Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 25: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

In her mind’s eye she saw again the handsome demoniacal face of the count, the splendour of the courtly house at Fulham, the waterside cottage, and the lazy plashing Thames. Then the kind motherly face of Mrs. Halliday bend- ing over her recalled her to the present, and she turned with a sigh of relief again to court slumber, but in vain. “* Rose, my dear,”’ said the old lady, ‘‘ what will you do about the theatre to-night? There is that dress of yours, which from top to bottom is a sight to see, the mud and the rents being such as no Christian needle- woman could mend, let alone a poor widow.” With something like a groan Rose strove to think of the future. What awaited her ? _ Must she again brave the dangers of the theatre ? Would not the sight of the count’s pale handsome face drive her wild with anger? Then, onthe other hand, if she were to throw up her engagement what could she do? Her father had disappeared, and there was no one in the wide world to whom she could appeal for help. Upon her employment at the theatre depended her daily bread, and she must brave all perils or starve. **T tell you what, dear,’? continued Mrs. Halliday, **T’ll setto work and make you a new skirt. It won’t take long, though when poor Halliday was alive it was but seldom I used aneedle ; but necessity is the soul of business, and I’ll domy best.’’ Rose protested, but in vain. She offered to assist, but the kind-hearted woman with gentle force compelled her to remain at rest, while with many little interjections and misquoted proverbs she sought her needle and thread, and sent the dingy maid of all work fur the muslin. “Bless my heart !’”’ cried Mrs. Halliday after a while, and so suddenly as to make Rose start from a fitful and uneasy doze into which she had fallen, ‘“‘bless my heart, its near six o’clock and the dress not half finished, and seven’s the latest, and if it is’nt done Mr. Flathers will be in a way, though how a widow with a son christened John but called Jack, who’s been gone since morning, can do it in time is more than I know.” Before she had finished her speech Rose had risen, and was busily employed with needle and thread. There was little time to spare, and when the skirt was at length completed it wanted but a quarter ofan hour to the time at which Rose should be at the theatre. “‘T tell you what it is, Rose, you’ll have to dress here and take a cab down to Hardress-street, though public vehicles are bad, they being always engaged in taking small pox.cases to the hospital, and well I remember when poor dear Halliday was alive—’’ ‘¢ Yes, yes,’’ interrupted Rose, knowing how difficult it was to silence the old lady whenonce she com- menced her early reminiscences, ‘‘yes, Mrs. Halli- day, I will dress for the theatre at once.” With far different feelings from those with which on the previous night she had attired herself for her first appearance Rose again donned the costume of a ballet- iri. i Her heart sank within her, and her limbs trembled ‘beneath her, but the knowledge of the necessity of ‘being at the theatre in proper time gave her strength, and in a wonderfully short time she had arrayed her- self as the Fairy of the Dewy Dell. She looked almost more beautiful than on the pre- ‘ceding night. The pallor caused by all she had gone through since ‘quitting the stage added a lustre to her beautitul eyes, and as she looked at her own reflection in the glass she saw that she was beautiful, and sighed. Sighed—for she knew a little of the misery of a THE BALLET-GIRL’S REVENGE. pretty girl without a strong protecting arm to fight her battles and to shield her from evil. She knew something of the perils which she might be called upon to encounter, but could she have fore- seen all that cruel Fate had in store for her she would rather have thrown herself from the bridge into the black Thames than have left the shelter of Mrs. Halliday’s roof that night. But there was no friendly voice to warn her of her impending danger, no kind hand to guide her and sustain her faltering footsteps. Into the cold world, alone and helpless, she was forced to go, to fight and struggle, to sink or swim, as Fate ordained. Jack Halliday was at the theatre, and to him only, in the whole universe, could she look for advice and assistance. As Rose put the finishing touches to her toilet Mrs. Halliday knocked at the door. “‘ For the last two hours and more, my dear, there’s been a cab a-loitering in a way the police should not allow up and down the street, but it’s turned out lucky, as it happens, and it’s now at the door a-wait- ing, and if you’re afraid, say the word, and I’ll put put on my bonnet and shawl, and come with you; but the driver looks sober, and a young man, quite the gentleman I assure you, is a-sitting by his side con- versing affable and quoting poetry.”’ “Thank you, dear Mrs. Halliday, I would not trouble you for the world; I shall be quite safe by myself.” The cab was waiting at the door, and the young man got down and assisted Rose, who was wrappedin a long cloak, which quite concealed her ballet dress, to enter. Hardly waiting to hear the direction she gave, he sprang back to his seat by the driver, and the vehicle drove off at a rapid rate. Poor Rose! Had she but known, she would sooner have cut off her right arm than have entered that cab. On, on they drove through the dark streets, over which a thick fog had settled that rendered every- thing murky and indistinct. The lamps shed but little light, but still the cab drove on at a great speed, in spite of the shouts and oaths from the drivers of other vehicles with which it nearly came into collision, and the frightened screams of foot passengers who were nearly run over by it. Rose began to feel frightened. Was the driver intoxicated ? Was he taking her in the right direction ? Eagerly she peered from the window, but the fog was so dense that she could not make out with any degree of certainty where she was. *‘Stop! stop!” she cried, thoroughly frightened. The speed if anything increased. She let down the window and put out her head. ““ Stop! let me out!’ she exclaimed. There was no answer to her cry, “‘ Where are you taking me?” The cab sharply turned a corner, and went jolting down what Rose made out to be a mean-looking street. Again she shrieked at the top of her voice, but no attention was paid to her cries, “Help! help!’ she cried in despair, trusting some passer-by might come to her rescue. “Let me out! Help!” The vehicle stopped so suddenly as to throw Rose forward, and the next moment the man who had been riding with the driver appeared at the door. ** Did you call, miss?” “Yes, yes. You are taking me in a wrong direc- tion. Let me out.’’ The man opened the cab door as she spoke, Oo TT RCCOSLAATLITELOMONO SSCL)