"Madam, you know well't is my wish to serve you and yours. But seeing this invitation, there's thoughts comes into my head that I must needs speak out. This" (she flicked the card) "is the life for the Miss Gunnings, and not the stage. 'T would scarce become me to tell a lady like yourself what must be faced there, but--but--'t is much! Ask Peg Woffington--ask Kitty Clive--ask George Anne Bellamy!" She hung her head.
There was silence. Mrs G. stared at her, all aghast.
"Why, yesterday, all your talk was of pleasure and success. Sure, dear Mrs Bellamy, 't was not like your kindness to draw on the poor things till they can think of naught else, and now so far otherwise."
"Why, Madam, I thought there was no other way; and if so, needs must. But seeing this, my mind misgives me and I falter. I'm a plain-dealer, Madam, with all my faults, and 't is easy to be seen your daughters are a world's wonder. I never saw the like, and that being so, 't is certain the dangers are tenfold for them. They'll see the glories and grandeurs, sure enough, but not through a wedding ring."
"If you mean, Madam, that my daughters--" Mrs Gunning flamed out, furious; but George Anne was not to be turned from her purpose. She raised her hand in a fine stage attitude.
"Madam, I wish vastly to serve you. Hear my proposal. Accept this invitation."
"Impossible. We have no dresses, no shoes, no equipage, and no means to get them. 'T is absurd!"
"'Tis not absurd. Hear me. In the theatre properties is a fine dress for Lady Modish and two more for Peggy and Susan Careless. Not perhaps what such ladies might expect, but passable. And--I know men. There's not a man will look at their gowns for looking at their faces, though the suits are well enough when all's said. I vow, Madam, you have so long lived beside the two that you forget what beauties they are. I wager my next benefit to a China orange that you'll have no more care once they are seen, but all the women mad with jealousy and the men with love. Indeed, your young madams are what one reads of in romances, but don't see. Give them this chance, and if it fails, I'm good for my offer; but I'm much mistook if you hold me to it. Gemini, Madam; use your wits! Would you have them what I won't name, when they may be what your old witch foretold?"
She smiled her charming smile, and pressed Mrs G.'s hand. The lady pondered. 'Twas disagreeable to owe such a thing to a mere actress, and one, too, whose reputation was a trifle flyblown. The stage she might have swallowed--being the lady's province and she a queen on the boards. But an entry to the world where she and her daughters had a birthright--Fie! 'twas a very different pair of shoes. But George Anne had that in her eye that would be obeyed; and seeing it, Mrs G. dropped her high tone and returned the pressure with an air of sensibility.
"'Twas said by old Corrigan that 'twas you to bring us luck, dearest Madam, and 'tis certain you are prudence itself. Sure a mother can risk nothing for her darlings. If you will ensure us the dresses, I accept; and, indeed, my Lord Harrington's father was a friend of my own revered father in happier days. 'T is possible--"