Wych Hazel Part 77

The man drew it up again, and let it fall again, and again drew it up.

'Very good,' he said approvingly. 'Very good. We have no such clever curtains in my country. That will do very well.'

As he spoke, a bell sounded through the house. Immediately the witch escaped by a side door. Two or three others followed her; and then the rest of the company began to pour in and fill the saloon before the red curtain.

'Well, I never _was_ so stupid in all my life!' said the court beauty. 'I might have _known_ no other girl would come as a roll of serge!'

'And I might have known, that if I failed to recognize Miss Kennedy's hand, it could be only because it was out of sight,'

said Mr. Kingsland, who by special favour wore only his own face and dress.

'You'll get a mitten from her hand--and a slap in it, if you don't look out,' said the lady.

'Better a mitten from that hand than a glove from any other,'

replied Mr. Kingsland with resignation.

'Easier for you to get,' the beauty retorted. 'But did you hear of the fun we had the other night?--the best joke! We all put Seaton up to it, and he carried it off well. d.i.c.k wouldn't. Before the dancing began, he went up to Miss Kennedy and asked her with his gravest face whether she felt guardian's orders to be binding? And she coloured all up, like a child as she is, and inquired who wanted to know? So Seaton bowed down to the ground almost, and said he--

' "I had the honour of asking Mr. Rollo this afternoon, concerning the drive we spoke of; and he gave me an emphatic no. And now I am come to you to reverse the decision."

'Well, you should have seen her face!--and "_What_ did he say, Major Seaton?" she asked. "As near as I can remember," said Seaton with another bow, "he said, Sir I cannot possibly allow Miss Kennedy to take any such drive as you propose!" '

'Well?--' said Mr. Kingsland,--'I have heavy wagers out on Miss Kennedy's dignity.'

'I don't know what you call dignity,' said the beauty,--'I didn't know at first but she would knock him down for his information,--she did, with her eyes. And then my lady d.u.c.h.ess drew herself up as grand as could be, and answered just as if she didn't care a snap,--"Did Mr. Rollo say that, Major Seaton?

Then I certainly shall not go." '

Mr. Kingsland clapped his hands softly. 'Safe yet,' he said.

'But where did Kitty pick up that name for her?' he added, turning to his next neighbour. 'You are in the way of such t.i.tles.'

'Kitty won't tell,' the lady answered, an elaborate Queen Elizabeth. 'Not at present. She found out n.o.body understood, but Miss Kennedy does, so now she holds it over Miss Kennedy's head that she _will_ tell. That is the way she got her before the gla.s.s the other night.'

'The tenderness these gentle creatures have for each other!'

said Mr. Kingsland.

Meantime a bustling crowd had been pouring in and filling the saloon, and there began to be a cry for silence. The curtain was down; by whom dropped no one knew; but now it was raised again by the proper attendants, and the sight of the cool green little stage brought people to their good behaviour. The silence of expectancy spread through the a.s.sembly.

Behind the scenes there was a trifle of delay.

'My dear child,' Mme. Lasalle whispered to the _ci-devant_ witch of Endor, 'Mr. Lasalle is in no condition to act with you as he promised. Ill; really ill, you know. We must take some one else. Standing about with bare feet don't agree with his const.i.tution. It won't matter.'

'It matters very much!' said Wych Hazel. 'O, well--just leave that charade out. There are enough more.'

'Indeed there are not!' exclaimed her hostess. 'We cannot spare this. Indeed I doubt if any other will be worth presenting after it. My dear, it makes no difference! and you are ready, and Stuart is ready, and the people are waiting.

You must not fail me at the pinch, Hazel. Go on and do your prettiest, for my sake.'

'Not with Mr. Nightingale. I will have little Jemmy Seaton, then. He is tall enough.'

'He couldn't do it. Nonsense, my dear! you don't mean that there is anything _serious_ in it? It is only a play, and a short one too; and Stuart will be, privately, a great improvement on Mr. Lasalle, who wouldn't have done it with spirit enough; as why should he? Come, go on! Stuart is not worse to play with than another, is he? Come! there's Mr.

Brandevin waiting for you. He's capital!'

There was no time to debate the matter; no time to make further changes; everybody was waiting; Miss Kennedy had to yield.

The first act was on this fas.h.i.+on. An old man in the blouse of a Normandy peasant sat smoking his pipe. Enter to him his daughter, a lovely peasant girl; Wych Hazel to wit. The father spoke in French; the daughter mingled French and English in her talk very prettily. There was some dumb show of serving him; and then the old man got up to go out, charging his daughter in the severest manner to admit no company in his absence. Scarcely is he gone, when enter on the other side a smart young man in the same peasant dress. Words here were not audible. In dumb show the young man made protestations of devotion, begged for his mistress's hand and kissed it with great fervour; and appeared to be carrying on a lively suit to the damsel. Now nothing could have been prettier than the picture and the pantomime. Stuart kept his face away from the audience; Wych Hazel was revealed, and in the coy, blus.h.i.+ng maidenly dignity and confusion which suited the character and occasion, was a tableau worth looking at. Well looked at, and in deep silence of the company; till suddenly the growling old French father is heard coming back again. The peasant starts to his feet, the girl sits down in terror.

'What shall I do?' he cries, and she echoes,--'What shall he do? What shall he do?'

Then came confused answers from the spectators:--'Bolt, old fellow!'--'Escape!'--'Fly!'--'Run!'--and the last word being taken up and re-echoed, 'Run! run!'--he _did_ run; ran out and then ran in and across the stage again; finally out of sight; and drop the curtain. The burst of applause was tremendous.

'You'll have to go on, you know, if that keeps up,' said Stuart behind the scenes; 'and I don't wonder. Here, Mr.

Brandevin, go in and stop them!'

The next scene was also very well done. The old French gentleman was alone, and had it all to perform by himself. He began with calling his daughter, in various discordant keys, and with such a variety of impatient and exasperated intonation, that the whole room was full of laughter. His daughter not appearing nor answering, he next inst.i.tuted a make-believe search for her, feigning to go into the kitchen, the b.u.t.tery, her bedroom. Not finding her, and making a great deal of amus.e.m.e.nt for the spectators by the way, he at last comes back and asks in a deploring tone, 'Where is she?'

Cries of 'Off!'--'Gone!'--'Sloped!'--'Away!' were such a medley that n.o.body professed to be able yet to make out the word. The curtain fell again.

'You are very stupid,' said Mme. Lasalle. 'It is as plain as possible.'

'It will be, when we see the rest,' said somebody. 'No, I don't think it is, either.'

For as he spoke, the curtain rose upon an old clergyman, busy with his books at a table with a lamp. He had a wig, and looked very venerable indeed. Presently to him comes, after a knock, his servant woman.

'Please, sir, here's a young couple wantin' to see ye. It's the old story, I expect.'

'Let them come, Sarah--let them come in!' says the old clergyman; 'the old story is the newest of all! Let them come,--but first help me on with my gown. So!--now you may open the door.'

Enter the old peasant's daughter and her lover. The latter confers with the old clergyman, who wheezes and puffs and is quite fussy; finally bids them stand before him in the proper position. The proper position, of course, brings the two people to face the audience, while the old clergyman's back was a little turned to them, and no loss.

Now the dislike with which Miss Kennedy had received the change of companions in this charade by no means lessened as the play went on. The first scene had annoyed her, the minute she had time to think it over during the solo of the second; and now finding herself face to face with ideas as well as people,--ideas that were not among her familiars,--was very disagreeable; all the more that Mr. Nightingale had contrived to infuse rather more spirit into his part of the performance than was absolutely needful. Wych Hazel looked unmistakeably disturbed, and her eyes never quitted the ground. The audience, quite failing to catch her mood, only applauded.

'Capital!' said General Merrick. 'Positively capital! If it was a real case, and she in momentary expectation of her father, she might look just so.'

'Or if she had accidentally escaped with the wrong person,'

said Captain Lancaster, who would have rather preferred to be in Mr. Nightingale's position himself.

'No,' said one of the ladies, 'she is not afraid,--what is she?'

'She is Wych Hazel,' said Mr. Kingsland. 'Do you see what a breath came then? Not complimentary to Nightingale--but he can find somebody else to turn his head.'

Meanwhile, they all standing so, the old clergyman began his office.

'Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?' he demanded audibly enough. And Stuart's reply came clear--

'I will.'

'Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband?'

He had turned towards the pretty peasant girl who stood there with her eyes cast down, and expectation was a-tiptoe. Before the eyes were lifted, and before an answer could be returned, another actor came upon the scene. The countryman who wore the dark blue cloth bound with crimson, stepped into the group from his place at the side of the curtain. He wore his broad- brimmed hat, but removed his domino as he came upon the stage.

Yet he stood so that the audience were not in position to see his face. They heard his voice.