Chapter XLII: At the Theatre

Lord Earlshope and Lady Drum had been carelessly chatting at the window when the Whaup and Coquette drew near. They saw them walking up the slopes of the Park to the house, and Earlshope said--

"What a handsome fellow Tom Cassilis has grown! I have never seen any young fellow alter so rapidly."

"Has he not?" said Lady Drum, with a little touch of pride--for she fancied that both these young people somehow belonged to her. "I should like to see them married."

It is possible that this artless confession on the part of the old lady was put out as a feeler. She liked Tom Cassilis well enough; but, being mortal and a woman, she must have wondered sometimes whether Coquette might not wed a lord--especially a lord who had frequently betrayed his admiration for her. But, when she said this, Earlshope betrayed no surprise. He merely said--

"They will make a handsome pair; and many a man will envy young Cassilis his good fortune."

Lady Drum was a trifle disappointed. Was there no mystery at all, then, connected with those romantic episodes in the Highlands? Lord Earlshope talked of her protégée as if she were merely some ordinary country girl who was about to marry and become the mistress of a household; whereas all the men she had heard talk of Coquette spoke of her as something rare and wonderful. Lady Drum was almost sorry that she had asked him to join them at the theatre that evening; but she reflected that, if Lord Earlshope were so indifferent, the peaceful progress of the two cousins towards marriage was rendered all the more secure. She only thought that Coquette would have made a beautiful and charming hostess to preside over the hospitalities of Earlshope.

"Ho, ho!" said Lady Drum, when Coquette came down to dinner dressed for the theatre. "We hae made our toilette something just quite extraordinary. Mr. Thomas is a fortunate lad to hae so much done for him."

"I do not dress for him, or for any one," said Coquette, with an air of calm magnificence.

This going to the theatre was quite an excitement for Coquette, who had not visited any such place of amusement since she left France. Lady Drum warned her not to say anything about it in her letters to Airlie, or the chances were that the Minister would order her recall from Glasgow at once.

"And my cousin," said Coquette, "has he never been to any theatre?"

"That is more than I can say," remarked Lady Drum, with a smile.

When at length they drove down to the big building, and went up the broad staircase, and got into the corridor, there was an odour of escaped gas and a confused sound of music which quite delighted Coquette--it was so like the odour and the sound prevalent in the theatres she had visited long ago in France. And when they got into the box, which was the biggest in the theatre, they found the Whaup already there, with two bouquets awaiting Lady Drum and Coquette. Lady Drum, naturally taking the place of honour, was perhaps a little glad to screen herself in her corner by the curtains; but Coquette, with the calm air of a princess, and with her brilliant toilette getting a new splendour from the gleaming lights of the house, took her seat, and lifted her bouquet, and made the Whaup a pretty speech of thanks which filled his heart with pleasure; then she turned her attention to the stage.

"Shall I ever be able," said the Whaup to himself, as he looked wistfully at her, "to give her pretty dresses like that, and buy her pearls for her neck and her hair, and take her to all the amusements?"

The young gentleman was rather proud; and would not even acknowledge to himself that Coquette could buy pearls for herself and pay for far more amusements than she cared to see.

The performances need not be described in detail. They consisted, in the first place, of a romantic drama of the good old kind, in which a lot of very pronounced characters--whose virtues and vices they took every opportunity of revealing to the audience--did impossible things in impossible places and talked a language unfamiliar to any nation at present inhabiting the earth. This piece was to be followed by a burlesque, for which Sir Peter professed himself to be impatient.

"For," said he, "there is in every burlesque a young lady with a saucy face and pretty ankles, with whom you can fall in love for an hour or two with impunity. And I am anxious for her appearance; because Miss Coquette has quite deserted me, and I am left out in the cold."

The truth is, Coquette had discovered in her cousin a quite astonishing familiarity with this theatre. He was acquainted with all its arrangements, and seemed to know the name of everybody in connection with it. Now, how had he gained this knowledge?

"Oh, I do see that the life of the students is not all study," Coquette remarked, with a gracious sarcasm; "you do sometimes find them singing 'Come lasses and lads,' and they do waste time with tobacco and laughing, and even know a good deal about the actresses of the theatre. Why was none of that in your letters to Airlie?"

"Well, I'll tell you the truth, Coquette," said the Whaup, with a laugh and a blush that became his handsome face well, "I dared not tell anybody at Airlie I went to the theatre; nor do I think I should have gone in any case but for a notion I had that, somehow or other, you must like the theatre. You never told me that, you know, but I guessed it from--from--from--"

"From my manner, or my talk? You do think me like an actress, then?"

"No, it is not that at all," said the Whaup. "You are too sincere and simple in your ways. But somehow I thought that, with your having been brought up in the south, and accustomed to a southern liking for enjoyment and artistic things, and with your sympathy for fine colours, and for music, and all that--why, I thought, Coquette, you would be sure to like the theatre; and so, do you know, I used to come here very often--not here, of course, but away up there to that dark gallery--and I used to sit and think what the theatre would be like when Coquette came to see it."

He spoke quite shyly; for, indeed, he half fancied she might laugh at those romantic dreamings of his when he was far away from her in the big city; but when he ventured to steal a glance at her face, lo! the soft dark eyes were quite moist. And she pretended to look down into the circle of flowers he had given her, and said in a low voice--

"You have been thinking of me very much when I was down in Airlie, and you here by yourself. I do not deserve it--but I will show my gratitude to you some day."

"Why, Coquette," he said, "you need not thank me for it. Only to think of you was a pleasure to me--the only pleasure I had all that long winter time."

Had Lady Drum heard the whispered little sentences which passed between these two young folks, she might, perhaps, have thought that they expressed more genuine emotion than the bursts of rhetoric in which, on the stage, the lucky lover was declaring his passion for the plump and middle-aged heroine. But they took care she should hear nothing of it.

Presently in came Lord Earlshope with his crush-hat under his arm; and he, also, had brought two bouquets. The Whaup noticed, with a passing twinge of mortification, that these were far finer and more delicate flowers than he had been able to buy, and he expected to see his own poor gifts immediately laid aside. But he did not know Coquette. She thanked Lord Earlshope very graciously for the flowers, and said how fortunate it was he had brought them.

"For I always do like to throw a bouquet to the actress after her long evening's work, yet I was becoming sorry to give her the flowers that my cousin did bring me. But you have brought one for her, too, if I may give it to her?"

"Why, of course," said Earlshope, who probably did not put such value on a handful of flowers as did the Whaup: "and when you wish to give it her, let me pitch it on the stage, or you will probably hit one of the men in the orchestra."

"But you must keep them for the young lady of the burlesque," said Sir Peter; "she is always better-looking than the heroine of the drama, isn't she, isn't she? Then you have a greater opportunity of judging."

"Why?" said Lady Drum, with a look of such severity as effectually to prevent her husband answering--instead, he turned away and gaily hummed something about

"Ecoutez la leçon
Qui vous fait Henriette."

But there was another woman in the theatre who had attracted their attention before Lord Earlshope had arrived. She was seated in the corner of the box opposite; and, as a rule, was hidden behind the curtain. When they did get a glimpse of her, her manner and appearance were so singular as to attract a good deal of attention. She was of middle height, stout, with rather a florid face, coal-black hair, and a wild, uncertain look, which was seldom fixed on any object for two minutes together. Oddly enough, she stared over at Coquette in rather a peculiar way; until that young lady studiously kept her eyes on the stage, and did not again glance towards the opposite box.

"Singular-looking woman, isn't she?" said Sir Peter. "Opium, eh? eh? Is that opium that makes her eyes so wild? She drinks, I swear, and seems mad with drink, eh? eh? What do you say, Cassilis?"

"I wish you would not talk of that person," said Lady Drum; and then the conversation dropped.

About a quarter of an hour after Lord Earlshope had come into the theatre, this woman apparently retired from her corner behind the curtain; then she walked forward from the back of the box to the front of it; and there stood at full length, looking over, with an odd expression of amusement on her face, at the group in front of Lady Drum's box. The movement was noticed by the whole theatre; and certainly it was noticed by Lord Earlshope; for, during one second, his eyes seemed to be fixed on this woman; and then, still regarding her, he retreated a step or two from the front of the box, with his face becoming deadly white.

"What is the matter?" said Lady Drum, anxiously--for he had been speaking to her--"you have become very pale--are you ill?"

"Lady Drum, I wish to speak with you privately for a moment," he said, quite calmly, but with a singular constraint of manner that somewhat alarmed her.

She rose at once, and followed him into the corridor outside. There he stood, apparently quite composed and yet still very pale.

"Would you mind taking Miss Cassilis home at once?" he said.

"Take her home! Why?"

"I cannot tell you why," he said, with some show of anxiety and impatience. "I cannot tell you why; but I wish, Lady Drum, you would. I beg you--I entreat you to take her away instantly!"

"But why?" said the old lady, who was at once perplexed and alarmed.

"You saw that woman opposite," said Lord Earlshope, rather abandoning the calmness of his demeanour. "She will come round here presently--I know she will--she will go into the box--she will insult Miss Cassilis: for Heaven's sake, Lady Drum, get her out of the way of that woman!"

"Bless me!" said Lady Drum, elevating her eyebrows, "are we a' to be frightened out o' our wits by a mad woman, and three men wi' us? And if there was no one wi' us," she added, drawing herself up, "I am not afraid of the girl being insulted if she is under my care; and what for should any woman, mad as she may be, fasten upon us? My certes! I will see that she does not come near the girl, or my name is not Margaret Ainslie!"

For a moment or two Lord Earlshope stood irresolute, with mortification and dismay plainly evident on his pale features; then he said, suddenly--

"I must tell you at once, Lady Drum. I have many a time determined to do so--but put it off until now--when I can be silent no longer. That woman in the theatre just now, a woman soddened and mad with brandy--is my wife--at least, she was my wife some years ago. Goodness knows, I have no reason to be afraid of her but one--it is for the sake of Miss Cassilis I beg of you, Lady Drum--to take her away--out of her reach--she is a woman of outrageous passions--a scene in a public place will have all the excitement of a new sort of drunkenness for her----"

To all these incoherent ejaculations, Lady Drum only replied--

"Your wife!"

"This is not a time to blame me for anything," he said, hurriedly. "I cannot give you any explanations just now. You don't know why I should have concealed my marriage with this horrible woman--but you will not blame me when you hear. All I want is to secure Miss Cassilis' safety."

"That," said Lady Drum, with firmness, "is secure enough in my keeping. You need not be afraid, Lord Earlshope--she is quite secure where she is."

"You mean to keep her in the theatre?"

"Most certainly."

"Then I will go. If I leave, that woman's mood may change; but I see from her laughing to herself that she means mischief. I cannot charge my own wife at the police-court."

He left the theatre there and then. Lady Drum returned to the box, and made some sort of apology for his departure. But she did not see much of what was going on upon the stage; for her thoughts were busy with many strange things that she now recollected as having been connected with Lord Earlshope; and sometimes she turned from Coquette's face to glance at the box opposite. Coquette was thoroughly enjoying the piece; the woman in the opposite box remained hidden, and was apparently alone.