"Ah, I see; but is not her character too well known?"
"Not a bit of it; her powers of attraction are enormous still. Why, if I'm rightly informed, a Russian whom you know, I think,--Tchernigow by name,-is making the running there already."
"I know him; he was madly in love with her, I heard, the season before last; followed her to Baden and about."
"That's the man! Well, he's revenu-- not to his premier, which was probably some Cossack peasant-girl--but to one of his amours, and is desperate."
"He's enormously wealthy. If she accepted him, there might yet be a chance of happiness for Georgie,--Lady Mitford, I mean."
"Don't you believe that for an instant, Alsager!" said Dollamore, looking keenly at him; "you're not posted up in that family history. Matters have gone too far now; there is only one way in which Sir Charles Mitford could really be of service to his wife, and that is by dying. But I'm afraid she would not think so, poor girl!" Then seeing his companion looking very grave, he said, "Come, it's no use brooding over these matters; let us go to the theatre."
The theatre was crammed, as Mr. Wuff had anticipated. The audience was composed of pretty much the same class of people as those present on the first night of Mr. Spofforth's play at the Parthenium; with the exception of those who were most strongly remembered by Alsager. He had known that the Mitfords and Mrs. Hammond could not be there, and there was little to interest him among the audience. The curtain rose on the piece of the evening, and everybody's attention concentrated on the stage. Shortly afterwards came the appearance of the new actress, who was hailed with shouts of encouragement and applause by Mr. Wuff's supporters in boxes, pit, and gallery. She seemed not in the least overcome by her reception, but bowed gracefully, and entered immediately on the business of the piece. The character she played was that of a highbred wealthy girl, beloved by a young yeoman-farmer of the neighbourhood, who proposes to her, but she mocks at his gaucheries, and rejects him with scorn. He accepts his defeat, and goes away to travel on the Continent with his brother. It is not until he is gone that she finds how deeply she had really loved him; but he is gone never to return, and so she accepts the attention of, and is engaged to, a silly peer. Then comes the Nemesis. The girl's father is ruined, the peer jilts her, and she is left in wretchedness, when the yeoman-farmer comes back a polished gentleman. There is an admirable scene of intensity between them, and, of course, all ends happily. The character of the heroine seemed excellently suited for Miss Greenwood, who, gradually winning the confidence of the audience, worked them to a pitch of enthusiasm in the last scene, and brought down the curtain with a universal verdict of her combining thorough knowledge of the usages of society and ladylike manners with great dramatic power.
Of course she was recalled before the curtain; and then as she swept across the stage, clasping her bouquet to her bosom, and occasionally bowing low, her eyes lit full on those of Laurence Alsager. And then for the first time Laurence Alsager, who had been puzzling his brain about her ever since she appeared on the scene, recollected who she was, and said half aloud, "The woman who wrote me the note!--Miss Gillespie, without a doubt!"