Part 39 (1/2)

There's no taste for English ballads. They're out of fas.h.i.+on. Scales, ornaments, shakes and flourishes are now the mode. For all that, I'd like to make the venture with you just for once.”

”Thank you, sir. If the people don't care for my songs, there's an end on it. I'll have to wait as best I can till Mr. Rich opens his theatre.

I may have a singing part in Mr. Gay's opera. Mr. Gay has promised me.

Have you heard about his opera?” cried Lavinia eagerly.

”Oh, it's being talked of in the coffee houses, I'm told. But if Mr.

Rich has his way, it won't do. Maybe he'll cut out the songs. Mr. Rich knows nothing about music. He can't tell 'Lilibullero' from 'Lumps of pudding.' Still, it's something to be taken notice of by Mr. Gay.”

Palmer was evidently impressed by Lavinia's talk, especially after she had mentioned that she had sung to Dr. Pepusch at Mr. Pope's Villa. It occurred to him that though Lavinia Fenton might be unknown now, a day might come when she would be famous, and he could then take credit for having recognised her talents.

Besides, the manager happened to know that Gay and Arbuthnot were at that moment staying at Hampstead to drink the waters--the first to cure his dyspepsia, and the second to ease his gout. Palmer decided to send word to the poet-dramatist intimating that a young lady in whom he had heard Mr. Gay was interested was about to sing at one of the Great Room concerts and begging for the honour of his patronage. But he said nothing to Lavinia about this. All he remarked was that she should sing at his concert on the following Wednesday, and Lavinia went away in a dream of pleasurable antic.i.p.ation.

The eventful night came. Lavinia was full of enthusiasm but horribly nervous. She felt she was competing with the two greatest composers of music in the world. What if the audience hissed her? Audiences, as she well knew, were not slow to express their likes and dislikes--and especially their dislikes--in the most unmistakeable fas.h.i.+on.

The difficulty of her dress had been overcome. Palmer was shrewd. He had an eye for contrast. He would have no finery and fallals, he said.

”Your songs are simple, so must your gown be. If the people take to you in the one they will in t'other.”

So Lavinia made her appearance in a plain dress, ap.r.o.n, mob cap, and of course prodigious hoops. Her hair was arrayed neatly and not powdered.

There was powder enough and to spare on the wigs of the beaux in front, and on the elaborate head-dresses of the belles.

Lavinia's unadorned dress suited her natural and easy carriage and made her doubly attractive. Not a hand was raised when she bowed, but she could see that every eye was turned upon her with expectancy and curiosity. But there was also a certain amount of indifference which provoked her. It could hardly be supposed that anything out of fas.h.i.+on would be of interest to such modish folk.

Lavinia chose her favourite--”My lodging it is on the cold ground.”

There were not a few aged bucks, painted and powdered and patched, aping the airs and graces of younger gallants, who could remember Charles II.

and Moll Davies. They were startled when they heard Lavinia's liquid notes in the old ballad--they felt that for a brief s.p.a.ce they were recovering their youth.

As for the rest, they were conscious of a pleasant surprise. Against the simplicity and pathos of the old ballad Buononcini's stilted artificialities sounded tame and monotonous. When Lavinia finished applause filled the room. She had to sing again.

”You've caught 'em, my dear,” said Palmer enthusiastically. ”Before a week's over you'll be the talk of Hampstead. You must stay here and sing whenever I want you. Not every night--that would make you common. Only now and again, just as a novelty. Do you understand?”

Lavinia knew the ways of showmen quite well. She smiled and nodded, and her eyes wandering towards the door of the ante-room in which she and Palmer had been talking, whom should her gaze light upon but Mr. Gay!

Palmer was very well acquainted with Gay by sight, and hastening towards the visitor made him a low bow.

”I am highly honoured, sir, by your presence here to-night,” said Palmer, ”I hope you did not think my sending you a ticket was taking a liberty.”

”Tut, tut, man! 'Twas very polite of you,” returned Gay good-humouredly.

”I'm glad to be able to congratulate you on the success of your new acquisition, especially as the little lady interests me greatly--as, indeed, you mentioned in your note, though how you came to know of that interest I'm at a loss to conceive, unless she told you so herself.”

”Not directly, sir, I confess. But she chanced to remark that she had sung to you and to Dr. Pepusch, whom I am fortunate in numbering among my friends.”

”Aye, aye. Well, she _can_ sing, eh? What d'ye think?”

”Admirable, sir, admirable. She has been gifted both by nature and art.”

”And those gifts should put money in her pocket and yours too, Mr.

Palmer. I hope you'll reward her on a liberal scale.”