But to Blanche, the pantomime had all the charm of novelty. She stood entranced, gazing at the stage with eager, upturned face. More than one frequenter of the theatre observed with amusement the eager little girl, who was not content to view the scene from her comfortable chair in the box, but kept leaning forward, in a bewilderment of happiness, notwithstanding her cousin's mild suggestions that she would be very tired before the end of the play if she did not sit down.
Every scene was more charming and wonderful than the one which went before. The fun among the wee green folks was getting more fast and furious every minute. Blanche thought they looked like dragon-flies in the sunshine, as they went flitting about. It had not occurred to her that they were real flesh and blood creatures like herself, till, suddenly, one dazzling little elf fell from a giddy height, on to the stage. For a moment, Blanche fancied that the descent of the fairy was all part of the fun; but presently a shrill cry of human pain, and a few compassionate voices from the crowd below, caused her to realize that underneath the mass of gauze and gilt there was a poor body in pain.
In an instant the poor crushed fairy was borne away from the bright scene, and the fun went on again in mad hurly-burly. But, somehow, Blanche's eyes had grown dim, and she shrank back on her seat with a shudder.
"Why, what's the matter, cousin Blanche?" whispered the imperturbable little Lady Matilda, as she surveyed her cousin's movement with mild surprise.
"Oh, didn't you see, Matty? I'm afraid it must be awfully hurt. It fell from such a height—the fairy, I mean. Didn't you hear it cry? it sounded so dreadful when we were al' so happy. I never dreamt they could feel."
Lady Matilda showed a row of pearly teeth as she replied, "Why, yes, of course. How odd you are, Blanche. Didn't you know they are poor children, who do all this for money? I should think they must be quite used to falling by this time."
Blanche was horror-struck. She tried to avert her eyes from the stage, but, in spite of herself, she felt her glance riveted on the hovering fairies, not in delight now, but in terror, lest another of them should fall.
"Little girls who do it for bread," Blanche repeated to herself, as she leant back on her seat, and covered her face with her hands. And as she sat thus, her thoughts went slipping back to the Highland glen. She remembered the elfish-looking little form that gazed in upon her at the window of the old castle, on that autumn morning; and she shuddered to think how, under other circumstances, her friend Morag might have been such a victim. Then she began to think of the poor fairy; she wondered whether she was dreadfully hurt, and resolved that she should beg Miss Prosser to make inquiries before they left the theatre.
It was with a feeling of relief that she saw the curtain drop at last, and the people begin to move away. Then she made an eager appeal that they should go and ask after the child. The request seemed utterly outrageous when first presented to Miss Prosser's mind; but Blanche was so urgent that, at last, she consented to dispatch the maid to make inquiries behind the scenes. Then Blanche began to plead to be allowed to go, too. She was so very eager that her governess, at last, after many injunctions to the maid, gave a reluctant consent, arranging that she should wait in the box with the little Lady Matilda, who seemed to view her impetuous cousin's movements with unfeigned astonishment, not unmixed with annoyance.
Blanche was all trembling with excitement when the maid took her hand, and they began to thread their way through the corridors, which were getting emptied now. Presently they met a man who was putting out the lights, and the maid stopped to ask where they could go to inquire after the hurt fairy. Having got directions how to proceed, they went on through narrower and less luxurious passages—so dark and dingy-looking that Blanche began to feel afraid, and grasped her maid's hand more tightly. They came at last to a room, the door of which stood half open. They were hesitating whether this was the room to which they had been directed, when they heard a thin, feeble voice within, moaning, as if in pain.