*CHAPTER XIII.*
*THE HERO OF THE HOUR.*
Grey's heart was beating to suffocation as he put the finishing touchesto his toilet. The Old Lion sat beside the fire in his costume ofFather Time, bending forward to the blaze, but giving vent from time totime to a hollow cough, which at a less all-engrossing moment might havecaused Grey some uneasiness. But to-night his head was filled withother thoughts. He was about to start for Lord Romaine's house. Therepresentation of "Time and the Youth" was to be given there before alarge and fashionable assembly. _She_ would be there! That was hisfirst thought. She would watch the performance. He might even be ableto pick her out from crowded audience, and feast his eyes upon her pure,pale beauty. At least for an hour he would be near her. That alone wasenough to set his heart beating in tumultuous fashion. She would bethere. At Lord Romaine's own house it was impossible it should beotherwise. Their eyes might meet; and though she would know himnot--better that she should not, indeed--he would gaze upon thosefeatures which were dearest to him out of all the world. And whetherfor weal or woe, Grey knew by this time that the love of his whole beingwas centred in Lady Geraldine Adair, though he was schooling himself tothe thought of seeing her and knowing her to be another man's wife. Tohim she could only be as a star in the firmament of heaven--as abenignant influence guiding him to higher and nobler paths. That washow he must ever learn to regard her, for her world and his were polesasunder. And what had he to offer to any woman--he whose future lay alluncertain before him, and whose fortunes were yet in the clouds?
A message from below warned them that the coach which was to convey themto Lord Romaine's house was now at the door.
"You are tired, sir," spoke Grey, suddenly waking from his reverie andturning to the old man, who rose with an air of lassitude which hisstrong will could not entirely conceal; "I fear me you are not quiteyourself to-night. This constant acting is something too great a strainupon you."
"Ay, my boy, I am growing old," answered the other, with a note of painin his voice; "I feel it as I never felt it before. My triumph has comejust a little too late. I am too old to take up the threads of the pastagain. The Old Lion has risen once again to roar in the forest, but hemust needs lay him down soon in his den--to die."
Over Grey's face there passed a quick spasm of anxiety and pain.
"Nay, nay; say not so. I have never heard you speak in such veinbefore. What ails you to-night, dear master?"
"No matter, boy, no matter; heed not my groanings," answered Wylde,assuming more of his usual manner, though he held tightly to Grey's armas they descended the stairs. "I have been somewhat out of sorts theselast few days, and you know how they did tell me at the theatre that myvoice was not well heard the other night--"
"Ah, but you had that rheum upon you. It is better now. Yesterday yournotes rang forth like those of a clarion."
"Ah yes, that may be; but what has happened once may chance again. Boy,did you observe a gray-headed man standing in the slips and watching myevery action, his lips following mine as I spoke my part?"
"I did. I thought he seemed to know every word by heart himself. Hehad the face of an actor, methought."
"He is one, and a favourite with the people--Anthony Frewen is his name.He and I have held many an audience spellbound ere now. What think youhe was there for?"
"Nay, I know not, save to watch and learn and admire."
"Ay, truly, to watch and learn, that he may step into Father Time'spart, should the day come when I can hold my throne no longer."
A violent fit of coughing here interrupted the old man's words, seemingto give a point to his speech that otherwise it might have lacked.
Grey supported him tenderly whilst the paroxysm lasted; but he sataghast, thinking what might be coming upon his master and friend. If,indeed, he were to be laid aside by illness, how could the successfuldramatic interlude be carried on, save by another actor? And did it notlook as though theatre managers were foreseeing this contingency, andpreparing for it?
"Could they, indeed, supersede you, sir?" he asked at length. "Havethey the right to do so, since the thing was written by you? Must theynot rather wait for you to take up your part again, should the coldseize upon you, and for a time render you unfit for your part?"
"Nay, nay, they will not do that; and they have purchased the rights toproduce the piece as long as they will. I could not complain. I couldonly submit." He stopped and drew his breath rather hard, and thenbroke out with something of his old fire: "But what matter? what matter?It is nature's law! The old must give way to the young. I have lived mylife. I have shown men what I can do. I have aroused me from sleep,and shone like a meteor in the sky ere my long eclipse shall come. I amcontent. I ask no more. Let Elisha take up the mantle which falls fromElijah. My work will be remembered when the hand that penned it isdust."
Grey was almost horrified by these words. It seemed to him as thoughthe Old Lion were almost making up his mind to some approachingcalamity; and at the thought of losing his one friend, the young man'sheart stood still. He had become greatly attached to Wylde; but he knewthat amid those of his own profession he had many enemies. Nor had hebeen many weeks amongst actors before he had learned the jealousies andemulations that burned so fiercely amongst them, and how eagerly everyvacant place was snapped up by one of a crowd of eager aspirants. Whoknew but that somebody might even now be studying his part of the Youth,ready to step into his shoes should any untoward event occur toincapacitate him? He had constantly seen the handsome but unsteadyLionel Field hanging about the theatre, and once or twice he had come tosee them in their lodgings, and had asked the Old Lion to speak a goodword for him, declaring that he had resolved upon turning over a newleaf, and becoming steady and sober again. Grey remembered now how manyquestions he had put about the Duke of Marlborough, asking how Grey hadbecome so well acquainted with his person and voice and gestures. Thesehe himself had imitated, not without success, for the young man hadconsiderable natural gifts, and far more training than Grey could boast,although he had won so great success through the close instructions ofan able master.
The young man knew perfectly by this time that Wylde was somewhat fearedin dramatic circles for his keen criticisms, his autocratic temper, andhis scathing powers of retort. He knew, likewise, that he was regardedas something of an interloper--a man who had risen suddenly into noticeby what might be called "back-stair" influence. Grey was fully awarehimself that he had served no apprenticeship to his present calling,that he had stepped into success simply and solely through a series ofhappy accidents. He could not wonder that to others he should seem to besomething of an impostor and a fraud. Whilst under the Old Lion'simmediate patronage, nobody dared to flout or insult him; but he wassometimes conscious of an undercurrent of hostile jealousy directedagainst him, which increased with his increasing popularity with thepublic. He could not doubt that if some mischance were to befall him orhis patron, his fall would be acclaimed in many circles with delight, asmaking room for another to fill his vacant place. And Grey, looking atthe hollow cheeks and the gaunt frame of the Old Lion, hearing from timeto time his painful coughing, began to fear that he, indeed, would notlong be able to face the world or fight his own battle; and doubtful,indeed, did he feel of his own power and ability to fight that battlefor himself single-handed.
The hero of the hour (page 251).]
These fears and misgivings, however, though somewhat dismal at themoment, were all driven away as the carriage rolled under the archway ofLord Romaine's house, and he found himself at his journey's end, and soclose to the object of his heart's desire.
The actors were not, of course, taken into any of the throngeddrawing-rooms; the day for the reception of dramatists as honouredguests at the houses of the nobility was not yet. They were, however,respectfully conducted to a small apartment and offered refreshments,which they partook of sparingly, and then conducted throu
gh the gardento a large temporary structure, which Lady Romaine had insisted onhaving run up, so that she might invite a very large audience to herhouse for the occasion.
There was a well-arranged stage for the actors, and the scenery, such asit was, had been well painted, in imitation of that at the theatres;Father Time's throne was a very fine erection, and all the arrangementswere excellent. The old man seemed to throw off his lassitude as hemade his observations, and the fire came back to his eyes and the powerto his voice. Grey forgot his uneasiness in the excitement of themoment, and in the realization of where he was and who might at anymoment appear before his eyes, and he was resolved that thisrepresentation should be the finest which had ever been seen heretofore.
In the grand reception-rooms of the Countess, Geraldine stood apart asone who dreams. She saw the throng of fashionable persons assembling;she heard delighted exclamations about the wonders of the little theatrewhich all had heard of. It had been brought from Spring Gardens, andthe moving of it had been quite a small excitement for the fashionableworld, who declared that Lady Romaine was the cleverest and mostdelightful of women, and that it was quite too charming to be able towitness this representation, of which all the town was talking, withoutthe crush and fatigue of attending the theatres.
Geraldine heard as in a dream all this hubbub and clatter. She herselfwas as eager as any to witness the dramatic interlude, but from a motivedifferent from that of the rest of the world. There was an unwontedflush upon her cheeks, a brilliance in her dreamy eyes. Many persons,who had scarcely noticed her before, or had passed her by with theepithet, "a maid of ice," "a snow-queen," now regarded her with greaterattention, and said one to another that the Lady Geraldine was a morebeautiful creature than they had fancied before.
Lord Sandford, pushing his way through the throng towards her, felt apeculiar thrill of triumph run through him as his eyes dwelt upon herface.
"She is a splendid woman--just fit to be the future Lady Sandford, themother of those who shall come after me! My wooing shall not last muchlonger. I know the mind of her mother, and though her father promisesnothing, he wishes me well. He will not have her coerced, nor would I.She must come to me willingly; but come she shall. She has no mindtowards marriage, as other maids and damsels. Better so, better so. Iwould not have my mistress one of those whose ears are greedy for theflattery of all the world--one who looks upon each man as he appears inthe light of a possible suitor. No, I would have my white lily just asshe is--pure, spotless, calm, cold. It is for me to kindle the fire,for me to unlock the heart; and I will not grumble if the task besomething hard, for better is the prize for which we have toiled andsweated, than the one which drops into our hands at the first touch."
So thinking, he pushed his way till he stood by Geraldine's side, andmet the clear, steady glance of her eyes.
"Fair lady, I give you greeting. You are not going to absent yourselffrom the representation this night? We never know in our garish worldwhere the Lady Geraldine will appear, or what places she will illuminewith the light of her countenance. I rejoice to see you here to-night."
"I have a great desire to see this spectacle of which I have heard somuch," answered Geraldine quietly; "I would fain have gone to thetheatre, if so be that my mother had not arranged this representationhere. I have heard of the Old Lion of the stage, though never have Iseen him. There is something grand in the story I have heard of histalent, his early successes, and his bravely endured eclipse andpoverty. I am right glad he has lived again to taste success and theplaudits of the people."
Lord Sandford laughed at her earnestness.
"You are a philanthropist in sooth, Lady Geraldine, to interest yourselfin the affairs of such persons as these."
"Are they not of our own flesh and blood, my lord?" she asked.
"Faith, I know not, and I care not! At least, they are not of ourworld, which is more to the point in these days."
Geraldine turned away with a look upon her face which roused the hotblood of Lord Sandford; he was not used to scorn.
"Lady Geraldine," he began; but a sudden stir and as sudden a hush inthe great rooms brought his words to an abrupt stop. The Duchess ofMarlborough herself was making her formal entry, and there was almostthe same respect paid to her as though royalty itself were appearing.They were only waiting for her to troop through the covered way into thetheatre; and Geraldine, taking advantage of the movement and theconfusion incident to this, escaped from Lord Sandford, who would havegiven her his arm, made her way rapidly downstairs by a private way, andtook up a position in the theatre where he was quite unable to get nearher.
She had decided beforehand where she would sit--near to a side-door intothe garden, which, standing half-open, let in a current of cool air intothe heated place. It had been warmed beforehand, and was dimly lightedby a number of small lanterns overhead, such as were used in the gardensof Vauxhall and Ranelagh.
Her heart was beating almost to suffocation as the curtain went up, andshe saw the often-described figure of Time upon his throne. But it wasnot of his rounded periods nor his telling gestures that she had beendreaming; and though she listened and watched with a sense offascination, she knew that she was waiting--waiting--waiting for thenext actor, with a sense almost of suffocation in her throat.
Why had she thought this thing? Why had it seemed to her noimpossibility that Sir Grey Dumaresq, vanished utterly from his oldworld, should be masquerading now in this part of the Youth? She couldnot have answered even to herself these questions, yet her heart was allin a tumult. Had he not once said to her, as he plucked a white rosebudand gave it her, "Why was my name not White instead of Grey? Then itwould be like unto you"? Was that enough to build upon? Hardly, butyet she could not help it. Did not men speak of his grace, dignity,manly beauty? and did not many say of him that his face seemed familiarin some sort, yet none could say who he was? And now a thunder of newapplause rent the air. For a moment her vision grew dim and she couldnot see. Then it cleared, and her heart gave a great bound. Clearsilver tones fell upon her ear, and the ring of a voice that she knew.His face for the moment was turned away. He was addressing himself toFather Time; but as he turned towards the house and gazed full upon theaudience sitting in spellbound silence, the foot-lights fell full uponhis face, and she knew him!
She knew him--that was enough! What he said or did, she knew not--carednot. She sat with her gaze fastened full upon him. She recked not whythat alone seemed enough. A strange trance that was half dream fellupon her. She gazed, and gazed, and gazed.
"Good lack, but the fellow is the very mirror of my husband! I had notbelieved it, had I not seen it with mine own eyes." The voice of theDuchess was clearly heard above the clarion notes of the actor. She wasnot one to hush her tones, and she was not a little astonished by theperformance. Pleasure, gratification, and surprise were all writtenupon the hard but handsome features of the Queen's favourite; and everynow and again she would tap her long ivory fan with some vehemence uponthe back of the seat in front, and would exclaim aloud,--
"Vastly good! Vastly well done! Faith, but he is a pretty fellow, andknows what he is about. I must have speech with him. I would learnmore of this. Beshrew me, but the Duke must see this when he returns!"
This loud-voiced praise could not but reach the ears of the actors, andthey could not fail to know who it was that spoke. All knew that theDuchess was to be present, as a special mark of good will andcondescension, and that she should speak such open praise seemed to seta seal upon the success of the entertainment. Lady Romaine could scarcecontain herself for delight.
Geraldine still sat as in a maze of bewildered happiness. It was nottill just as the performance was closing that she was awakened from hertrance, and that somewhat rudely. The last words of the interlude werebeing spoken. Father Time and the Youth were standing together makingtheir last speeches to the audience, and she was gazing with all hereyes into the face of one whom she alone out of all
the company hadrecognized, when one of the lanterns overhead, insecurely fastened,burnt its way loose, and fell flaring and blazing upon the light trainof her dress. Instantly she was in a blaze. The flames shooting up madea glare all over the house, and a hundred piercing shrieks attested theterror of the ladies at the sight.
But one had seen even before the flames shot up. Already the young actorhad leaped like a deer to the floor of the house; in a moment he hadreached the side of the lady. He had caught up in his hands a great rugwhich was picturesquely flung over the throne of Father Time, and beforeany other person in the room had recovered presence of mind sufficientto stir, he had the flaming figure wrapped round in this rug, and hadborne it out through the half-open door into the safety of the grassygarden without, where, laying his burden down upon the ground tenderly,despite his haste, he was quickly able to stifle the flames andextinguish the last spark.
He bent over her, his face white and ghastly in the moonlight.
"You are not hurt--say you are not hurt!"
"I think not; you were so quick--so quick. How can I thank you?"
Her eyes looked into his; it was just one moment before the people camerushing out upon them in a frantic crowd. But that moment was theirown. They looked into each other's eyes, and a thrill passed from heartto heart that never could be forgotten. Out rushed Lord Romaine, franticwith anxiety; out followed a motley crowd--some weeping, some gasping,some exclaiming, some even laughing in hysterical excitement. Greystood up suddenly, and slipped away like a wraith in the moonlight.
Lord Romaine bent tenderly over his daughter, who was struggling to herfeet, still encumbered by the folds of the great rug. She wasdishevelled, her dress was torn and burnt, she held the folds of thecovering wrap about her still; but her voice was only a little tremulousas she clung to her father's arm.
"I am not hurt; no, I am sure I am not. The hot breath of the fire justscorched for a moment; but then it was crushed out.. Please send thepeople away. I do not want to be stared at. I am not hurt. Pleasetake me in, and let me go to my own room."
"Bless me, but what a pretty kettle of fish!" cried a loud and imperiousvoice. "Let me see the child and be sure she is all safe. Ha, thereyou are, my pretty white bird! A nice scare you gave us all wrappedabout in a ring of fire like--who was the woman?--Brynhild, or some suchoutlandish name. But it was a fine ending to the drama. We have notquite lost our heroes yet. My faith, how he leaped down! He must haveseen it before any of the rest of us. Well, well, well; it is a goodthing that his fine show of bravery was not all in words. He is amettlesome youth, and deserves the praise of the town. He will be morethe hero of the hour than ever. Where is the boy? I would have speechof him myself."
The Duchess looked about her; but no one like the Youth was to be seen.He had vanished altogether; but, doubtless, he would be somewhere on theplace, and could be fetched to receive the thanks of the parents and thecompliments of the Duchess.
It was too cold to stand out in the moonlight, and there was a generalmove towards the house, Geraldine still clinging to her father's arm,avoiding the shrill questions, comments, and congratulations of thecompany, and shrinking back especially when Lord Sandford would haveapproached.
"The luck was not for me to-night," he said; "nevertheless, give me thechance, Lady Geraldine, and you shall see what I will do. But thatactor chap shall not lose his reward for his promptitude. I will see tothat."
She started as though she had been stung.
"My lord, do not insult him!"
He stared at her in amaze; but she slipped away and vanished like awraith. He strode moodily about the rooms, joining in the generalinquiry after the young actor whom the Duchess had sent for; but theservants came back after some time to say that the young man could notbe found. He seemed to have disappeared into thin air.
Fallen Fortunes Page 13
