Part 17 (1/2)
”You want your old life, your dear old life,” I said, ”and your old comforts. I am very happy, and I want you to be the same. If I have made a mistake, and you are injured by this, it will break my heart.”
”I am not injured at all, I am happy,” she said.
”You like Mr. Randolph?”
”I do. He belongs to the old life.”
”Then he is no mystery to you?”
”I take him quite simply, as a good-natured fellow, who has plenty of money, and is attracted by our rather queer position,” she answered, ”that is all. I don't make mysteries where none may exist.”
”Then I will do likewise,” I said cheerfully.
The next morning when I awoke it seemed like a dream that we had dined at the Cecil and enjoyed the luxury of a box at the Lyceum, that we had for a brief time stepped back into our old existence.
The morning was a foggy one, one of the first bad fogs of the season.
The boarders were cross--breakfast was not quite as luxurious as usual; even Jane was a little late and a little put out. The boarders were very fond of porridge, and it happened to be slightly burnt that morning. There were discontented looks, and even discontented words, from more than one uninteresting individual. Then Mr. Randolph came in, looking very fresh and neat and pleasant, and sat down boldly in the vacant seat near me, and began to talk about last night. Mother never got up until after breakfast. Mrs. Armstrong gazed at me, and Miss Armstrong tossed her food about, and the other boarders, even the Furlongs, cast curious glances in our direction; but I had determined to take him at his word, and to enjoy all the pleasures he could give us; and as to Mr. Randolph himself, I don't believe any one could upset his composure. He talked a good deal about our last night's entertainment, and said that he hoped to be able to take us to the theatre again soon.
Just at that moment a shrill voice sounded in his ears.
”Did I hear you say, Mr. Randolph,” called out Mrs. Armstrong from her place at the opposite side of the board, ”that you have a large connection with the theatrical managers?”
”No, you did not, Mrs. Armstrong,” was his very quiet rejoinder.
”I beg your pardon, I'm sure.” Mrs Armstrong flushed. Miss Armstrong touched her on her arm.
”Lor! mother, how queer of you,” she said; ”I am sure Mr. Randolph said nothing of the kind. Why, these play managers are quite a low sort of people; I'm ashamed of you, mother.”
”I happen to know Irving very well,” said Mr. Randolph, ”and also Beerbohm Tree and Wilson Barrett, and I do not think any of these distinguished men of genius are a low sort of people.”
”It is the exception that proves the rule,” said Mrs. Armstrong, glancing at her daughter and bridling. ”You should not take me up so sharp, Marion. What I was going to say was this, Mr. Randolph--can you or can you not get us tickets cheap for one of the plays. We have a great hankering to go, both me and Marion, and seeing that we are all in this house--one family, so to speak--it don't seem fair, do it, that _all_ the favour should go to one?”--here she cast a withering glance at me.
Mr. Randolph turned and looked at me, and that quizzical laughing light was very bright in his eyes, then he turned towards Mrs.
Armstrong, and, after a brief pause, said gently--
”What day would suit you best to go to the Lyceum?”
”Oh, Mr. Randolph!” said Marion Armstrong in a voice of rapture.
”Because if to-morrow night would be convenient to you two ladies,” he continued, ”I think I can promise you stalls. I will let you know at lunch-time.” Here he rose, gave a slight bow in the direction of the Armstrongs, and left the room.
”Now I have done it, and I am glad,” said Mrs. Armstrong.
”I do hope, ma,” continued Marion, ”that he means to come with us. I want to go just as Mrs. Wickham and Miss Wickham went, in the brougham with the coachman and the footman, and to have dinner at the Cecil. It must be delightful dining at the Cecil, Miss Wickham. They say that most dinners there cost five pounds, is that true?”
”I cannot tell you,” I replied. ”Mother and I were Mr. Randolph's guests.”
Mrs. Armstrong looked me up and down. She thought it best at that moment to put on a very knowing look, and the expression of her face was most annoying.