CHAPTER VII.
A sham carries off a reality.
And she did act, and how charmingly! with what glee and what gusto!
Rugge was beside himself with pride and rapture. He could hardly perform
his own Baronial part for admiration. The audience, a far choicer and
more fastidious one than that in the Surrey village, was amazed,
enthusiastic. "I shall live to see my dream come true! I shall have the
great York theatre!" said Rugge, as he took off his wig and laid his head
on his pillow. "Restore her for the L100! not for thousands!"
Alas, my sweet Sophy, alas! Has not the joy that made thee perform so
well undone thee? Ah, hadst thou but had the wit to act horribly, and be
hissed!
"Uprose the sun and uprose Baron Rugge."
Not that ordinarily he was a very early man; but his excitement broke his
slumbers. He had taken up his quarters on the ground-floor of a small
lodging-house close to his exhibition; in the same house lodged his
senior matron, and Sophy herself. Mrs. Gormerick, being ordered to watch
the child and never lose sight of her, slept in the same room with Sophy,
in the upper story of the house. The old woman served Rugge for
housekeeper, made his tea, grilled his chop, and for company's sake
shared his meals. Excitement as often sharpens the appetite as takes
it away. Rugge had supped on hope, and he felt a craving for a more
substantial breakfast. Accordingly, when he had dressed, he thrust his
head into the passage, and seeing there the maid-of-all-work unbarring
the street-door, bade her go upstairs and wake the Hag, that is, Mrs.
Gormerick. Saying this he extended a key; for he ever took the
precaution, before retiring to rest, to lock the door of the room to
which Sophy was consigned on the outside, and guard the key till the next
morning.
The maid nodded, and ascended the stairs. Less time than he expected
passed away before Mrs. Gormerick made her appearance, her gray hair
streaming under her nightcap, her form indued in a loose wrapper,--her
very face a tragedy.
"Powers above! What has happened?" exclaimed Rugge, prophetically.
"She is gone," sobbed Mrs. Gormerick; and, seeing the lifted arm and
clenched fist of the manager, prudently fainted away.
