Page:Once a Week Volume V.djvu/373

 366 pointed at the elaborate shirt-front of the hapless Vincent.

“Minions of a tyrant!” cried Vincent, laughing. “I am willing to risk my life for Miss Temple’s sake—I’ve important intelligence for her.”

“Pray, gentlemen, let him speak before he dies,” pleaded Lilian.

The swords were dropped.

“I’ve come to save your dress from piracy—you must register the design instantly; half a dozen girls in my hearing have resolved to steal the idea for Mrs. Vernon’s fancy dress ball.”

“Many thanks for the information; but as the dress was specially designed for me, it can suit no one else, unless—yes, there’s Margaret Vernon, who’s got hair exactly like mine: it really will be too bad if she copies it.”

“Don’t accuse me, Lilian, of betraying your secret,” said Scott, laughing. “I was sworn to secrecy when you told me between the acts.”

“If the freedom of the green-room is not instantly presented to me,” exclaimed Vincent, affecting an air of intimidation, “I shall seek an interview with Miss Vernon.”

“Rash man!” cried the critic: “recollect it’s in Miss Temple’s discretion to order the ‛supers’ to cut you down.”

The elaborate shirt-front was again menaced by the two swords and the dagger.

“Let him be pardoned, gentlemen,” said Lilian, waving aside the swords, “on condition of his instantly procuring me a glass of water, for I’m dying of thirst.”

“I fancy that’s the state of us all,” said Scott.

“It’s our own fault then,” observed the critic, “for there stands the champagne! By the way, Scott, when you do the play again, if I might venture to suggest, when Marie pours out the wine for the soldiers, she should stand at the back of the table facing the audience, and the soldiers should clink their glasses, stretching them towards her at the chorus of the song. In this way,—Miss Temple, please to take the glass.”

“Oh, not champagne, thank you;—seltzer water, please, my head’s whirling enough already.”

“Now, gentlemen,” continued the critic, “fill your glasses. This table will show what I mean. Lead the chorus, Miss Temple.”

Of light and shade

Life is made.

On the morrow,

Joy or sorrow.

With wine to drink,

Who cares to think?

Clink, clink, clink,—

Let the glasses clink, clink, clink.”

“Bravo!” cried the critic, delighted at having found something to alter and amend. “You see, Scott, you get twice the effect this way, and it forms a sort of tableau with Miss Temple in the centre of the group when the curtain falls. With regard to the song, it’s the old story of ‛poeta nascitur. ”

“I prohibit any man from twisting a wretched pun out of non fit,” cried Scott; “I know that fellow Vincent would have done it if I had not mercifully stopped him.”

Vincent seized a wooden dagger, but was luckily disarmed before Scott had fallen a victim to his very justifiable ire.

Lilian’s maid came to her, and whispered in her ear.

“Lilian!” exclaimed Scott, observing her as he turned from his mortal combat with Vincent, “you really do want something—you’ve gone through immense fatigue.” He poured out a glass of champagne. “I insist on your drinking this before you change your dress; the excitement keeps you up now, but we must recollect the deux temps that have to be danced after the play.”

“No, no, Frank, let me go; I must—”

“The dagger or the bowl,” said Scott, playfully brandishing the weapon he had taken from Vincent.

Lilian in haste drank off the champagne—it tasted like water.

“Put my burnous over me, Jane,” and Lilian, concealing her dress, hurried from the room to welcome her lover, George Newton.

“She is an out-and-out girl,” exclaimed Vincent in tones of admiration to Scott.

“You’re perfectly right, my friend.”

“I’d venture a small bet, old boy,” whispered Vincent, “that you’re over head and ears—”

“What on earth’s the use—she’s engaged?”

“I can’t fancy her caring for a man like Newton—I’ve met him here once or twice.”

“She’s stuck to him like a brick though; I know there were plenty of people who wanted her to give him up after that bank affair.”

“It’s deuced hard,” remarked Vincent; “but some girls always get the reputation of being flirts just because they’re rather jolly.”

“The world is particularly hard upon jolly girls,” replied Scott. “Why, I’ve already been pitched into, half a dozen times, for trying to get her to break with Newton. Hollo, Samuels! is everybody ready for ‛Rumpelstiltskin?’ Then ring for the orchestra: you’d better go in front, Vincent, to see the burlesque; I think you’ll say it’s very funny.”

“Dear George!” cried Lilian as she entered the room—she thought he would have clasped her in his arms, but he turned from her with a slight gesture. She understood what he meant.

“But my lips, George, there’s nothing there!” She snatched up a towel, and dipping it in the water-jug, rubbed her face. She saw he looked askance at her dress—the burnous had fallen from her shoulders.

“George, dear, I came the moment I heard you were here—they hadn’t told me of it, indeed they hadn’t, till this moment—I wouldn’t even stop to change my dress—besides, George, I thought perhaps you’d like—”

“I would rather have seen you, Lilian, as I know you.”

And this was a lover’s warm greeting. It was a strange cold change: a few minutes before she had been surrounded by admirers, ministering to her vanity at every point.