Part 8 (2/2)
”I will not say thou art i' the right, for I know not. Has't asked Master Darby's consent?”
The girl turned impatiently. ”Heart o' me! but thou art able to provoke one. His consent!” with a short laugh. ”Nay then--but I will show him his face i' the mirror, an' on sight of it he will leave things for me to settle.”
”Ay!” the dame returned, blankly, ”I warrant he will. But art not afeared o' the people? What if they should discover thou art a _woman_!”
”I'll say they are of quicker wit than one I could name,” returned Debora. ”As for the play--well, I know the play by heart. Now one thing more. I would have thee go with me to Blackfriars. The theatre opens at four o'clock. Say thou wilt bear me company dear, dear Mistress Blossom. Say thou wilt.”
”Nay then, I will _not_. Ods fis.h.!.+ Thou hast gotten thyself in this an' thou can'st get out alone. I will keep a quiet tongue, but ask me to do naught beside.”
”Well-a-day! 'Tis as I thought. Now I will go and dress in maidenly clothes. These fearsome things be not needed till the morrow.”
CHAPTER VII
VII
By Monday noon Darby Thornbury was unable to lift his head from the pillow by reason of its aching. He remembered nothing about receiving the blow over his eye, and talked little. Dame Blossom and Debora tended him faithfully, keeping Master Blossom away from a true knowledge of affairs. Debora would have had a physician, but Darby would not listen to it.
”I will have no leeching, blood-letting nor evil-smelling draughts,” he cried, irritably; ”no poultices nor plasters neither! I have misery enough without adding to it, Egad!”
Being brought to this pa.s.s and having seen his face in the mirror, he bade Debora find the Master-player of the Company and make what excuse she could for him.
”I be a thrice-dyed fool, Deb,” he said with a groan. ”Work is over for me in London. I'll s.h.i.+p to the Indies, or America, an' make an ending.” Then starting up--”Oh! Deb, could naught be done with me so that I could play this evening?”
”I know not, dear heart,” she answered gently, ”perchance thy looks might not count an' thou wer't able to act. Art better?”
”Nay, worse!” he said, falling back. ”My head maddens me! An' not a word o' the lines sticks i' my memory.” So he raved on, fiercely upbraiding himself and wearying Debora. After a time she slipped on her hooded cloak, bade him good-bye, and went out. Returning, she told Darby that he could take courage, for a subst.i.tute had been found in his place.
”Ask no questions, dear heart. Nay--an' trouble no more, but rest.
Thou wilt be on the boards by Wednesday, an' thy luck is good.”
”Dost think so, sweet?” he asked, weakly. ”An' will the mark be gone?”
”Why, nearly,” she answered; ”an' if it still be a little blue, we will paint it. In any case, thine eye will be open, which it is not now.”
”Thou art a very angel, Deb, an' I am a brute. I know not where they got one to take my part--an' Marry! I seem not to care. Never will I drink aught but water. Nay, then, thou shalt not go. Stay by me till I sleep, for there be queer lights before my eyes, an' I see thee through them. Thou art so beautiful, Deb, so beautiful.”
She waited till he slept, sometimes smiling to herself in a wise way.
What children men were when they were ill, she thought. Even Dad would not let her out of his sight when the rheumatism crippled him all last winter. Why, once Nick Berwick came in with a sprained wrist, and naught would be but Deb must bathe and bind it. Nick Berwick! he was so strong and tall and straight. A sigh broke over her lips as she rose and went away to her room.
Half an hour later Debora came down the stairs dressed in the suit of Kendal green. Dame Blossom met her in the hallway.
”Dost keep to thy mad plan, Mistress Deb?”
”Truly,” answered the girl. ”See, I will be back by sundown. Have no fear for me, the tiring-room hath a latch, an' none know me for myself.
Keep thy counsel an' take care o' Darby.”
Blackfriars was filled that March afternoon. The narrow windows in the upper gallery had all been darkened, and the house was lit by a thousand lights that twinkled down on eager faces turned towards the stage. Even then at the edge of the rush-strewn boards was a line of stools, which had been taken at a rose-n.o.ble apiece by some score of young gallants.
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