Part 15 (1/2)

”But you told me it was Mr. Irving's theatre, and I thought it would have been his place to welcome----”

The vision of Bened.i.c.k clapping his hands at his own entrance set Lord Robert laughing in his cold way: but Drake said, ”Be quiet, Robert!”

Glory, like a child, had ears for no conversation except her own, and she was immersed in the play in a moment. The merry war of Beatrice and Bened.i.c.k had begun, and as she watched it her face grew grave.

”Now, that's very foolish of her,” she said; ”and if, as you say, she's a great actress, she shouldn't do such things. To talk like that to a man is to let everybody see that she likes him better than anybody else, though she's trying her best to hide it. The silly girl--he'll find her out!”

But the curtain had gone down on the first act, the lights had suddenly gone up, and her companions were laughing at her. Then she laughed also.

”Of course, it's only a play,” she said largely, ”and I know all about plays and about acting, and I can act myself, too.”

”I'm sure you can,” said Polly, lifting her lip. But Glory took no notice.

Throughout the second act she put on the same airs of knowledge, watching the masked ball intently, but never once uttering a laugh and hardly ever smiling. The light, the colour, the dresses, the gay young faces enchanted her; but she struggled to console herself. It was only her body that was up there, leaning over the front of the box with lips twitching and eyes gleaming; her soul was down on the stage, clad in a lovely gown, and carrying a mask and laughing and joking with Bened.i.c.k; but she held herself in, and when the curtain fell she began to talk of the acting.

She was still of the opinion that Leonato was excellent for such an elderly gentleman, and when Polly praised Claudio she agreed that he was good too.

”But Bened.i.c.k is my boy for all,” she said. In some way she had identified herself with Beatrice, and hardly ever spoke of her.

During the third act this air of wisdom and learning broke down badly.

In the middle of the ballad, ”Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,” she remembered Johnnie, and whispered to Drake how ill he had been when they left the hospital. And when it was over, and Bened.i.c.k protested that the song had been vilely sung, she sat back in her seat and said she didn't know how Mr. Irving could say such a thing, for she was sure the boy had sung it beautifully.

”But that's the author,” whispered Drake; and then she said wisely:

”Oh, yes, I know--Shakespeare, of course.”

Then came the liming of the two love-birds, and she declared that everybody was in love in plays of that sort, and that was why she liked them; but as for those people playing the trick, they were very simple if they thought Beatrice didn't know she loved Bened.i.c.k. Claudio fell woefully in her esteem in other respects also, and when he agreed to spy on Hero she said he ought to be ashamed of himself anyhow.

”How ridiculous you are!” said Polly. ”It's the author, isn't it?”

”Then the author ought to be ashamed of himself, also, for it is unjust and cruel and unnecessary,” said Glory.

The curtain had come down again by this time, and the men were deep in an argument about morality in art, Lord Robert protesting that art had no morality, and Drake maintaining that what Glory said was right, and there was no getting to the back of it.

But the fourth act witnessed Glory's final vanquishment. When she found the scene was the inside of a church and they were to be present at a wedding, she could not keep still on her seat for delight; but when the marriage was stopped and Claudio uttered his denunciation of Hero, she said it was just like him, and it would serve him right if n.o.body believed him.

”Hus.h.!.+” said somebody near them.

”But they are believing him,” said Glory quite audibly.

”Hus.h.!.+ Hus.h.!.+” came from many parts of the theatre.

”Well, that's shameful--her father, too----” began Glory.

”Hush, Glory!” whispered Drake; but she had risen to her feet, and when Hero fainted and fell she uttered a cry.

”What a girl!” whispered Polly. ”Sit down--everybody's looking!”

”It's only a play, you know,” whispered Drake; and Glory sat down and said: