Part 23 (1/2)

There was no time for reflection. Dr. Pepusch had gone into the house and the thin but sweet tones of a harpsichord were floating through the open window. He was striking a few preliminary chords and indulging in an extemporised prelude. A pause, and then he commenced Purcell's song.

The plaintive melody with its well balanced phrasing took Lavinia's fancy, and absorbed in the music she forgot her audience. She saw how the words were wedded to the notes and watched where the trills and graces came in. Pepusch played the air right through; waited a minute or so and recommenced.

Lavinia began. She sang like one inspired. Her pure and limpid tones gave fresh charm to the melody. She never had had any difficulty with the trill, so flexible was her voice naturally, and the graces which Purcell had introduced after the fas.h.i.+on of the day were given with perfect ease. As the final cadence died away the little audience loudly applauded. Pepusch came out of the house and wagged his head as he crossed the lawn. His somewhat sour look had vanished. He went up to Lavinia and patted her shoulder.

”Dat vas goot, young laty--ver goot,” he growled.

”What did I tell you doctor?” cried Gay exultantly. ”Why, she can sing everything set down for Polly--I pray you don't forget it is to be Polly--Peachum. She _is_ Polly Peachum. What do you think, Mr. Pope?”

”Polly Peachum by all means since you will have it so. If an author has a right to anything it is surely the right to name his offspring as he will. He need not even consult his wife--if he have one. But though you call your work an opera Mr. Gay, it is also a play. The songs are not everything--indeed, Mr. Rich would say they're nothing. Can the girl act?”

”She can be taught and I'll swear she'll prove an apt pupil. 'Twill, I fear, be many months before it is staged. Rich has not made up his mind.

I hear Mr. Huddy who was dispossessed of the Duke's Theatre contemplates the New Theatre in the Haymarket. I must talk to him. He hasn't yet found his new company. An indifferent lot of strolling players I'm told was his old one. Polly probably won't have a singing part but that's of no great matter just now.”

”You're bound to build castles in the air Mr. Gay,” said Dr. Arbuthnot, taking his churchwarden from his lips. ”Suppose you come down to _terra firma_ for a brief s.p.a.ce. The girl is a singer--that cannot be gainsaid.

She may become an actress--good. But now--who is she? Her father--her mother----”

”They can hardly be said to exist,” broke in Gay. ”I will tell you the story later on. 'Twould but embarra.s.s her to relate it now. The d.u.c.h.ess has been good enough to charge herself with the cost of her keeping--her schooling and the rest.”

”Oh, that alters the case. If she is a protegee of her grace I need not say more. Her future is provided for.”

”Why, yes,” but Gay spoke in anything but a confident tone. Inwardly he was troubled at what view Mat Prior's ”Kitty” might take of Polly's escapade. The d.u.c.h.ess might be as wayward as she pleased, but it did not follow that she would excuse waywardness in another woman.

Gay turned to Pepusch and the two conversed for some little time, the upshot of the talk being that Pepusch promised, when the proper time came, to say to John Rich all he could in favour of Lavinia, always supposing she had acquired sufficient stage experience.

This settled, the poet drew near Lavinia who all this time was waiting and wondering what this new adventure of hers would end in.

”Now Polly, my dear,” said Gay, ”if you behave yourself and don't have any more love affairs----”

”But did I not tell you, sir, I'd had none,” interrupted Lavinia.

”Yes--yes, I remember quite well. We won't go into the subject again or we shall never finish. The varieties and nice distinctions of love are endless. A much more pressing question is nearer to hand--where are you going to live?”

”Hannah, my mother's servant--a dear good kind creature--it was through her I was able to come here--will find me a lodging. I can trust her but--but----”

She stopped and much embarra.s.sed, twisted her fingers nervously.

”I understand. You've but little money.”

”I have none, sir, unfortunately.”

”Well--well--never mind. Here's a guinea.”

”Oh, you're too generous, sir. But I shall pay you back.”

”Don't worry about that. Now go into the house. I will ask Mr. Pope to tell his housekeeper to give you a dish of tea or a cup of cocoa.

Good-bye. You must let me know where you are living. I may have good news for you within a few days.”