"You must have taken to the stage young?" said he.
"The stage!" said Waife; "if you mean the public stage, no. I have acted pretty often in youth, even in childhood, to amuse others, never professionally to support myself, till Mr. Rugge civilly engaged me four years ago."
"Is it possible,—with your excellent education! But pardon me; I have hinted my surprise at your late vocation before, and it displeased you."
"Displeased me!" said Waife, with an abject, depressed manner; "I hope
I said nothing that would have misbecome a poor broken vagabond like me.
I am no prince in disguise,—a good-for-nothing varlet who should be too
grateful to have something to keep himself from a dunghill."
LIONEL.—"Don't talk so. And but for your accident you might now be the great attraction on the metropolitan stage. Who does not respect a really fine actor?"
WAIFE (gloomily).—"The metropolitan stage! I was talked into it: I am glad even of the accident that saved me; say no more of that, no more of that. But I have spoiled your sitting. Sophy, you see, has left her chair."
"I have done for to-day," said Vance; "to-morrow, and my task is ended."
Lionel came up to Vance and whispered him; the painter, after a pause, nodded silently, and then said to Waife,
"We are going to enjoy the fine weather on the Thames (after I have put away these things), and shall return to our inn—not far hence—to sup, at eight o'clock. Supper is our principal meal; we rarely spoil our days by the ceremonial of a formal dinner. Will you do us the favour to sup with us? Our host has a wonderful whiskey, which when raw is Glenlivat, but refined into toddy is nectar. Bring your pipe, and let us hear John Kemble again."
Waife's face lighted up. "You are most kind; nothing I should like so much. But—" and the light fled, the face darkened—"but no; I cannot —you don't know—that is—I—I have made a vow to myself to decline all such temptations. I humbly beg you'll excuse me."