*CHAPTER XIV.*
*FICKLE FORTUNE.*
Grey had a double reason for his rapid disappearance from the scene ofhis recent exploit. For one thing, he had recognized amid the audienceassembled by Lady Romaine to witness the performance quite a number ofmen whom he had known with more or less intimacy in the former days, andwhom he now desired to avoid. He knew that both his flowing wig and hisfine clothes had received some injury from the fire, and moreover hequickly felt that his hands and one of his arms had suffered from theflames. If he were to be taken possession of by friendly orcompassionate persons, to have these matters looked to, there was no endto the possible complications which might arise. The sensitive pride ofthe young man of gentle birth rose in arms against being unmasked in themidst of old associates. He pictured the laugh with which Lord Sandfordwould make the discovery that the youthful baronet, his whilom friend,was playing upon the boards of the theatre for a livelihood. That was athing he could not and would not endure. And he had fled hastily fromthe coming crowd, so soon as he had been assured that Lord Romaine wason the spot to take care of his daughter.
Again, he was frightened by the intensity of his own feelings. When heheld Geraldine in his arms, and when their eyes met, and he knew himselfrecognized, the flood of emotion which surged over him had well-nighmastered him and led him into some wild act of folly. He had had muchado to stay the burning words which rushed like a torrent to his lips.He dared not trust himself to look again upon Geraldine's fair face. Hewas frightened at the immensity of the temptation which had assailed himto break into some wild declaration of love.
But when he had reached the waiting coach which was to convey him andhis companion back to town, his thoughts were directed into quiteanother channel by the frightened faces of the servants who stood by.
"You had better get Master Wylde home without delay," spoke one, "andhave a leech for him. He was taken with bleeding at the mouth almost assoon as he left the stage. He has only spoken once, and that was to askfor you. He should be got to bed as quick as may be, and kept theretill he is better."
With a pale and anxious face Grey threw himself into the coach where theOld Lion was sitting, leaning back feebly against the cushions, his faceghastly, his hand holding to his mouth a kerchief stained and spottedwith blood. In a great fright the young actor bade the man drive fast,and stop on his way at the residence of one of the many physicians, orquacks, who drove so brisk a trade in these times, each having somewonderful nostrum of his own for the cure of all ills under the sun, andsome of them thriving so mightily that they drove four or six horses intheir coaches, and had lackeys in scarlet and silver lace running besidethem and distributing small leaflets, in which the wonders their masterhad performed were set forth.
Grey had heard of some of these men, and that they performed wonderfulcures; and he cared not what he paid, at that moment, so that his masterand friend might be relieved and healed.
With no small trouble he got him up the stairs to their attic, and puthim to bed. But more than once the hacking cough brought back thedreaded bleeding; and by the time that the leech arrived, pompous andhaughty, and none too well pleased at being summoned from the convivialgathering of friends whither he had betaken himself, he looked more likea corpse than a living man.
Grey was in a fever of anxiety, and listened with earnest heed to thewords of the leech, and his instructions for the relief of the patient.He bought every suggested medicament, regardless of the cost, and madeno hesitation in handing the exorbitant fee demanded by the great manfor his valuable services. He cared for nothing, so that his mastershould recover; and the leech, finding that gold was plentiful in thishumble abode, and rather interested in the discovery that he wasattending the actor whose Father Time had made such talk in the town,really began to take some interest in the case, and to put forth hisbest skill; so that before very long the death-like hue of the patient'sface changed to something more natural, and the hemorrhage was for thetime being checked.
"He must be kept perfectly quiet. On no account must he exert hisvoice, or leave his bed, or take any liberties. Nature must behumoured, my dear sir; nature must be helped and aided. She is a kindmother to her obedient and reasonable children, but she has many a rodfor the backs of those who despise her warnings. Our worthy friend hasbeen tendering a deaf ear to her counsels; therefore has she chastenedhim somewhat severely. But let him show himself mild and docile underher rod, and it may be that she will restore him to favour again, andthat the world will once more pay to him its tribute of admiration andpraise."
So saying the leech took his departure, promising to come at any hour ofthe day or night that he might be sent for; and Grey was left alone withhis patient, who had been soothed off to a quiet sleep by a draughtadministered. And it must be said in justice to these men--halfphysician, half quack--who flourished at this time, that some of theirremedies were of no small value when properly applied. They used herbsand concoctions brewed from the leaves and roots of plants far morefreely than has since become fashionable. Many purchased their nostrumsfrom old women, who went forth into the fields and lanes, and distilledfrom their spoil mixtures which they regarded as remedies of infalliblepotency. Much ignorance prevailed as to the action of these simplesupon the human body; but many of them were of no small value insickness, and when used in cases where it chanced to be the thingrequired, worked wonders in rapid healing, and became at once thefavourite elixir of the moment amongst those who had known of the cure.
So the Old Lion was at least soothed to quiet sleep, and in the warmatmosphere of the attic his breathing was sensibly relieved. Grey wasable now to strip off his own finery, rather aghast at the sorry stateof his coat, the total destruction of his costly ruffles, and the singedcondition of his wig.
"These must be made good quickly, or I shall not be fit to appear on theboards on Monday night," he mused, as he looked at them. Luckily asthis was Saturday night, he felt as though there were breathing timebefore him. "I must send word to Mr. Butler of what has befallen.Anthony Frewen, or some other, must needs play Father Time for a scoreof performances at least, I fear me. It will be a loss: I shall earnbut the half of what was given us before. Still it will suffice to keepus, and I trust and hope that it will not be long ere he recover, totake his place once more."
A troubled look came over Grey's face as he looked towards the bed, andnoted the patient's sunken cheek and cavernous eyes. He wondered thathe had not before seen how thin and shrunken the old man was getting;but there was always so much fire about him that it deceived even thosewho saw him oftenest and loved him best.
"It has been too much for him," mused Grey, as he sat beside the fire,pain of body and anxiety of mind precluding all thought of sleep. Hishands were becoming increasingly painful, and he had forgotten to askthe leech for any medicament for them. However, he applied linen ragsteeped in oil; and the burning smart lessened somewhat, though he hadno disposition to seek sleep.
"It hath been too much for him--the triumph, the adulation, theexcitement of taking again his old place before the world. It meant somuch to him, this play. It was like the child of his old age. Itbrought him his final triumph; but it took much out of him also. Thefires of life blazed up too fiercely. Now they seem sinking down toashes. Heaven grant that we may feed them yet, that he may recover himof this sickness. Yet will he ever be able to face the world again asheretofore? It is hard that his trumpet voice should be taken--the lastof those attributes which made him the idol of the stage. Oh, it hasbeen hard how one thing has followed another with him! Some men seemborn to success and triumph, whilst others with equal gifts and powersare doomed to misfortune and sorrow."
Grey fell into a reverie of a sombre nature. "Was he fated to be one ofthose luckless mortals, ever falling lower and lower in fortune'sfavour, till perhaps a pauper's grave should at last close over him?
"What has life given me h
eretofore? A good old name, which I may notuse for very pride; an estate so burdened and crippled that it is noneof mine, save in name. I have had my days of glory and happiness; butwhat lies before me now? If my master dies, or lies sick and helpless,what will become of us in the future? I may play the part of the Youthwith Anthony Frewen or some other till the world tires of it; but whatthen? Shall I join the crowd of cringing, hollow-eyed men, crowding thetaverns and the stage doors of the theatres, and begging for someinferior part upon the boards? Shall I go vaunting my powers, orchaffering my wares in a market already overstocked, that wants none ofme? No. Whatever happens, I will have none of that. I have tasted ofthe life, but it hath no charms for me. Rather would I gird my swordupon my thigh, and go forth as a soldier in foreign lands; and, indeed,were I alone in the world, methinks I would hesitate no longer, butoffer myself for this."
As he spoke, his eyes turned to the bed where the old man lay, and asofter look came over his face.
"I cannot leave him. With him I must stay till he recover, or till hedie. He took me in in my hour of need. To desert him in his would bebase beyond all words. I will play the part of son to him so long as heneeds me; and for his sake will I go through my part as before, thoughwithout him the joy will be gone. But it will bring us the needfulgold; and we are not without our hoard, as it is. Truly my master waswise when he decided not to leave these rooms--not to live like rich menon the strength of our earnings. We have sufficient gold laid byagainst a rainy day. Ere that is spent, doubtless there will come somechange to our fortunes."
But with the dawn of another day Grey found himself in very sorryplight. Great blisters had risen over his hand and arm, and the fingerswere so swollen and painful that he could scarcely move them. He wasforced to contrive a sling in which to carry his left hand and arm, andhe could only just use his right sufficiently for the needful attendanceupon the sick man, and that not without considerable pain. He began tofeel feverish and weak himself from the effects of pain and shock.
It began to come over him with more and more conviction that he himselfwould be unfit to appear upon the stage on the morrow. And as soon asthe morning light had fully come, he sent the servant of the housewherein they lodged to the rooms occupied by Mr. Butler of the DruryLane theatre management, asking him to come at once to see him upon amatter of importance.
Mr. Butler was part proprietor of the theatre, and the practical stagemanager, and he listened with great interest and concern to Grey's tale,looking earnestly at the sick man muttering to himself upon the bed, buttaking no notice of what went on about him, and bending over him notuntenderly, to see if could elicit some response. But the Old Lionunclosed his dim eyes for a few moments, looked into his face, and thenturned restlessly and began the mutterings as before, interruptedsometimes by fits of coughing, which left him visibly exhausted,although there was no return of the hemorrhage.
"I have had my fears of this," spoke Mr. Butler, turning back to Grey."He is scarce fit for the strain of the past weeks. He uses himself uptoo fast. The fires burn within too fiercely; and his long illness,though seeming only to cripple his limbs, has told upon him. I havefeared it might be so, therefore we are not altogether unprovided."
"I know," answered Grey quietly. "I was going to say as much. AnthonyFrewen has the part of Father Time at his fingers' ends. He can play itfor Mr. Wylde till this illness be overpassed."
"That is true. I am glad you should know. He is ready at any time totake the part. It will be for him a great opportunity. But it would bewell for you to rehearse with him ere appearing before the public.Shall we arrange for this to-morrow forenoon? As for this dress, itmust be given at once into the hands of tailor and perruquier. Butthere should be no difficulty in having it repaired in time. A fewguineas will set that matter to rights."
"At my cost," answered Grey promptly. "Let that be understood. It isin the bond; though I shall be grateful if you will see to the matterfor me. As for the rehearsal, and even the performance to-morrow andthe next few nights, I am not certain if I myself shall be able to gothrough my part. See here!" and Grey drew from the sling his maimed andstiffened hand, showing even a greater extent of injury in the daylightthan he had observed before. His white face and drawn brows showed thathe was suffering considerable pain; and Mr. Butler whistled in dismay.
"This is serious," he said, with a look of perplexity on his face.
"Yet methinks there is a way out of the difficulty," spoke Grey, withsome eagerness. "Could you find and send to me the young actor LionelField, who has lodgings somewhere in these regions, for he comes andgoes at the theatre, and has visited us often, albeit he has never toldme where he dwells?"
"I could find the fellow, doubtless," was the answer; "but do you knowyour man? A fellow sober one day, drunk the next, upon whom no reliancecan be placed, though his talent is considerable, and he has caught thepublic taste before now."
"Ay, and adversity has something sobered and tamed him," answered Greyeagerly. "I have a sort of liking for the fellow, though he has ajealous feeling towards me, in that I have stepped into a place withoutserving apprenticeship thereto. But believe me, he could act this partof mine. I am sure of it. He has studied it, I know. He has sat many atime in that chair whilst I have been going through my paces before mymaster. I have seen him watching and following all. Send him hither tome. I will undertake that he shall be ready to act for me till I am myown man again. Let him have the chance. I am sure he will remain sober.He has been steadier for long; and this, he knows, may give him justthat lift for which he has been waiting and longing. It may be thebeginning for him of better things; and since we are much of the sameheight, and he is only something broader and more stoutly built, therewill be little trouble with the dress. Let him play the Youth for oneweek at least in my place, and I will give my time to my sick friendyonder, and let my injured hands recover their strength and suppleness."
The manager had been studying Grey's face with some attention. He sawthat it would be impossible for the young man to act for some days tocome. There was a look of fever about him, and the state of his handswas quite prohibitive. He spoke with a note as of warning in his voice.
"Do you know what it is that you would do?" he asked. "Have you heardthe tale of the countryman who warmed a viper at his hearth, whichafterwards did him to death?"
"The fable I know," answered Grey with a smile, "but I do not see theapplication in the present."
"Perchance you may have reason to understand it, if you do as youpurpose towards Lionel Field. A man consumed by vanity and envy is notthe safest wearer of one's discarded shoes."
"But is there any other?" asked Grey. "I know of none."
"No, nor I, i' faith. We have feared that the old man might breakdown--he has been growing so gaunt and hollow-eyed of late; but we hadnever thought of such a thing as the Youth failing us. We have nosubstitute for you, Mr. White. If you fall ill, the interlude mustcease; and it were pity too, for it still draws us crowded houses."
"No, it need not cease," spoke Grey with energy. "Send me only LionelField this day, and I will undertake that by to-morrow forenoon he shallbe fit for the rehearsal with Anthony Frewen in the theatre. Let himtake my place till I am ready to fill it again. He will do it betterthan I, with these maimed hands, and with my heart so full of anxiousfears for Mr. Wylde."
"Then so be it," answered the manager, with audible relief in his tones.He had no wish to withdraw the piece whilst it was still so high infavour. No one knew how soon the capricious public might tire of it; butfor the moment, with the Duke of Marlborough the popular idol, andexpected home week by week, nothing that gave him praise and honourcould fail to catch the popular taste. The house filled double as fullon those nights on which Time and the Youth were to appear as it did onthe others. Grey knew this, and would not for the world have had theperformances to cease on his account. He had no petty jealousy of anunderstudy. He simply desired that a man he
had come to pity sincerelyshould have the chance he so coveted; and when Lionel Field stood beforehim, flushed, excited, filled with strenuous desire to succeed--to fillthe part as ably as it had been filled before--Grey's only desire was tohelp him to this end.
It was a strange day that was passed in that upper chamber. On the bedlay the sick man, for the most part lying in the lethargy of weakness,but from time to time rousing up, watching with sudden feverisheagerness the actions of the young men, and occasionally in whisperingtones giving some fragment of keen criticism or dramatic suggestion. Atthe other end of the room stood Lionel, going through his part again andyet again, with an unwearied energy and with increasing grip and power;whilst Grey, white-faced and exhausted, but still bent on the taskbefore him, sat beside the fire watching, listening, instructing, risingevery now and again to show how a certain trick of manner or of voicemust be managed, to recall the great Duke to those who knew him. Themaster was in earnest; the pupil was eager and resolved to excel.Lionel had never lacked talent. What he had lacked was the power ofself-restraint, whilst vanity had led him into the snare of thinkinghimself invaluable. A bitter lesson had followed, and he had learnedwisdom by experience. His chance had now come to him most unexpectedly.He meant to use it well. He was grateful to Grey for selecting him atthis juncture. He did not consciously meditate doing him an ill turn,but he resolved in his heart that this opportunity should be used to theuttermost. It would bring him once more before the public which oncehad favoured him. He would take care he did not sink into obscurityagain.
It was dusk before he left with his part perfect, and everything learnedthat Grey could teach him. As his footsteps clattered down the woodenstairs, Grey sank back exhausted into his chair, closing his eyes inutter lassitude. It was more than an hour before he moved, and thennothing but the necessity for giving food to Wylde would have rousedhim.
The Old Lion was awake now, and his breathing, though very rapid, wassomewhat easier. He was excessively weak; but the quiet day spent inthe warm attic and without any exertion on his part had not been withouteffect, and there was more comprehension in the gaze now bent uponGrey's face than he had seen there since the previous night, when theold man had been taken suddenly ill.
"What is the matter, boy, and what have you been doing all day? Who wasthat went out at dusk? Methought it looked like young Lionel Field."
"It was he, sir. He came to learn--or rather to perfect--the part ofthe Youth. You and I are to take a week's holiday, and enjoy a resttogether. Your cough is too bad for you to go abroad, and I have burntmy hands and must needs get them healed ere I step the boards again.Anthony Frewen and Lionel Field will take our places for the nonce; andafter we are restored to our former health, and strength, the publicwill welcome us back the more gladly for our absence."
The Old Lion's eyes flashed suddenly from beneath their heavy lids. Hehalf raised himself in his bed.
"I shall never tread the boards again. My acting days are done. Imurmur not. I have had my heart's desire. I can now depart in peace.But you, boy--you! Why have you given up the place that was yours? Ihear the knell tolling for you too. Not for your life--nay, you willlive after these limbs are laid in the grave; but for your triumph--foryour fame. You have given up your birthright to the supplanter. Youwill never take your rightful place again--never--never!"
Grey smiled at the sorrowful intensity with which these words werespoken. He laid the old man down, and spoke to him soothingly.
"Nay, do not fear; do not let such thoughts trouble you. I have seenMr. Butler. All will be well. My place will be kept for me till myreturn. When I am able for it, I shall play the 'Youth' again; and wewill live upon the proceeds till you are hale and strong; and then youshall write a great play which shall hold the whole world captive andenthralled. But now trouble not yourself of these matters. Only rest,and all will be well."
"Well, well; yes, for me all will soon be well," was the old man'sdreamy answer. "But for you, my son--for you, what will befall? FickleFortune did smile at you; but her smile has changed to a frown. The opendoor is closing in your face, and where will you find another?"
Grey smiled and answered not. At the present moment he was too worn outin mind and body even to care what the future might hold.
Fallen Fortunes Page 14