Part 15 (1/2)

Lancelot laughed in unison and seizing a couple of sheets of foolscap he opened and spread them on the table.

”One for you and one for me, but you see I've put them together,” said he with a roguish gleam in his eye.

”No, they must be separate.”

But he had his way.

Soon the banquet was ready and it delighted Lavinia to see how ravenously the young man ate. At the same time it pained her for it told of days of privation. Before long they were perfectly at ease and merrily chatting about nothing in particular, under some circ.u.mstances the best kind of talk. Suddenly he said:

”I'm wondering where my next meal is to come from. I can't expect an angel to visit me every day.”

”Perhaps it will be a raven. Didn't ravens feed Elijah?” said Lavinia mockingly.

”I believe so, but I'm not Elijah. I'm not even a prophet. I'm only a poor scribbler.”

”You write plays, don't you?”

”I've written one but I'm afraid it's poor stuff. I meant to show it to Mr. Gay the great poet. I was told he was often to be found at the Maiden Head in St. Giles, but unluckily I was persuaded by some friends to see Jack Sheppard's last exploit at Tyburn. I drank too much--I own it to my shame--and when I reached the inn where I hoped to see Mr. Gay I fell dead asleep and never saw him. He had gone when I awoke.”

Lavinia clasped her hands. A shadow pa.s.sed over her bright face leaving it sad and pensive. The red mobile lips were tremulous and the eyes moist and s.h.i.+ning. She now knew why Lancelot Vane's features had seemed so familiar to her. But not for worlds would she let him know she had seen him in his degradation.

Besides she too had memories of that day she would like to forget--save the remembrance of her meeting with Gay and his kindness to her, a kindness which she felt she had repaid with folly and ingrat.i.tude.

”Then you know Mr. Gay?” said she presently.

”I was introduced to him by Spiller the actor one night at the Lamb and Flag, Clare Market--I'll warrant you don't know Clare Market; 'tis a dirty greasy ill-smelling place where everyone seems to be a butcher----”

Lavinia said nothing. She knew Clare Market perfectly well.

”Mr. Gay was good enough to look at some poems I had with me. He praised them and I told him I'd written a play and he said he would like to see it. And then--but you know what happened. I feel I daren't face him again after disgracing myself so. What must he think of me?”

”He'll forgive you,” cried Lavinia enthusiastically. ”He's the dearest, the kindest, the most generous hearted man in the world. He is my best friend and----”

She stopped. She was on the point of plunging into her history and there was no necessity for doing this. She had not said a word to Lancelot Vane about herself and she did not intend to do so. He must think what he pleased about the adventure which had brought them together. He must have seen her leap from Dorrimore's carriage--nay, he may have caught sight of Dorrimore himself. Then there was the ruffian of a coachman who had pursued her. The reason of the fellow's anxiety to capture her must have puzzled Vane. Well, it must continue to puzzle him.

”Mr. Gay your friend?” returned Vane with a pang of envy. ”Ah, then, you're indeed fortunate. I--you've been such a benefactor to me, madam, that I hesitate to ask another favour of you.”

All familiarity had fled from him. He seemed to be no longer on an equality with her. He was diffident, he was respectful. If this girl was a friend of Mr. Gay the distinguished poet and dramatist whose latest work, ”The Fables,” was being talked about at b.u.t.ton's, at Wills', at every coffee-house where the wits gathered, she must be somebody in the world of fas.h.i.+on and letters. Perhaps she was an actress. She had the a.s.sured manner of one, he thought.

”What is it you want? If it's anything in my power I'd like to help you,” said Lavinia with an air of gracious condescension. The young man's sudden deference amused her highly. It also pleased her.

”Thank you,” he exclaimed eagerly. ”I would ask you if you have sufficient acquaintance to show him my play? I'm sure he would refuse you nothing. n.o.body could.”

”Oh, this is very sad,” said Lavinia shaking her head. ”I'm afraid, Mr.

Vane, you're trying to bribe me with flattery. I warn you it will be of no avail. All the same I'll take your play to Mr. Gay if you care to trust it to me.”

”Trust, madam, I'd trust you with anything.”

”You shouldn't be so ready to believe in people you know nothing of.