“Nay, nay; I was in the wrong; it was my caprice, but carried out solely on your behalf, child,” said Peggy.
“On my behalf? Oh, you are quite right; I was beginning to forget myself—to forget that I was but a provincial actress.”
“Oh, you good natured creature!” cried Peggy. “I'll have to begin all over again.”
They had reached the stage door by this time, and were standing together in the long passage when a tall and good-looking man was admitted, enquiring for Miss Hoppner. Peggy did not fail to notice the brightening of the color of her companion as the gentleman advanced and took off his hat with a low bow. It was with a certain proprietary air that Miss Hoppner presented him to Peggy, by the name of Captain Joycelyn, of the Royal Scots.
“Captain Joycelyn is one of your warmest admirers, Mrs. Woffington,” said Miss Hoppner.
“Sir, I am overwhelmed,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a deep courtesy.
“Nay, madam, I am your servant, I swear,” said the gentleman. “I have often longed for this honor, but it ever seemed out of my reach. We of the Royal Scots consider ourselves no mean judges of your art, and we agree that the playhouse without Mrs. Woffington would be lusterless.”
“Ah, sir, you would still have Mrs. Clive,” suggested Peggy.
“Mrs. Clive? You can afford to be generous, madam,” laughed Captain Joycelyn.
“She is the most generous woman alive,” said Miss Hoppner. “She will prove herself such if she converses with you here for five minutes. I was going away forgetting that I had to talk to the wardrobe mistress about my turban. I shall not be more than five minutes away.”