London's Heart: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

The only place Felix could obtain in the theatre was at the back of the pit, but as he could see the box in which Lily was seated, he was satisfied. Lily and Lizzie were sitting in the front of the box, and bending over them occasionally were Mr. Sheldrake and Alfred. A great many opera-glasses were levelled admiringly at the box, at which marks of attention Mr. Sheldrake was mightily pleased, taking himself, and with justice, the credit of having brought to the theatre the two prettiest girls in it. Soon after Felix's entrance, the curtain rose upon the dramatised version of The Polish Jew.

The gloom of this play was perfect; there was no light in it. No interest was taken in the love-story comprised in the courtship of Christian and Annette; no spark of tender sympathy was touched in the breast of one of the spectators. The attention of all was centred in the figure of Mathias the burgomaster and in his terrible life. When, at the end of the first act, the curtain fell on the agony of the undiscovered murderer, every trace of colour which the animation of the theatre and the excitement of the lights and bustle had brought into Lily's face, had departed from it. Mr. Sheldrake was loud in his applause. "It was a wonderful piece! A grand conception! And how well the principal actor plays the part of the burgomaster!" Alfred was also pleased with it, but neither of the girls liked it. Towards the end of the act Lizzie wanted Lily to shift her seat to the back of the box, but Lily whispered "No, no!" and was not conscious that she spoke. She was fascinated, and could not move. The two men, of course, went out for refreshment, and sent in some for the girls, which neither of them touched. The second act commenced and progressed, and the horror of the piece increased in intensity; when the curtain again fell upon the wild delirium of the murderer, Lily shuddered as if she were suffering his agonies. Alfred and Mr. Sheldrake addressed her, but she did not answer, did not seem indeed to heed or hear them. Seeing that Lily would not move from her conspicuous position in the box, Lizzie shifted her seat to the back of her friend's and put her arm round Lily's waist, and clasped her hand; it was nearly cold, notwithstanding the heat of the crowded theatre.

Lizzie whispered to Alfred not to speak to Lily, but to wait until the ghastly piece was over, and she whispered also that she wished he had taken them to see something lighter and more lively. Alfred, feeling remorseful at first, said he did not know what kind of a piece it was, and then turned petulant, and called Lizzie ungrateful. On another occasion, this would have led to a lovers' quarrel, but Lizzie's attention was otherwise occupied just now. During the progress of the horrors contained in the last act, the hand which Lizzie clasped grew icy cold, and Lizzie herself was compelled to turn her face from the ghastly picture upon which the curtain finally fell.

"Come, Lily," said Lizzie, in a cheerful voice, delighted that the horrible curiosity was at an end.

But Lily's feelings were overwrought, and for answer she sank fainting to the ground.

"Get away from her!" cried Lizzie to Mr. Sheldrake, who was stooping to raise her.

Mr. Sheldrake, amazed at the fierceness in the girl's voice, bit his lip and obeyed her. If he had put his thoughts into words, he would have said, "You little tiger-cat, I will pay you for this!" Lily drew Lizzie to the back of the box, out of sight of the audience, whose attention had been aroused by the bustle. "That pretty girl has fainted," said some; "did you see how white she turned before the piece was over?"

The rising of the people in the pit prevented Felix from seeing what had occurred; but he had noticed Lily's pallor and the horrible fascination which the drama had for her. He had resolved upon his line of action, and now he hurried out of the theatre, and engaged a cab.

"I want you," he said to the cabman, "to follow a party that I shall point out to you, who will either walk or ride, and to follow them in such a manner as not to be observed. If you succeed in this, double fare."

The cabman knew a gentleman, that is, a man whose money was sure, when he saw him, and he raised his whip to his hat, and said, "All right, sir, I'm awake;" and drew his cab to a convenient spot.