"I am very much disappointed to hear you say so. I thought you would agree with me so cordially that I was unfit to represent a knave as soon as I had expounded my theory to you." "Your theory is nonsense," repeated Mrs. Winnington with decision. "Really, Marescalchi, I am afraid it won't hold water in the present instance," chimed in Mr. Stanniforth. "I take it that I am about the worst actor of the lot, and you have given me the most important part in the piece." "Nobody can say which is the most. important part until the piece has been played," answered Philip oracularly. "We are all going to do our best; but we can't do justice to ourselves if the square pegs are put into the round holes." Further protests were entered from various quarters; but as Philip stood firm, and declared that unless he were allowed to have his own way he would not act at all, he carried his point in the end. As the council broke up, he took an opportunity of whispering to Walter, "There, old man; don't say I never did you a good turn." "I don't know what you mean," said Walter. "Of course you don't," returned Philip, laughing, and walking away. That Philip had meant by this strange allotment of rôles merely to carry out his whimsical theory was what nobody believed, nor did it occur to any one that he had been actuated by a good-natured desire to give two young lovers the occasion of playing husband and wife; but what was indeed his object seemed somewhat obscure. Only Margaret had formed a surmise upon the matter; and it was one which was not displeasing to her. She told him afterwards that he ought to be ashamed of himself. "You have spoilt the play," she said, frowning and smiling upon him; "and Nellie will not thank you, you may be sure. If she was to have a fictitious husband for one evening, you surely need not have objected to Walter's being the man." Philip seemed greatly amused. "Oh, Meg, Meg," he cried, "what a designing old match-maker you are becoming! I haven't spoilt the play a bit; it will be the greatest success that ever was known; and in the mean time you are as good as a dozen plays, all of you. What criminal folly are you allowing your brains to hatch, you improvident woman? Do you know she won't have a penny, ma'am?" sighed "Ah, Philip!" sighed money is not everything." 66 Margaret; One No; nor is love everything. wants a happy combination of the two, I suppose, and that is not easy to achieve, Not that I am in love with Nellie Brune; and heaven forbid that I should suppose her capable of falling in love with so unworthy an object as myself. Don't you see that I can't afford to fall in love with her?" "A man can always make an income for himself," said Margaret. "Can he? I think I know some men who have a fatal power of spending twice as much as they are likely ever to earn. Don't build castles, Meg; it's a shocking bad habit. Or, if you must build them, build them for yourself, not for other people. Otherwise they will come tum. bling down about your poor ears, roofs, and battlements, and all, one of these fine days; and when I come to dig you out of the ruins, you will turn and revile me, and say it was all my fault." She shook her head. "No; I shall never say that." "Ah! you don't know what you will say. Let us get back to our play-acting; it's a thousand times more satisfactory a game than real life." Whether satisfactory or not to the majority of the performers, the fashion after which Philip had chosen to conduct his play-acting was productive of immense amusement to one at least of those who attended the subsequent rehearsals. Mr. Brune perfectly understood, and to some extent participated in, the half goodhumored, half malicious, pleasure which Marescalchi derived from the spectacle of incongruity; and in truth, Tom Stanniforth, pacing the stage with creaking boots, and giving utterance in a loud hearty voice to the most outrageous and immoral sentiments, was a legitimate subject for mirth of the quieter kind. Tom had thrown himself into his task with all his wonted energy; he had learnt by heart every word he had to say; he was submitting with much docility to be edu Icated into the semblance of a base deceiver; and there really seemed to be every chance that he would eventually pull through quite as successfully as a painstaking man without a vestige of histrionic talent could be expected to do. He had, however, a way of frowning and shaking his head after each cynical soliloquy - as though he felt it incumbent upon him to offer some gentle reminder that it was a purely fictitious personage, One afternoon Mrs. Winnington joined him, and asked him whether he did not think it was a great deal too bad that everybody's pleasure should be interfered with, and a good play turned into a positive farce, only in order to gratify the whim of a spoilt boy. "Mr. Stanniforth is so accommodating and kind that he would do anything that he was asked to do," she said; "but it is easy to see that he has been forced into accepting a thoroughly uncongenial part." "But he does it so well," Mr. Brune remarked. not by any means Tom Stanniforth, who | Nellie Brune, who was a very fair actress, was speaking-which was irresistibly and had had some previous experience to comical. Mr. Brune would sit in a cor- guide her, would have done well even ner, watching this conscientious actor and without coaching; and as for the others, laughing softly to himself, by the hour to- if their instructor could not give them gether. talent, he had at least taught them how to stand and sit, how to manage their voices, and how to get off the stage. He had also taken much pains with the subordinate personages, whose names and characters need not be particularized here, showing them every opportunity of making a point, and gently fanning their self-love with many a judicious word of surprise and admiration. And all the time he had held his own part in reserve. His duties as general instructor had furnished him with an excuse for reading rather than acting his share of the dialogue, and perhaps he had designedly kept himself in the background up to the last moment; for he had not a soul above small effects. Even the country gentlemen who, with their wives and families, made up the bulk of the audience, and whose critical faculties were scarcely likely to be of a sensitive order, could not but perceive and wonder at the skill with which he transformed a ludicrous and undignified part into a pathetic one; and that without missing a particle of its humor, or being guilty of the smallest exaggeration. Those who applauded so loudly could not have given very definite reasons for their applause perhaps; but it was vaguely borne in upon them that they were being treated to the spectacle of a tour de force, and it put them in good humor, and made them feel how clever they must be to have discovered that much. "Do you think so? Well, I can't agree with you. He is doing his utmost certainly; he would be sure to do that. But for Mr. Stanniforth to attempt to personate selfishness and duplicity is quite absurd. He is too - too what shall I say?" "Genuine?" suggested Mr. Brune resignedly. 66 Exactly so: he is far too genuine for that kind of thing. Now young Marescalchi "Oh, but he is genuine, too-in his way. He is a genuine humorist; you must allow that." "How so? I don't quite understand you. To my mind he is simply mischievous and malevolent. To put the play upon the stage in the way that he is doing is to insult the intelligence of his audience." "On the contrary, he is paying a high compliment to the delicacy of your perceptions. He is going to offer you a really fine piece of comedy in the place of a rather dull play; and you ought to be grateful to him." "It appears that your notions of comedy and humor differ from mine," said Mrs. Winnington, who disliked Mr. Brune, and suspected him, not without reason, of sometimes laughing at her. Nevertheless, when the day of representation came, Mrs. Winnington was compelled to add a grudging contribution to the general plaudits, and to confess that the result belied her anticipations. Philip had done wonders with his somewhat unpromising troupe. Patiently and carefully had he drilled them, day after day, and evening after evening, and now his labor met with its just recompense. It was one of Philip's rules to study every part that he undertook from observation of some living model: all true art ists adopted that plan, he declared, and all art was nothing but imitation. In the present instance he had been pleased to select Colonel Kenyon as the groundwork of his conception of a fond and foolish husband; and Margaret, who believed herself to be alone in detecting this de tail, and who was somehow a little pained by it, was compelled to acknowledge that the portrait was both a faithful and a suggestive one. Poor Hugh! it had never occurred to her before, but now it seemed obvious enough, that he was just the man to be led by the nose all his life by some woman. What a dismal instance of the irony of fate that she, who wanted to be led, and had no capacities for leading, should be that one! Once or twice it "Yes, I remember; why do you remind me of it? I thought you very unkind and unjust; and I still think that you were so." "I dare say I was. Partly so, at all flashed across her with a thrill of alarm that Philip might have some inkling of what she earnestly desired to keep secret forever. In her heart of hearts she was mortally afraid of being laughed at by Philip; and what son can hear without events; for I certainly should not accuse more or less of covert laughter that a man our young friend of lacking courage nowhas been making love to his mother? adays. I wonder, though-speaking She turned these things over in her mind quite in the abstract, you understand while Philip tugged at the long moustache whether it is possible for a first-rate actor which he had affixed to his upper lip, to be a thoroughly honest and straightforwhile he stretched out his legs, stuck his ward man. Don't come down upon me hands in his pockets, and debated simple with Macready and other honored names, propositions with an exact reproduction please; there must be exceptions to every of Hugh's slow and sapient smile; and rule; and, besides, honesty is a relative at the end of the first act she was as near-term. I know many highly respected and ly being angry with her adopted son as she had ever been in her life. Mr. Brune, who was sitting behind her, leant over the back of her chair, when the curtain fell, and startled her by remarking abruptly, "And yet there are people who won't be convinced that we are all descended from apes." 66 "Don't be unkind," pleaded Margaret. Why not? I object to monopolies. Why should that very clever and diverting youth have things all his own way?" "I know what you mean; but it isn't meant for unkindness. There is nothing in it that could hurt any one's feelings." "H'm! I am not sure that Kenyon would quite agree to that. However, he is not here, so we need not trouble ourşelves about him. Let us be charitable, and assume that he would like it. For my part, I admit that I am enjoying it hugely." "Then don't call people apes," said Margaret. 66 Apes are very cheerful little beasts, and some of us, you know, make great pets of them. I will say, for yours, that he is an admirable specimen of the race." Margaret sighed impatiently. thought you had given up saying disagreeable things about Philip. You know how it pains me to hear you talk like that." respectable persons whom it would be unsafe to take literally; they couldn't be absolutely candid if their lives depended upon it." "I don't know what you are driving at," said Margaret, who, however, knew perfectly well. "I am not driving at anything; I am drifting agreeably upon a sea of doubt and speculation. Given a man with an extraordinary power of personating characters differing from his own, wouldn't it be rather a strange thing if he never made use of it off the stage?" "If you mean Philip, I can only say that he is always candid with me," declared Margaret, with some audacity. Ah, you won't stay in the regions of the abstract. Well, you ought to know whether Philip is candid or not. As for me, I am only a spectator; and perhaps I don't see so much of the game as I fancy I do. He is not particularly candid with me; but then a man does not forfeit his claim to straightforwardness by exercising a little reserve towards individuals. Moreover, he doesn't like me." "That is entirely your own fault," Mar"Igaret was going to say; but she bethought her that, if matters turned out according to her wishes, Mr. Brune would some day be asked to accept Philip as his son-inlaw; so she substituted: "I am sure you are mistaken. He may be a little afraid of you, perhaps; many people are, you know." "You ought not to mind what a sour old man says. Do you know that all my hops are mildewed, and that I shall be hundreds of pounds out of pocket by the end of the year? Let me have a little latitude of speech for one evening. Philip can't hear me, any more than Kenyon can hear him; and I am speaking to a lady who is not easily prejudiced. Do you remember how desperately I offended you by the language I used about your protégé on the first evening of his arrival, ever so long ago?" Probably there is no man living who is not secretly pleased at being told that he is feared. Mr. Brune smiled, and remarked that he had not supposed himself so alarming. Then the curtain rising upon the first scene of the second act put a stop to conversation, and Margaret returned to contemplation of the figure upon the stage which interested her the most. Philip's excellent mimicry of Colonel Kenyon provoked her no longer; she had fallen into a fresh train of thought, in which Hugh had no part; and while the plot of the comedy was unfolding itself, she was wondering whether the openmouthed adoration with which Philip was regarding Nellie could be altogether as sumed. a vice He had told her emphatically that he was not in love with Miss Brune; but he had given her to understand that he was not in love because he did not deem it prudent to allow himself to be so, and that seemed almost tantamount to a confession that only prudence held love in check. Moreover, notwithstanding the assertion which she had just made that Philip was always candid with her, Margaret very well knew that she did not possess his whole confidence. She was sometimes tormented by terrible fears on his behalf. He had no vices, she thought for extravagance cannot fairly be called but it is not always vicious men who make the most hopeless shipwreck of their lives; and, oddly enough, one of the chief dangers which she dreaded for him was precisely that which those who partook a less partial view of his character would have declared him utterly unlikely to incur that of a hasty marriage with some one inferior to him in rank. Philip's character, like that of most people, was marked by some apparent inconsistencies, and, also like that of most people, presented but few traits upon which any plausible theory of his fate could be built. One certain thing about him was that he would never be the victim of a hopeless passion. It was not in his nature to love those by whom he was not beloved, and on the other hand it was so delightful to him to be worshipped that he was likely to fall, at least for a time, completely under the dominion of the worshipper, whoever he or she might be. Thus much Margaret understood; though she did not put the case to herself quite in these words. She would have substituted generosity, impulsiveness, and quick sympa thies for the vanity and selfishness with which some of his intimates credited him; but the peril remained the same; and it was, among other reasons, because she discerned it that she so anxiously desired to make use of Nellie Brune as a beacon to divert Philip's eyes from the flickering will-o'-the-wisps that flank the path of all young men. It must be added that she conscientiously believed this fate to be an entirely honorable and blissful one for Nellie, whom she looked upon in some sort as her daughter, and loved with al! her heart. If the young lady who was thought worthy of being entrusted with such high responsibilities had been in the secret of Mrs. Stanniforth's scheme, she could have done no more towards the promotion of it than she was doing that evening. Everybody agreed that Miss Brune was charming. "She has been well coached," said her father, who hardly recognized Nellie in the brilliant and witty woman of the world whom she represented; but Philip, who admired all pretty women, and had always admired this one excessively, declared openly that she was irresistible, and told her in so many words that he wished to goodness he could summon some benevolent fairy to convert their mock destinies into a reality. More than once in the course of the proceedings he said to himself that if Nellie had had a large fortune, and if Fanny had married the greengrocer, as she ought to have done -if, in short, he had not been an unlucky beggar with whom all things went askew-he could have wished for no happier lot in life than that fictitious one which was his for a couple of hours. - There had always been a sort of intermittent flirtation between Philip and Nellie. During his school-days the former had been over head and ears in love with the pretty little tomboy who used to ride and fish and play cricket with him, and he had plainly declared his intention of making her his wife some day- an arrangement which she had promised to consider of. Later on, when Mr. Marescalchi had fallen under the sway of other feminine influences, his affection had assumed a more brotherly character, and he had been wont to make Miss Brune the confidante of the passions which had from time to time ravaged an inflammable heart. He had, however, been in the habit of returning to his loose allegiance at regular intervals, and had frequently given Nellie to understand that, despite some passing infidelities, there was but one woman in the world with whom he could seriously contemplate spending his life. Nellie took these periodical fits of devotion very much for what they were worth. To the best of her belief she was not at all in love with Philip, and her eyes were open to all his failings; but she had a strong affection for him, she was proud of what she considered her influence over him, and upon the whole she liked him better when he was pretending to be in love with her than when he was pretending to be in love with some one else. She understood bim sufficiently well to be aware that with him nearly all emotion was pretence, of a conscious or unconscious kind. To-night he was in one of his most lover-like moods. When the theatricals were over and dancing had begun, he publicly laid down the unreasonable proposition that those who had been united in the play which was at an end ought to remain partners for the rest of the evening; and before the dissentient groans which responded to him had died away he had passed his arm round Miss Brune's waist and whirled her off, whispering, "Just for this one evening, Nellie. You owe me some reward, you know, for all the trouble I have taken to help on your triumph." Nellie laughed, and did not say no. There was no one else present whom she particularly cared about dancing with, and Philip was beyond all comparison the best waltzer in the county. So, through three consecutive dances, this couple enjoyed an uninterrupted tête-à-tête, while Margaret looked on with contented eyes, and good-natured people remarked what a handsome pair they were, and ill-natured ones wondered what Mr. Brune could be thinking of to allow that sort of thing. Meanwhile, the member for Blackport was not in his usual state of happy acquiescence in the course of events. He bad danced once with Edith, who had said "Yes" and "No," and "Oh, really? when he had addressed her, and who evidently had not heard one word in ten of his conversation. He had then resigned her to Walter Brune, and had stood with his back against the wall, wrapped in somewhat sombre reflection. He began to think that, after all, Edith would hardly do. She was a sweet girl, and she had a pretty face, and that little, timid air of hers was attractive enough for a time; but she was not interesting: perhaps she was a trifle insipid. Just as he arrived at this conclusion he caught sight of her engaged in animated discourse with Walter, and, for the first time in his life, he experienced an uncomfortable impression that he was growing old. After which he glanced at Philip and Nellie, and felt older still. Finally he said to himself, rather inconsequently, that he didn't see any reason why the young fellows should have everything their own way, and, crossing the room with the firm stride of decision, planted himself in front of Miss Brune. "May I be honored with a dance?" he asked. Fortune favors the brave. Nellie hesitated for a moment, looked him straight in the face, and then gave a little bow. What she meant him to understand was that he had no business to make such a request; but that, since he had thought fit to make it, she would not be rude enough to meet him with a refusal; but it is doubtful whether he gathered so much as that from her face. "I was afraid," said he, after he had twice made the circuit of the room, and his partner had signified to him that she was out of breath, "that you would dismiss me with ignominy. I wasn't quite sure whether our truce was to last up to bedtime, or to terminate when the curtain fell." During the rehearsals, when Mr. Stanni. forth had been compelled to meet his implacable foe every day, it had been agreed between them that, for the comfort of all concerned, it would be best that they should behave as friends for the time being, and out of this convention had sprung a considerable degree of intimacy which Nellie now felt that it would be rather absurd to put a stop to. "You seem determined to reopen that disagreeable subject," she said. "I? Indeed, Miss Brune, I should only be too glad to dismiss it forever. Is it peace, then?" 66 Well," answered Nellie slowly, "I suppose so. If, after all my rudeness and ill-temper, you care to make peace with me, I don't think I ought to refuse." "Ah!" cried Stanniforth, with rather imprudent exultation; "I told you we should be friends before long." Nellie drew up her slight figure, and looked displeased. "Oh, but excuse me, I said nothing about friendship. There may be such a thing as peace between enemies, may there not?" "A peace of that kind is not likely to be very durable, I am afraid. Still, it may last my time. I don't think I shall be much longer in this house, do you know." Nellie said, "Indeed?" "I think I shall be off in a day or two, and I am very sorry for it. I must say so, since you won't. Between ourselves, I fancy that Margaret wants to get rid of me. "Why should she wish that?" |