and, further, he had no reason to suppose that the young lady entertained for him any other sentiments than those with which she might be naturally disposed to regard the son of a friend whom she had known so long. These considerations rendered him as unhappy as the most passionate lover could desire to be—he ate little, drank little, slept less, lost his spirits; and, in short, exhibited a great variety of symptoms sufficiently dangerous in any case, but particularly so in one, where the patient had mainly to depend upon the preservation of his powers of fun and comicality for a distant chance of the fulfilment of his hopes.
CHAPTER III.
1794 to 1797.
Grimaldi falls in love—His success—He meets with an accident, which brings the Reader acquainted with that invaluable specific, "Grimaldi's Embrocation"—He rises gradually in his Profession—The Pentonville Gang of Burglars.
It is scarcely to be supposed that such a sudden and complete change in the merry genius of the theatre could escape the observation of those around him, far less of his mother, who, as he had been her constant and affectionate companion, observed him with anxious solicitude. Various hints and soundings, and indirect inquiries, were the consequence, but they were far from eliciting the truth; he was ill, fatigued by constant exertion in difficult parts, and that was all that his friends could gather from him.
There was another circumstance which puzzled the lady mother more than all. This was, that he never visited the dressing-room, whither he had been accustomed regularly to resort; and that he either took tea before he went to the theatre, or not at all. The truth was, that he was quite unable to endure the facetiousness of the ladies in the presence of Miss Hughes; the more so, because he fancied that his annoyance seemed to afford that young lady considerable amusement; and rather than find this the case, he determined to relinquish the pleasure of her society.
So matters stood for some weeks, when one night, having occasion during the performances to repair to the wardrobe for some articles of dress, he hastily entered, and instead of discovering his old friend, Mrs. Lewis, found himself confronted and alone with Mr. Hughes's daughter.
In these cases, if the lady exhibit emotion, the gentleman gains courage; but Miss Hughes exhibited no emotion, merely saying,
"Why, Joe, I have not seen you for a fortnight; where have you been hiding! How is it that I never see you at tea now?"
The tone of kindness in which this was said, somewhat re-assured the lover, so he made an effort to speak, and got as far as, "I'm not well."
"Not well!" said the young lady. And she said it so kindly that all poor Joe's emotion returned; and being really ill and weak, and very sensitive withal, he made an effort or two to look cheerful, and burst into tears.
The young lady looked at him for a moment or two quite surprised, and then said, in a tone of earnest commiseration, "I see that you are not well, and that you are very much changed: what is the matter with you? Pray tell me."
At this inquiry, the young man, who seems to have inherited all the sensitiveness of his father's character without its worst points, threw himself into a chair, and cried like a child, vainly endeavouring to stammer out a few words, which were wholly unintelligible. Miss Hughes gently endeavoured to soothe him, and at that moment, Mrs. Lewis, suddenly entering the room, surprised them in this very sentimental situation; upon which Grimaldi, thinking he must have made himself very ridiculous, jumped up and ran away.
Mrs. Lewis being older in years, and in such matters too, than either Miss Hughes or her devoted admirer, kept her own counsel, thought over what she had seen, and discreetly presented herself before Grimaldi next day, when, after a sleepless night, he was sauntering moodily about the garden, aggravating all the doubts, and diminishing all the hopes that involved themselves with the object nearest his heart.
"Dear me, Joe!" exclaimed the old lady, "how wretched you do look! Why, what is the matter?"
He tried an excuse or two, but reposing great trust in the sagacity and sincerity of his questioner, and sadly wanting a confidante, he first solemnly bound her to secrecy, and then told his tale. Mrs. Lewis at once took upon herself the office of a go-between; undertook to sound Miss Hughes without delay; and counselled Grimaldi to prepare a letter containing a full statement of his feelings, which, if the conversation between herself and Miss Hughes on that very evening were propitious, should be delivered on the following.
Accordingly, he devoted all his leisure time that day to the composition of various epistles, and the spoiling of many sheets of paper, with the view to setting down his feelings in the very best and appropriate terms he could possibly employ. One complete letter was finished at last, although even that was not half powerful enough; and going to the theatre, and carefully avoiding the old dressing-room, he went through his part with greater éclat than before. Having hastily changed his dress, he hurried to Mrs. Lewis's room, where that good lady at once detailed all the circumstances that had occurred since the morning, which she thought conclusive, but which the lover feared were not.
It seems that Mrs. Lewis had embraced the first opportunity of being left alone with Miss Hughes to return to the old subject of Joe's looking very ill; to which Miss Hughes replied, that he certainly did, and said it, too, according to the matured opinion of Mrs. Lewis, as if she had been longing to introduce the subject without exactly knowing how.
"What can be the matter with him?" said Miss Hughes.
"I have found it out, Miss," said Mrs. Lewis; "Joe is in love."
"In love!" said Miss Hughes.
"Over head and ears," replied Mrs. Lewis; "I never saw any poor dear young man in such a state."
"Who is the lady?" asked Miss Hughes, inspecting some object that lay near her with every appearance of unconcern.
"That's a secret," said Mrs. Lewis; "I know her name; she does not know he is in love with her yet; but I am going to give her a letter to-morrow night, telling her all about it."
"I should like to know her name," said Miss Hughes.
"Why," returned Mrs. Lewis, "you see I promised Joe not to tell; but as you are so very anxious to know, I can let you into the secret without breaking my word: you shall see the direction of the letter."
Miss Hughes was quite delighted with the idea, and left the room, after making an appointment for the ensuing evening for that purpose.
Such was Mrs. Lewis's tale in brief; after hearing which, Grimaldi, who, not being so well acquainted with the subject, was not so sanguine, went home to bed, but not to sleep: his thoughts wavering between his friend's communication, and the love-letter, of which he could not help thinking that he could still polish up a sentence or two with considerable advantage.
The next morning was one of great agitation, and when Mrs. Lewis posted off to the theatre with the important epistle in her pocket, the lover fell into such a tremor of anxiety and suspense, that he was quite unconscious how the day passed: he could stay away from the theatre no longer than five o'clock, at which time he hurried down to ascertain the fate of his letter.
"I have not been able to give it yet," said Mrs. Lewis, softly, "but do you just go to the dressing-room; she is there:—only look at her, and guess whether she cares for you or not."
He went, and saw Miss Hughes looking very pale, with traces of tears on her face. Six o'clock soon came, and the young lady, hurrying to the room of the confidante, eagerly inquired whether she had got Joe's letter.
"I have," said Mrs. Lewis, looking very sly.
"Oh! pray let me see it," said Miss Hughes: "I am so anxious to know who the lady is, and so desirous that Joe should be happy."
"Why, upon my word," said Mrs. Lewis, "I think I should be doing wrong if I showed it to you, unless Joe said I might."
"Wrong!" echoed the young