'Yes, assuredly, my dear.' (Another sign of familiarity which displeased me. I did not mind it from the members of the West family; there was a homely and honest ring of affection in the term as they used it, but it sounded quite differently from Mr. Rackstraw's lips.) 'A great deal.'
'And it would cost money?'
'Well, yes,' he said promptly, 'it would cost money--but not much, not much. Josey, I took the liberty of bringing a friend with me--Mr. Glover.'
Mr. Glover, the best-dressed man in the room, tall and dark, and between forty and fifty years of age, was the gentleman I had noticed who, alone among the audience, did not appear to belong to the dramatic profession. I had not paid any attention to him during the evening, but upon this direct reference I turned towards him, and saw at a glance, in my closer observance of him, that his station in life was higher than ours. Being introduced to Jessie, he thanked her for a most pleasant evening.
'I am not a frequenter of theatres,' he said, 'but if you were upon the stage, I think I should be tempted to come very often to see you.' He spoke well and slowly, and with the manner of a person who was accustomed to reflect upon each word before it passed his lips. When he and his friend were gone, Josey West informed us that Mr. Rackstraw was a person of the greatest influence. Not only did he prepare young ladies for the stage, she said, but he was in connection with a theatrical agency, where important engagements were effected. Gus's name was down upon the books of this agency, and having in this way made Mr. Rackstraw's personal acquaintance, he had induced him to come down and see Jessie act. Josey was in high spirits because everything had gone off so well.
'It is a real, complete, and splendid success,' she said, 'and ought to be repeated every evening until further notice. Hark--old Mac's going to speak!'
The old actor had risen, glass in hand, and had expressed his wish to address a few words to the company--an intimation which was received with vociferous and lengthened applause.
'Brothers and sisters in the noblest of all noble professions,' he said, 'this reception is not only cheering, but, coming upon me when I am in the sere and yellow----'(Here there were cries of 'No, no, old fellow; you've a good twenty years before you yet!')--'I use the language of those base and envious detractors who say it is time the old actor was laid on the shelf. Using their words, then, which Avon's Swan never thought would be so misapplied, this reception coming upon me when I am in the sere and yellow, is not only cheering but affecting. It recalls the memory of times when the humble individual before you never stepped upon the boards without one, and when old Mac's place--his proper and legitimate place in the ranks, won by the force of genius and hard study----'(Cries of 'Bravo, Mac! Go it!')--'I mean to--when his legitimate place, won, as I have said, by the force of hard study and genius, was not occupied by pretenders. But tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis----' (The applause here lasted for full a minute) 'O yes, old Mac can show these pretenders the way to go! Tempora mutantur, et cetera, my sons, and may you never find it out in the same way as the humble individual who stands before you has! But it was not to speak of myself that I rose--the old actor never cares to thrust himself forward'--(general and good-humoured laughter)--'knowing as he does that the subject is weary, stale, and unprofitable. He knows that he is but "a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more!" But damme, my sons, the poor player is happy to know that in his old age he has honour, love, and, if not obedience, troops of friends.' ('So you have, old boy! Go on!') 'I intend to. I drink to you. Give me the cup. Nay, I have it'--(with a humorous look)--'not sparkling to the brim, but 'twill serve. "Let the kettle to the trumpet speak. The trumpet to the cannoneer without. The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth." Old Mac drinks to those he loves!' (As the speaker drained his glass, the youngster who played the cornopean performed a flourish upon the instrument, and the other members of the company did their best to produce an appropriate demonstration.) 'But to the point. We have witnessed to-night a most remarkable performance by a young lady, who I am informed has never appeared upon the boards--a young lady who is destined to occupy a distinguished position--mark me, a distinguished position--and may old Mac live to see it! She has youth, she has grace, she has beauty, she has genius. In her presence I say it, my sons. The old actor knows a pretender when he sees him, and he knows genius when he sees it; he sees it here. In proposing the toast of this young lady's health' (Mac placed his glass upon the table, and waited until it was refilled), 'and in wishing her the success that always should, but sometimes doesn't, wait on merit, old Mac knows that he is performing a task which every one of you would like to have performed in his place. But damme, my sons, while old Mac lives, the old school of gallantry will never die out.'
How the toast was received, and with what enthusiasm it was drunk; how they all surrounded Jessie and petted her and complimented her; how she blushed and trembled at the praises which were showered upon her; and how these honours seemed to remove her farther and farther from me,--I have not the power to describe. It was two o'clock in the morning before the company broke up, and Jessie and I walked home. My heart was full almost to bursting, and I could not trust myself to speak. Not a word passed between us, but with Jessie's arm closely entwined in mine, and with her hand clasped in mine, I felt that without her I would not wish to live. When we reached home, I knocked softly at the street-door, but no answer came. I knocked more loudly, but still there was no answer. Surprised that my mother was not waiting up for us, I tried the handle of the door, and found that it was unlocked. I closed the street-door, and we entered the sitting-room, where a candle was burning. My mother was there, sitting by the table, with her head on her arm. I approached her in some alarm, and saw that she was asleep; her dreams must have been distressing ones, for she was sobbing bitterly.