Crane led her back passive.

"There, she will act. Put on the wreath. Trick her out. Hark ye, Mr.
Rugge. This is for one night. I have made conditions with her: either
you must take back her grandfather, or--she must return to him."

"And my L100?"

"In the latter case ought to be repaid to you."

"Am I never to have the Royal York Theatre? Ambition of my life, ma'am.
Dreamed of it thrice! Ha! but she will act; and succeed. But to take
back the old vagabond,--a bitter pill. He shall halve it with me!
Ma'am, I'm your grateful--"




CHAPTER VI.

Threadbare is the simile which compares the world to a stage. Schiller,
less complimentary than Shakspeare, lowers the illustration from a stage
to a puppet-show. But ever between realities and shows there is a secret
communication, an undetected interchange,--sometimes a stern reality in
the heart of the ostensible actor, a fantastic stage-play in the brain of
the unnoticed spectator. The bandit's child on the proscenium is still
poor little Sophy, in spite of garlands and rouge. But that honest
rough-looking fellow to whom, in respect for services to sovereign and
country, the apprentice yields way, may he not be--the crafty Comedian?