She, too, was to appear as a page. She was to enter hurriedly—always a difficult thing for a beginner to do. She was to address Mr. Murdoch in blank verse—a more difficult thing—and implore him to come swiftly to prevent bloodshed, as a hostile meeting was taking place between young Count So-and-so and "your nephew, sir!"
This news was to shock the uncle so that he would stand dazed for a moment, when the page, looking off the stage, should cry:
"Ah, you are too late, sir, already their blades are out!
See how the foils writhe," etc.
With a cry, the uncle should recover himself, and furiously order the page to
"——call the watch!"
Alas! and alas! when the night, the play, the act, the cue came, Hattie, as handsome a boy as you could wish to see, went bravely on, as quickly, too, as her terror-chilled legs could carry her, but when she got there had no word to say—no, not one!
In a sort of icy rage, Mr. Murdoch gave her her line, speaking very low, of course:
"My lord—my lord! I do beseech you haste,
Else here is murder done!"
But the poor girl, past prompting properly, only caught wildly at the sense of the speech, and gasped out:
"Come on, quick!"