This word in my ear was a whispered request for a trifling loan of two shillings and sevenpence. He always asked for loans in a whisper, even when there was no third person near. It was not the first time I had lent old Mac small sums of money, and I pulled three shillings from my pocket, not having the coins for the exact sum. He gravely gave me fivepence change.
'Thank you, my son,' he said, 'and now, a word to the wise. On a certain morning you and I went to the Rialto--no, to a rehearsal in which our fair friend took part.'
'Yes.'
'You confided your woes to me, not in words perhaps, but in look, accent, manner. Old Mac knows the signs. The liquid eye, the tremulous tone, the sighs that come unbidden. I saw them all, my son, and my sympathising breast received them as a sacred deposit. You remember the lines I quoted: "Her lips to mine how often did she join!" But I see that you are impatient, my son. You said to me then that you believed that I was your friend. I answered in suitable terms. The word to the action, the action to the word. Shake hands, my son.' By this time I had fully made up my mind that old Mac was tipsy, although he was as steady as a rock; it was only his voice that betrayed him. 'To continue. You drew my attention to two persons who shall be nameless, one of whom was paying attentions to the other, and you asked what it meant. I replied in general terms, and after warning you to beware of the green-eyed monster, I said that I would find out, in a quiet way, what those intentions meant, and that I would let you know, in a quiet way. Am I correct, and do you follow me?'
I said that he was quite correct, and that I was following his words.
'I placed myself at once in communication with our fair friend----'
I was surprised into an exclamation by this information. In no way disturbed, old Mac went on.
'I did. I placed myself at once in communication with our fair friend----'
'You did not mention my name, I hope,' I could not help saying.
'Was I born yesterday, do you think, my son, or the day before? I had some slight acquaintance with our fair friend, as you know, and I threw myself in her way. That is what I mean when I say I placed myself in communication with her. I read her part for her, and gave her a hint or two, which she received and thanked me for in a manner very different from some lady stars I could mention, who think themselves above tuition because they have pretty faces, and because they happen to have made a third- or a fourth-rate success. They come to grief in the long-run, my son, these clever ladies. They shine for a little while, with much outside pushing and puffing, and then, Out, out, brief candle! Our fair friend is a different kind of creature. She is amiability, sweetness, and modesty combined, and when the old actor ventured to throw out a hint or two as to emphasis in certain places, as to appropriate action, as to where and how a point could be made, she received them with gratitude and deference. Damme, my son! the old actor could not help wishing he was a thirty years younger man; and then again he was glad he wasn't, because it might have interfered with the chances of a young friend of his, whom he sees before him now. But if I don't hurry on with my story, you will be applying to me Hamlet's words to Polonius, "These tedious old fools!" The old actor doesn't mind giving himself a rub, you see. Well, having fairly established himself in the sweet graces of the young lady, old Mac, from his point of observation, kept one eye steadily fixed upon a certain gentleman whose name commences with G, and who seems to have a habit of biting his nails--a sign of ill-temper, my son. Old Mac was on the watch, my son--"On the Watch," a fine title for a drama, and I wish I had time to write it. This gentleman whose name commences with G did not appear to relish the observation of the old actor, which was not, for that reason, relaxed, depend upon it. And now, old Mac has but few words to add. If, having reason to suspect the honesty of the intentions of this gentleman whose name commences with a G, the old actor sounded him artfully, and learnt enough to convince him that his suspicions were correct, and if, being thus satisfied or dissatisfied, the old actor gradually and delicately opened a certain young lady's eyes to the true state of affairs, you may depend that he did it partly out of the friendship he entertains for a fine young fellow--shake hands, my son--partly out of his contempt for a certain person whose fingers are always playing with his moustache, but chiefly out of his admiration for a young lady whose beauty, grace, virtue, and modesty are unparalleled in the experience of an old fellow who has seen the world, and knows the stuff that men and women are made of.'