"The carriage is at the door", said he; "my mother has sent it to take you to the theatre; she was going herself but an arrival has prevented her: she immediately said, 'Take Lucy in my place'. Will you go?"
"Just now? I am not dressed", cried I, glancing despairingly at my dark merino.
"You have half an hour to dress. I should have given you notice, but I only determined on going since five o'clock, when I heard there was to be a genuine regale in the presence of a great actress".
And he mentioned a name that thrilled me—a name that, in those days, could thrill Europe. It is hushed now; its once restless echoes are all still; she who bore it went years ago to her rest; night and oblivion long since closed above her; but then her day—a day of Sirius—stood at its full height, light and fervor.
"I'll go; I will be ready in ten minutes", I vowed, and away I flew, never once checked, reader, by the thought which perhaps at this moment checks you, namely, that to go anywhere with Graham and without Mrs. Bretton could be objectionable. I could not have conceived, much less have expressed, to Graham, such thought—such scruple—without risk of exciting a tyrannous self-contempt, of kindling an inward fire of shame so quenchless, and so devouring, that I think it would soon have licked up the very life in my veins. Besides, my godmother, knowing her son, and knowing me, would as soon have thought of chaperoning a sister with a brother, as of keeping anxious guard over our incomings and outgoings. The present was no occasion for showy array; my dun-mist crape would suffice, and I sought the same in the great oak-wardrobe in the dormitory, where hung no less than forty dresses. But there had been changes and reforms, and some innovating hand had pruned this same crowded wardrobe, and carried divers garments to the grenier—my crape amongst the rest. I must fetch it. I got the key, and went aloft fearless, almost thoughtless. I unlocked the door, I plunged in. The reader may believe it or not, but when I thus suddenly entered, that garret was not wholly dark as it should have been; from one point there shone a solemn light, like a star, but broader. So plainly it shone that it revealed the deep alcove with a portion of the tarnished scarlet curtain
