‘The more she snubs you the more you ought to pursue her. Show your devotion to her—go to the church—seem to be interested in her crotchets—and take my word for it, her sympathies will soon turn in your direction.’
Father and son continued to talk for some time in the same strain, and after an hour’s conversation Sir George went away in a better humour. George drest himself carefully, and when it was about midday hailed a cab and was driven down to the Gaiety Theatre, where he had an appointment with Miss Dottie Destrange. The occasion was one of those matinées when aspiring amateurs attempt to take critical opinion by storm, and the débutante this time was a certain Mrs. Temple Grainger, who was to appear as ‘Juliet’ in the Hunchback, and afterwards as ‘Juliet’ in the famous balcony scene of Shakespeare’s play. Mrs. Grainger, whose husband was somewhere in the mysterious limbo of mysterious husbands, called India, was well known in a certain section of society, and no less a person than His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales had promised to be present at her début.
George was to join Miss Destrange in the stalls, where he duly found her, and was greeted with a careless smile. The seats all round were thronged with well-known members of society; actresses, actors, critics. The Prince was already in his box, and the curtain was just ringing up.
It is no part of my business to chronicle the success or failure of Mrs. Temple Grainger; but, if cheers and floral offerings signify anything, she was in high favour with her audience. At the end of the second act, George Craik rose and surveyed the house through his opera glass. As he did so, he was conscious of a figure saluting him from one of the stage boxes, and to his surprise he recognised—Mrs. Montmorency.
She was gorgeously drest in black, and liberally painted and powdered. George bowed to her carelessly; when to his surprise she beckoned him to her.
He rose from his seat and walked over to the side of the stalls immediately underneath her box. She leant over to him, and they shook hands.
‘Will you come in?’ she said. ‘I want to speak to you.’
He nodded, passed round to the back of the box, entered, and took a seat by the lady’s side.
‘I thought you were still in Paris,’ he said.
‘I came over about a fortnight ago,’ she replied. ‘I suppose you have heard of his lordship’s death?’