“Madam,” said he, “she is a Christian woman.”
“Ah, Dr. Goldsmith,” said the actress, “a very small amount of Christian charity is thought sufficient for the equipment of a Christian woman. Let that pass, however; what I want of you is to join us at supper on Thursday night. It is to take place in the Shakespeare tavern round the corner, and, of course, in a private room; but I do not want you to appear boldly, as if I had invited you beforehand to partake of my hospitality. You must come into the room when we have begun, carrying with you a roll of manuscript, which you must tell me contains a scene of your new comedy, upon which we are daily in consultation, mind you.”
“I shall not fail to recollect,” said Goldsmith. “Why, 'tis like the argument of a comedy, Mrs. Abingdon; I protest I never invented one more elaborate. I rather fear to enter upon it.”
“Nay, you must be in no trepidation, sir,” said the lady. “I think I know the powers of the various members of the cast of this little drama of mine, so you need not think that you will be put into a part which you will not be able to play to perfection.”
“You are giving me a lesson in playwriting. Pray continue the argument. When I enter with the imaginary scene of my new piece, you will, I trust, ask me to remain to supper; you see I grudge the gentleman the pleasure of your society for even an hour.”
“I will ask you to join us at the table, and then—well, then I have a notion that between us we should have no great difficulty making our friend drink a sufficient quantity of wine to cause him to make known all his secrets to us, even as to where he keeps those precious letters of his.”
Oliver's face did not exhibit any expression that the actress could possibly interpret as a flattering tribute to her ingenuity—the fact being that he was greatly disappointed at the result of her contriving. Her design was on a level of ingenuity with that which might occur to a romantic school miss. Of course the idea upon which it was founded had formed the basis of more than one comedy—he had a notion that if these comedies had not been written Mrs. Abing ton's scheme would not have been so clearly defined.
She perceived the expression on his face and rightly interpreted it.
“What, sir!” she cried. “Do you fail to perceive the singular ingenuity of my scheme? Nay, you must remember that 'tis my first attempt—not at scheming, to be sure, but at inventing a design for a play.”
“I would not shrink from making use of your design if I were writing a play, dear lady,” said he. “But then, you see, it would be in my power to make my villain speak at the right moments and hold his peace at the right moments. It would also be in my power to make him confess all that was necessary for the situation. But alas! madam, it makes me sometimes quite hopeless of Nature to find how frequently she disregards the most ordinary precepts of art.”