The talk was drifting into a personal channel and Lavinia swiftly changed the subject. The rest of the way was occupied in friendly chat.

At parting Lancelot would have kissed her hand but she adroitly avoided his homage. Not because she was averse but because she thought it discreet.

Lavinia went to bed that night content with the world and with herself.

She felt a secret pleasure that she had in a way brought Vane back to life though how she had done it she could not explain. At any rate, there was no magic about it. It was a very ordinary thing--no romance--and certainly no love. So at least she argued and ended by thinking she had convinced herself.

In London Lavinia went back to her old lodgings in Little Queen Street, and revived her acquaintance with Mrs. Egleton. The latter received her with much effusion, which puzzled Lavinia not a little. The cause, however, was revealed when the lady explained how she had heard from John Rich that when "The Beggar's Opera" was put into rehearsal he was going to give her the part of Lucy.

"And you, my dear, are to play Polly."

"So Mr. Gay says, but I don't know for certain."

"Have you read the play?"

"No, I've only learned my songs."

"And the duet with me?"--"I'm bubbled."

"No. I know nothing about that."

"It's terribly hard, but there's plenty of time to get it by heart. I'm dreadfully nervous though. We have to sing it without any instruments, not even a harpsichord. All the songs are to be like that."

"Oh.... Won't it all sound very poor?"

"Of course it will. You see that mean hunks Rich won't go to the expense of a band. He doesn't know how the opera will take the people. It may be hissed off the stage the first night. I don't trouble my head about politics--I can't say I know what the rubbish means--but I'm told there's a good deal in the opera that's likely to give offence."

"I can't think Mr. Gay would write anything likely to offend anybody."

"Can't you? Well, if the Church can easily give offence, much more likely a playwriter. Why, wasn't the Bishop of Rochester sent to the Tower for what he said, and isn't he at this very moment in Paris and afraid to show his nose in England? Oh, you can't call your soul your own now-a-days. We poor playfolk may bless our lucky stars that we've only got to say the words set down for us and not our own. Mr. Gay who writes 'em for us'll have the worry and he's got it too, what with Rich's sc.r.a.ping and saving and his insisting upon Mr. Quin playing in the opera."

Lavinia now saw why Gay had been depressed. But Mr. Quin the surly, who only played in tragedies, what had he to do with Gay's opera? She put the question to Mrs. Egleton.

"Nothing at all. He hasn't any more idea of singing than an old crow.

It's ridiculous, but Rich will have his way. I tell you flatly, Lavinia, if Quin plays the part of Captain Macheath he'll be laughed at and so shall we, and the piece will be d.a.m.ned."

Lavinia thought so too. She had, as Mrs. Squeamish in Wycherley's play, once acted with Quin on the occasion of his benefit and she well remembered his stiff, stilted style and how he domineered over everybody. She felt rather dismayed but she could only resign herself to the situation. There was the consolation that the opera was not likely to be staged for some time and things might alter. In the theatre any sudden change was possible.

For weeks, indeed to Christmas, Lavinia remained one of the "la.s.ses" in "The Rape of Proserpine," but she was quite contented, for Lancelot Vane was permanently in London in his new post and they were constantly together. Every night he was waiting for her outside the stage door and saw her across the Fields to Little Queen Street. It was not safe, he protested, for her to be in that dark dreary waste alone at night and he was right. Lincoln's Inn Fields was one of the worst places in London.

The most daring robberies even in daylight were of common occurrence.

Despite the short days of winter they took long walks together. On the day "betwixt Sat.u.r.day and Monday," like the lad and the la.s.s of Carey's famous ballad at that time all the rage, to them Sunday was the day of days. Sometimes they strolled to the pleasant fields of Islington and Hornsey; sometimes they revisited Hampstead, and occasionally by way of the Westminster and Lambeth ferry to the leafy groves of Camberwell, and the Dulwich Woods. They never talked of love; they were contented and happy, may be because both were conscious they _were_ in love.

CHAPTER XXVI

"POLLY IS TO BE MY NAME FOR EVER AFTER"

The new year brought the first rehearsal of "The Beggar's Opera."

Hippisley with his rich, unctuous humour was Peachum, and not less well suited to Lockit was Jack Hall's quaint face and naive manner. James Spiller, the favourite of the G.o.ds, was Mat o' the Mint, and the solemn visaged Quin essayed Macheath. Lavinia as Polly was both excited and nervous, and Lucy (Mrs. Egleton) not less so. The rest of the cast comprised actors and actresses of experience, and they went through their parts philosophically and without enthusiasm. The motive and the plot and the many songs made up a play which was to them quite novel, and they were somewhat bewildered to know what to do with it. Gay hovered about unable to decide whether his opera was going to be a thumping success or a dismal failure. The general impression was in the direction of the latter, but no one save Quin gave vent to his or her sentiments.

"Well, what d'ye think, Mr. Quin?" asked Gay anxiously when the rehearsal was over.

Quin refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff before he answered.

"Humph--can't say--can't say. It'll be a riddle to the audience. Bad thing to puzzle 'em, eh?"

"Surely it's plain enough. But if it's amusing, what else matters?"

"I won't put my opinion against yours, Mr. Gay and Mr. Pope's, but----"

Quin shrugged his shoulders and stalked away, and Lavinia, who was watching the two from a distance, ran across the stage, her face a little troubled. She had interpreted Quin's gesture correctly.

"Oh, Mr. Gay----" she stopped. Gay was looking so sad.

"Mr. Quin doesn't like the opera, Polly. What do you say?"

"Mr. Quin doesn't like it because he can't act the part," cried Lavinia indignantly. "None of us like him in it any more than he does himself.

He's not my idea of a highwayman."

"Why, what do you know about highwaymen? But I forgot, of course. Wasn't the coach that brought you to London from Mr. Pope's villa stopped by one?"

"Yes," rejoined Lavinia hastily, "but he was a brutal ruffian. Not your Captain Macheath at all. Mr. Quin chills me. I can't fancy myself in love with him. Nor can Mrs. Egleton. She says she could no more quarrel over him than she could over a stick. His singing and his voice give us the 'creeps.'"

"Faith, both are bad enough, but Mr. Rich seems bound to him."

"Why doesn't he try Tom Walker? When Tom isn't drunk, he sings like an angel."

"I know--I know. Well, we'll see."

But nothing was done, and at the second rehearsal Quin's Captain Macheath was more droningly dismal than ever. A dead silence followed the dance with which the last act concludes, and amid the stillness came from somewhere behind the scenes the sound of a mellow tenor voice trolling Macheath's lively melody, "When the heart of a man's depressed with care."

"By the lord," quoth Quin, "that's the voice of Tom Walker. He's the man for Macheath. Mr. Rich, I resign the part. It was never meant for me.

Give it to Walker."

John Rich grunted, but he made no objection. It so happened that Walker could act as well as sing, and that made all the difference in Rich's estimation. So one great obstacle to success was removed. But there were others. The duets and the choruses sounded terribly thin without an instrument to support them. The "tricky" duet between Polly and Lucy, "I'm bubbled," broke down constantly, and both declared they would never sing it properly. But Rich was not to be talked out of his whim to have no accompaniments.

One morning in the midst of the rehearsal, who should walk on the stage but the stately d.u.c.h.ess of Queensberry. Lavinia, in quite a flutter, whispered to Walker the name of the distinguished visitor. John Rich received her with great deference and conducted her to a seat.

"Go on, please, Mr. Rich, don't let me interrupt your business," said the great lady affably.

The rehearsal went on and eyes of the company furtively wandered to the face of the d.u.c.h.ess, anxious to know what so powerful a personage and so keen and outspoken a critic thought of the performance. But the serene face of her grace never changed.

The rehearsing of one act was over, and there was an interval before commencing the next one. The d.u.c.h.ess turned to Gay.

"How is this, Mr. Gay? Where are the instruments? Don't you have them at rehearsals?"