Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 109: what you’re looking at

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THE BALLET-GIRL’S REVENGE. 103 upon the ground beneath it are the marks of a ladder having been placed against it.’’ “And are these all the proofs you have of this strange affair ?” ‘Not quite. A cloak and a black mask were found beside the bed.” .“Then we must make it our business to sift the matter.” - - * Ea * * Tt was night. . Night—the day and glory of the theatrical pro- fessional world. The Theatre Royal was full. This was an unusual occurrence for Chowler in his trips, and was duly appreciated by the worthy little manager. He darted hither and thither in the greatest glee. The prompter had the word and ‘‘ rang up”’ for the opening farce. Ascreamer it was, to play the people in. Chowler played the comic man of the piece—an outrageous cockney, with impossible h’s, and a reversion of the w and v which was never yet met with out of a comic novel or an Irish or American farce. But in the provinces the farce had been found (in professional slang) ‘‘ to go no end of a pot.” So Chowler produced it upon every conceivable occasion. Every joke brought down the house. When Chowler appeared with his hat crushed, his coat torn, and his hair hanging all over his fore- head every one roared with delight. And Chowler, in his professional pride, forgot every- thing else. The terrors of the night which he had passed with Rose Mortimer in the garden of the house, and the misery and the alarming termination to his vigil out- side of it were no more thought of. Chowler eclipsed himself. At length the farce was over, and down came the curtain to a showers of applause. Showler had to make a gracious answer to an una- nimous call and amidst thunder of applause. Then the prompter rang up for the Mountain Gorge. The audience were now put into admirable humour by Chowler and the farce, and were prepared to like anything and everything. The opening scene, sunset effect, brought down the house with arun. Then Miss Mortimer, the dumb boy, made her appearance. Rose’s pretty face and comely person was set off to great advantage by the dress she wore for the part, and she had a greeting that set all the rest of the com- pany dying of envy, Rose was in excellent spirits now, and played with much animation. The first scene closed with a dangerous tableaux which stirred up the audience. Then Rose had to open the second scene with a bit of solo pantomime. This brought her close to the footlights, and she had time and opportunity to survey the whole of the andience. But of all the company present she could only see one individual. In the right hand stage-box a lady and gentle- man were conversing in a low tone the whole time of the performance, evidently notin the remotest degree interested with the adventures of the dumb boy. Once Rose caught the sound of the lady’s voice in a little higher tone than that in which she had pre- viously spoken. Great Heavens! bered. It was a voice she well remem- The form, too, she felt she had seen upon some former occasion. A wild suspicion flitted through her mind, but she hushed it at once. It was so improbable. : She almost imagined that the lady in the box and the wicked woman who held the lantern over the old man for the perpetration of the assassination in: the lone house were one. “No, no,”’ she thought, “itis impossible, She would never be here if it were she.” Here Rose’s thoughts were so abstracted that she quite forgot the dumb boy and the expressive panto- mime which she ought to have gone through. She stood still some few minutes with her eyes riveted upon the box. The audience, thinking that this was a portion of ° the play and most naturally acted, began to applaud. The prompter, however, was in the greatest de- spair at her strange conduct. ‘* Miss Mortimer,” he whispered at the wing, ‘‘ Miss Mortimer.”’ But Rose could not be brought back to her presence of mind with a word. The prompter was frantic. Chowler came running up. ‘¢ What is it ?” ‘‘Our new hand, Miss Mortimer, has made a dead stop.”’ i Chowler caught a glimpse of our heroine just as she had recovered her presence of mind and was con- tinuing the piece. Chowler could not understand it. He was all impatience until Miss Mortimer came off the stage. Then he eagerly questioned her. “ Oh! Mr. Chowler,” said Rose, “1 have seen that woman, I am sure.” ee Who Lice ‘‘She whom we saw last night.” Chowler looked frightened. ‘The lone house ?”” he demanded in a hoarse dra- matic whisper. cy 68;-< “© Where ?” “The O. P. stage-box.” ‘‘She? Impossible.” “No; I feel convinced it is shie.’’ “ But why ?”?, ‘¢T heard her speak.”’ «¢ And you recognised her.” “Ay, I’m sure it is she.” Chowler gave another glance at the box. “ Well, we’ll test her,” he said, “‘ I’m on almost immediately.”’ ‘“No, no,’’ said Rose, “ I would not do anything to arouse their suspicions.” ‘* Nor will J,’’ said Chowler. ‘‘ Leave itto me. The play’s the thing! Ill attend to this little matter, and be sure that we are on the right track.” “Very well.” Shortly afler this Chowler made his second ap- pearance as a‘comic Alpine lover. In this character he had to be an awful coward. ‘His great fear was a certain brigand, a kind of Mazzaroni-Fra-Diavolo-Marco-Spada individual, who haunted the mountains with a ferocious band of the vilest followers. In Chowler’s part he had to narrate some of the brigand’s atrocities, and in another he contrived to introduce, impromptu, a sketchofa little affair which bore a very close resemblance to the adventure of the previous night. At the outset the lady in the O, P. stage box grew interested. ES ne U UE EEEEEE EEE EEESEEEEES