“Not at all,” said this splendid-looking ecclesiastic, seating himself gaily. “I never take anything of that sort till my work is done.”
“But you must be fearfully exhausted after such a big scene?”
“No. It is the eighth performance this week, and the second to-day; but I’m not really tired, and love my work, although I do enjoy my Sunday’s rest.”
Mr. Willard looks handsomer off the stage than on. His strong face seems to have a kindlier smile, his manner to be even more courtly, and I was particularly struck with the fact that he wore little or no make-up.
“You are an Englishman,” I said, “and yet you have deserted your native land for America?”
“Not so. I’m English, of course, though I love America,” was the reply. “Seven years ago I went across the Atlantic and was successful, then I had a terrible illness which lasted three years. When I was better I did not dare start afresh in England and risk failure, so I began again in the States, where I was sure of the dollars. They have been so kind to me over there that I do not now like to leave them. You see America is so enormous, the constant influx of emigrants so great, one can go on playing the same piece for years and years, as Jefferson is still doing in Rip van Winkle. Here new plays are constantly wanted, and even if an actor is an old favourite he cannot drag a poor play to success. Management in London has become a risky matter. Expenses are enormous, and a few failures mean ruin.”
Alas! at that moment the wretched little bell which heralds a new act rang forth, and I barely had time to reach the box before Mr. Willard was once more upon the stage, continuing his masterly performance. He is an actor of strong personality, and can ill be spared from England’s shores.
But to return to the provinces, and the experiences of the pretty little actress.
“The familiarity which necessarily exists between the sexes,” continued she, “both in acting together at night, and rehearsing together by day, is in itself a danger to some girls who are unfortunate enough to be thrown into close companionship with unprincipled men, and have not sufficient worldly wisdom or instinct to guard against their advances.