be, so not a moment was to be lost. I rose
softly, put back my chair as softly; but she
had my arm again, gripped in a moment (she
had great strength for a woman). "Sit down,"
she said.
"I am really sorry," I said.
"Sit down," she repeated, in a low and more
decided tone, "or it will be worse for you.
I can see what you would do; but if you
stir again, BY THE LIVING SAPERLOTTE——"
"What she meant by this awful and most
profane oath, I cannot now tell. I suppose
it answers to our LIVING JINGO, which is
forcible enough in its way. But, strange to say,
it had completely the effect of intimidating
me. I sat stupified.
A scratching at the door and a little clatter.
The box-keeper—the real one. "This is the
box-keeper," I said, softly, wishing to set her
right gently as to her little mistake.
"What does it matter?" she said, contemptuously.
"If there were dozens of ye, I would
not stir! If you speak to him so much as a
word——"
He spoke to me, though, and put a letter
into my hand.
"Box Number Twenty?" he said.
"Quite right," I said.
From Mrs. Mantower. It ran:
"DEAR EDGAR. All is well again. The
little cable did wonders. Darling Isabelle
always listens to reason, and, I think, admits she
was hasty. Look out for a little surprise.
Mum. "HENRIETTA MANTOWER."
Here was a situation! What was to become
of me?
"Look at them again," she said, " whispering
—exchanging vows, soft nothings. Oh, if
I could only——"
What was I to do? An idea struck me.
"You might go over and surprise them," I said.
"It would fall on the guilty pair like a thunderbolt.
They would wish the earth to open and
cover them, and——"
"The earth?" she interrupted, quickly.
"Where?"
"I mean the flooring," I said. "It is the
only course. Lose not a moment—not a
second; you will be only just in time."
She looked at me scornfully. "Folly, folly.
What can you know of my troubles—a creature
like you, that lives in a paltry world of tickets
and clothes-presses like this?" she added, looking
up. "No, I shall wait it all out; never take
my eyes from them; and then at the end you
shall see——"
Things were growing desperate. Even if I
burst from her with violence, at the risk of
disturbing the theatre by a scuffle, it would
not mend the matter. They would arrive all
the same, be shown to Box Twenty—for there
was no other vacant—hear from the real box-
keeper that I had been there and had gone
away, "and had left the lady behind." What
was to be done? An idea struck me—surely a
Heaven-sent inspiration. She was full of passion
and fervour, and had generous feelings. I
would tell her my little story hurriedly.
"Look here," I said (an invitation she took
no notice of). "Look here. I throw myself
on your consideration, and I am sure you will
take pity on me. Mine is a very peculiar
position, and you are in part accountable. A lady
to whom I am engaged to be married will
arrive here in a moment—nay, may now be in
the lobby. She is jealous and excitable, and I
need not say," I added, with a gallant bow,
"that the presence of a lady of such surpassing
charms as I now see before me would justify
her in the worst suspicions. She is wealthy; I
am poor. The whole will be at an end if she
comes. Be generous, then, and leave me while
there is time."
She turned to me for the first time and
smiled.
"There is some comfort always left to us,
and I can at least inflict on others the torture
that others have inflicted on me. I am glad to
hear this. My peace and happiness shall not
be the only peace and happiness to be wrecked
in this world. I am glad you have told me. I
love to be cruel and vindictive. Ah, look—
look! They have seen me at last!" And she
threw back the curtains and boldly exposed to
view all her splendid charms.
She flashed out upon the house a miracle of
beauty and defiance. I could see that they did
see her—the hooked-nose man and his param—
I mean the lady with him. More opera-
glasses were directed at us from all sides,
including the opera-glass of the captain and the
Irish clergyman (they had only one between
them, and they used it alternately).
"What does the world think now?" she said,
triumphantly—"what does the house think?
Would it compare his pale-faced leman——"
"Beg pardon," I said.
"—His leman," she repeated, "with me?
But I will wring his heart yet, for he is as
jealous as any tiger. Though he can indulge
himself, his pride does not stomach my doing
so. See, he is troubled already. I'll wring
him yet. A good idea. Sit forward—well
forward."
"I don't quite understand——"
"Sit forward," she said, hoarsely, "and do
you as you are bid. If you stir an inch, BY THE
LIVING SAP——"
Scared at her desperate manner, I did as I
was bid, and sat well forward. She threw on me,
I assure you, one of the most rapturous and—
may I be forgiven the expression, but really it
is the only one adequate?—voluptuously Eastern
smiles that could be conceived.
Her face was bent over to me with a
languishing look that really fascinated me. What
could she mean? Her voice—it was rather
hoarse—was whispering to me:
"Smile at me. Speak to me as if tenderly—
as though you were worshipping me."
"But, really——"
"Make as though you were going to sink
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