AT REHEARSAL.
As the curtain falls upon a scene in a drama, and when it rises again so many years are supposed to have elapsed, so between the closing of the last chapter and the opening of this six months must be supposed to have passed. We are again in London. My mother, thank God, is well, and I have within me the happy assurance that I have nursed her into health; the doctor has told me so, my mother herself has repeated it a hundred times, and I believe it and am humbly grateful.
We are living near to Paradise-row, but not in uncle Bryan's shop. My mother, knowing all that occurred on Jessie's birthday, showed no surprise when, on returning to London, I took her to some comfortable rooms I had engaged, and said that these were to be our home. She made only one remark--she hoped I would not have any objection to her going to the shop occasionally to see Josey West. I told her I should be glad if she went, and that I intended to go there myself very often.
We are as happy as we can reasonably expect to be. That we have sorrows is certain; but we refrain from speaking of them. We are as silent concerning our hopes, if we have any.
Nothing has been heard of uncle Bryan; Josey West conducts the business as though she had been born to it, and it is really prospering under her management. She is such a favourite with all the neighbours, that her customers increase every week, and the takings are nearly doubled.
'I think we shall be able to set up a plate window soon,' says Josey West, with a grand air. 'The sale of the pills is astonishing, my dear, astonishing! Do you know, Chris, I feel quite like a respectable member of society! I shall soon begin to turn up my nose at play-actors, who are nothing but vagrants, my dear, nothing but vagrants. And they're bad paymasters, Chris; I've two of them on my books already.'
When I ask her about Jessie, Josey says that she's all right, and that I have no occasion to bother myself about her. I can extract nothing more from her than this, and if I endeavour to press the subject further, she turns snappish.
My mother and I have had many conversations about uncle Bryan, and I think one great cause of her contentment is the altered state of my feelings towards him, which I do not disguise from her. I am prospering in a worldly sense, and when I feel most despondent I work the hardest; it is a relief to me. My name has appeared in print, connected with words of praise, and I often wonder whether Jessie has seen it. As for my mother, when I brought home the paper containing the two lines in which my work was spoken of favourably, I thought she would have gone wild with joy. I am afraid to say how many times she must have read the few ordinary words, but, knowing what a delight they are to her, I am glad that I have earned them for her sake.
In this way the months roll on. With reference to my feelings towards Jessie, I shall be almost as silent now as I was at home during that time. Sufficient to say that I never forgot her, and that I never loved her less; but her name is rarely mentioned at home.
There is one person, however, to whom I speak of Jessie freely--to Turk West. Turk is getting along capitally in his shop, and has already paid off more than half his debt to Mr. Glover. I see this gentleman occasionally in Turk's shop; Turk shaves him, and dresses his hair for him two or three times a week; whenever I go into the shop and see him there, I retire immediately. I have no wish to injure Turk's business, and when I reason calmly over matters I cannot see what tangible ground of complaint I have against Mr. Glover--which does not lessen my detestation of him.