“Good gracious! what’s that?” he exclaimed.
“Oh,” said the young lady, “that’s Mr. Leighton; he’s just tried to commit suicide!”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed the clergyman, horrified. “How terrible—let me go to him.” And before anybody could stop him he had rushed through the door.
At first he could not see where he was for things sticking out here and there; but presently, through some scenery, he saw a young fellow lying on the floor, with a pistol beside him. A gentleman was leaning over him and feeling his heart.
“He is not dead,” said the gentleman; “thank God! thank God!”
Our clergyman said, “Thank God!” too, and rushed to where the young gentleman was lying, and said, “Oh, my unhappy young friend, how could you do such a terrible thing! I am a clergyman; let me——”
Before he could say another word there was a wild roar of voices, and the suicide sat up and said, “What the——”
And the people at the sides yelled, “Mind your head.” And the curtain came down with a bang.
And then the clergyman knew he had made a dreadful mistake, and that it was all in the play, because the suicide jumped up and said, “What in heaven’s name do you mean, sir?” And the manager came on and was furious, and the people in front of the house were yelling and hooting, and there was a nice commotion.
The poor clergyman, who was quite bewildered and covered with perspiration, tried to explain that he had never been in a theatre before in his life, and knew nothing about it; that, hearing Mr. Leighton had committed suicide, he thought it was because of his love affair, and having come from where the young lady he loved was lying very ill, he thought it his duty as a minister to rush on and say a word or two to the poor sinner before he died.