration, and I told them what I had heard one of the visitors say, that Jessie's acting was peerless--peerless.

'And so it was,' said Josey West. 'Which one was it, my dear, who said that--a tall thin man, with a sandy moustache?'

'No; but he was sitting near, and I saw him nodding his head, and clapping, as though he was very pleased.'

'That's a good sign; he's a fine judge of acting. He'll want to be introduced to you, Jessie; so will they all. I shouldn't wonder----'

'What?' I asked.

'Nothing, my dear, unless you can make something out of the circumstance that that gentleman's name is Rackstraw, and that he prepares young ladies for the stage. That was a good thought of yours, my dear, bringing these bouquets. Such beautiful ones, too! I wish I had such a prince!'

Jessie laughingly bade Josey West hold her tongue, and I saw with delight that she had placed in her bosom a flower from one of the bouquets.

'It was very kind of you, Chris,' said Jessie, giving me her hand, which was burning with excitement.

'You must be tired, Jessie.'

'I could go all through it again,' she replied.

'That's the way with us excitable creatures,' observed Josey West complacently; 'we're like thoroughbred race-horses, we can go on till we drop. Now, Jessie, come along and be praised.'

The praises she received were sufficient to turn any one's head; she was surrounded and kissed by all the women, and the men could not find words sufficiently strong to express their gratification. Mr. Rackstraw, the gentleman who prepared young ladies for the stage, was very eulogistic and very inquisitive, asking personal questions with a freedom which did not please me. But neither Josey West nor Jessie shared my feeling in this respect--Josey especially taking great interest in what he said.

'And you think she would succeed?' said Josey West.

'I am sure of it, Josey,' he answered.

He addressed all in the room by their Christian names, and was evidently regarded as a man of importance.

'But there is a great deal to be learnt?' asked Jessie; 'is there not?'

'Yes, assuredly, my dear.' (Another sign of familiarity which displeased me. I did not mind it from the members of the West family; there was a homely and honest ring of affection in the term as they used it, but it sounded quite differently from Mr. Rackstraw's lips.) 'A great deal.'

'And it would cost money?'

'Well, yes,' he said promptly, 'it would cost money--but not much, not much. Josey, I took the liberty of bringing a friend with me--Mr. Glover.'

Mr. Glover, the best-dressed man in the room, tall and dark, and between forty and fifty years of age, was the gentleman I had noticed who, alone among the audience, did not appear to belong to the dramatic profession. I had not paid any attention to him during the evening, but upon this direct reference I turned towards him, and saw at a glance, in my closer observance of him, that his station in life was higher than ours. Being introduced to Jessie, he thanked her for a most pleasant evening.

'I am not a frequenter of theatres,' he said, 'but if you were upon the stage, I think I should be tempted to come very often to see you.' He spoke well and slowly, and with the manner of a person who was accustomed to reflect upon each word before it passed his lips. When he and his friend were gone, Josey West informed us that Mr. Rackstraw was a person of the greatest influence. Not only did he prepare young ladies for the stage, she said, but he was in connection with a theatrical agency, where important engagements were effected. Gus's name was down upon the books of this agency, and having in this way made Mr. Rackstraw's personal acquaintance, he had induced him to come down and see Jessie act. Josey was in high spirits because everything had gone off so well.

'It is a real, complete, and splendid success,' she said, 'and ought to be repeated every evening until further notice. Hark--old Mac's going to speak!'

The old actor had risen, glass in hand, and had expressed his wish to address a few words to the company--an intimation which was received with vociferous and lengthened applause.

'Brothers and sisters in the noblest of all noble professions,' he said, 'this reception is not only cheering, but, coming upon me when I am in the sere and yellow----'(Here there were cries of 'No, no, old fellow; you've a good twenty years before you yet!')--'I use the language of those base and envious detractors who say it is time the old actor was laid on the shelf. Using their words, then, which Avon's Swan never thought would be so misapplied, this reception coming upon me when I am in the sere and yellow, is not only cheering but affecting. It recalls the memory of times when the humble individual before you never stepped upon the boards without one, and when old Mac's place--his proper and legitimate place in the ranks, won by the force of genius and hard study----'(Cries of 'Bravo, Mac! Go it!')--'I mean to--when his legitimate place, won, as I have said, by the force of hard study and genius, was not occupied by pretenders. But tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis----' (The applause here lasted for full a minute) 'O yes, old Mac can show these pretenders the way to go! Tempora mutantur, et cetera, my sons, and may you never find it out in the same way as the humble individual who stands before you has! But it was not to speak of myself that I rose--the old actor never cares to thrust himself forward'--(general and good-humoured laughter)--'knowing as he does that the subject is weary, stale, and unprofitable. He knows that he is but "a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more!" But damme, my sons, the poor player is happy to know that in his old age he has honour, love, and, if not obedience, troops of friends.' ('So you have, old boy! Go on!') 'I intend to. I drink to you. Give me the cup. Nay, I have it'--(with a humorous look)--'not sparkling to the brim, but 'twill serve. "Let the kettle to the trumpet speak. The trumpet to the cannoneer without. The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth." Old Mac drinks to those he loves!' (As the speaker drained his glass, the youngster who played the cornopean performed a flourish upon the instrument, and the other members of the company did their best to produce an appropriate demonstration.) 'But to the point. We have witnessed to-night a most remarkable performance by a young lady, who I am informed has never appeared upon the boards--a young lady who is destined to occupy a distinguished position--mark me, a distinguished position--and may old Mac live to see it! She has youth, she has grace, she has beauty, she has genius. In her presence I say it, my sons. The old actor knows a pretender when he sees him, and he knows genius when he sees it; he sees it here. In proposing the toast of this young lady's health' (Mac placed his glass upon the table, and waited until it was refilled), 'and in wishing her the success that always should, but sometimes doesn't, wait on merit, old Mac knows that he is performing a task which every one of you would like to have performed in his place. But damme, my sons, while old Mac lives, the old school of gallantry will never die out.'

How the toast was received, and with what enthusiasm it was drunk; how they all surrounded Jessie and petted her and complimented her; how she blushed and trembled at the praises which were showered upon her; and how these honours seemed to remove her farther and farther from me,--I have not the power to describe. It was two o'clock in the morning before the company broke up, and Jessie and I walked home. My heart was full almost to bursting, and I could not trust myself to speak. Not a word passed between us, but with Jessie's arm closely entwined in mine, and with her hand clasped in mine, I felt that without her I would not wish to live. When we reached home, I knocked softly at the street-door, but no answer came. I knocked more loudly, but still there was no answer. Surprised that my mother was not waiting up for us, I tried the handle of the door, and found that it was unlocked. I closed the street-door, and we entered the sitting-room, where a candle was burning. My mother was there, sitting by the table, with her head on her arm. I approached her in some alarm, and saw that she was asleep; her dreams must have been distressing ones, for she was sobbing bitterly.