The call for Lottie and Oswin was determined, so after the soldiers had called out their favourite officers, Oswin brought the girl forward, and the enthusiasm was very great. Lottie then went off, and for a few moments Markham remained alone upon the stage. He was most heartily applauded, and, after acknowledging the compliment, he was just stepping back, when from the centre of the seats a man's voice came, loud and clear:
“Bravo, old boy! you're a trump wherever you turn up.”
There was a general moving of heads, and some laughter in the front rows.
But Oswin Markham looked from where he was standing on the stage down to the place whence that voice seemed to come. He neither laughed nor smiled, only stepped back behind the curtain.
The stage was now crowded with the actors and their friends; everybody was congratulating everybody else. Lottie was in the highest spirits.
“Could anything have been more successful?” she cried again to Oswin Markham. He looked at her without answering for some moments. “I don't know,” he said at last. “Successful? perhaps so.”
“What on earth do you mean?” she asked; “are you afraid of the Natal critics?”
“No, I can't say I am.”
“Of what then?”
“There is a person at the door who wishes to speak to you, Mr. Markham,” said one of the servants coming up to Oswin. “He says he doesn't carry cards, but you will see his name here,” and he handed Oswin an envelope.