Part 9 (1/2)
”We have now gone too far to recede,” whispered Madeline,--”You must stand by me now. I _will not_ go back, and _you must_ come forward.
Here, take my money and put it down with yours--I forgot my gloves, and my hands will betray me, so I must keep them wrapped up in my cloak.”
Juliet laid the money on the ledge before the doorkeeper, who looked at them with some surprise. They pulled their bonnets more closely over their faces, and pa.s.sed up the stairs; Madeline running as fast as possible, and Juliet entreating her in a low voice to stop a little, as she could not keep pace with her. They soon found themselves in the gallery, and being a.s.sisted over the benches by a very polite black man, they took their seats among some coloured people about the centre of the middle row.
The crowd and heat were intolerable. Juliet kept her eyes cast down; afraid to look round the house, or even to steal a glance towards the stage. Madeline, however, looked round boldly, and in a few minutes, to her great consternation, she perceived Edward Lansdowne standing up in the back part of one of the stage-boxes. Having finished his novel, and feeling no inclination to read any more that night, he had concluded to go to the theatre, reminded of it by seeing the bill in the evening paper. ”Juliet,” whispered Madeline, ”there is my evil genius.” ”Where, where?” exclaimed Juliet, thrown almost off her guard. ”If we can distinguish _him_ at so great a distance, he can also discover _us_.”--”You forget,” replied Madeline, ”that we are in disguise.” These words, though uttered in a whisper, were evidently heard by the people round, who all turned to look at them; and some tried to peep under their bonnets, which made Juliet draw hers down over her face till her sight was entirely obscured by it.
The play went on; but Madeline and Juliet could not enjoy it, all their attention being engaged by the continual fear of discovery. Juliet, however heard enough to convince her that her parents would never have taken her to see the Belle's Stratagem; as when they did indulge her with a visit to the theatre, they always selected a night when the play was unexceptionable, and the whole entertainment such as a young lady could witness with propriety.
At length came the masquerade-scene, and in a short time the French dancers appeared. Just then, a short, fat, red-faced and very vulgar Englishwoman who sat behind Madeline and Juliet, gave each of them a twitch on the shoulder, saying, in a broad Yorks.h.i.+re dialect, ”I'll thank you gals or ladies or whatsomdever you be, to take off your bunnets and let a body have some chance of seeing the show; for I've been popping my ead back and furrads atween you ever sence you comed hin, and thof I've as good a right to see as any body else, I've ardly got a squint at the hactors yet.”
The girls were now in a most critical dilemma. To take off their bonnets seemed out of the question, as the exposure of their heads would no doubt betray them, and their fear and perplexity were so great that they had not presence of mind either to speak or move.
”Don't pertend that you don't ear me,” said the Englishwoman, giving them both a hard push forward with her huge hands. ”I bees a true King Georgeswoman, and won't be put upon by none of the Yankees, not I, thof I _am_ come to their country. I pays my money as well as you, and I've jist as good a right to see the show; and if you won't take off them big bunnets, I'll be bound I'll make you, if there's even a row about it.
I've raised a row afore this time when I've been put upon.”
”Oh! let us go, let us go,” said Juliet, gasping with terror, and seizing Madeline's arm.
”Honly wait,” continued the Englishwoman, ”till I tells my usband, who sets ahind here, to call 'turn 'em out.' You _may_ be ladies. But I bees an onest oman, and if I've come to a land of liberty, the more reason that I should make free to speak my mind; and if we're all hequal, why then n.o.body han't no right to put upon me.”
By this time the two girls, in an agony of trepidation, had scrambled over the benches and got to the door, expecting every instant to hear the dreaded words, ”turn them out,” and to see Edward's eyes directed towards them, with those of the whole audience. Scarcely conscious of what they were doing, they ran down the gallery-stairs, and flew out of the door into the street. As is usual toward the latter part of the play, a number of boys had collected about the fruit-stalls waiting for checks, that they might gain admittance to see the farce; and as Madeline ran past them, her cloak flew open, and the moonbeams shone brightly on a brilliant ring which she always wore on her fore-finger.
This with something in their appearance that would cause even unpractised eyes to suspect that they were young ladies, attracted the attention of the boys, who stared at them with surprise and curiosity.
Madeline and Juliet ran down the street in breathless terror. They had gone about a square from the theatre before they recollected that their way home lay in a contrary direction, and that they ought to go _up_ the street instead of _down_. ”Oh! we are going _from_ home instead of _towards_ it,” exclaimed Juliet; and they immediately turned about and ran up Chestnut street. They again pa.s.sed the theatre, terrified, bewildered, their bonnets falling back and discovering their frightened faces in full view; Madeline's cloak half untied and flying out behind her, and Juliet still grasping one corner of her shawl (which had fallen entirely off her shoulders) and dragging it after her along the pavement. On seeing them running back in this forlorn condition, the boys set up a loud shout, and calling out ”Hurrah for the ladies,”
pursued them up Chestnut street.
A young gentleman who had left the theatre a few minutes before, and was walking leisurely up the street, turned round to discover the meaning of all the noise that was coming after him, and caught Juliet, breathless and almost dead, by her two hands. ”Juliet,” he exclaimed, ”my sister Juliet!” ”Oh, Edward!” she shrieked, and fell into his arms drowned in tears.
”Save me, save me,” cried Madeline, catching him by the coat. ”Madeline too!” said Edward. ”What does all this mean?”
Another gentleman now came up, and ordered off the boys, reprimanding them severely for chasing two unprotected females; and Edward taking one of the girls under each arm, walked on in silence, much affected by the sobbing of Juliet.
Madeline soon recovered herself, and attempted an explanation of the strange predicament in which he had found them; pa.s.sing it off as a very good joke, and a further proof of her ungovernable volatility.
Edward remained silent. He would not reproach her, but he determined in his mind what course to pursue. He took leave of Madeline at her own door, and on entering his father's house, he told Juliet that she had better, as soon as possible, divest herself of her disguise. Juliet could not speak, but she wept on her brother's shoulder; and Edward kissed her cheek, and bade her good night.
She retired to bed, but she could not sleep; and in the morning she rose earlier than usual, and went into the parlour, where she knew she would find Edward. She looked very pale, and her eyes were swimming in tears.
”Oh! Edward,” said she, ”what did my father and mother say, when they came home last night, and you told them all that happened?”
”I told them nothing,” replied Edward, ”I love you too well to betray you. I have kept your secret, and I shall never disclose it. But I must have a recompense.”
_Juliet._ Any, any recompense, dearest Edward. What can you ask that I could possibly refuse.