SCENE AT THE STAGE DOOR. 361 emerging into the street, we found such a crowd assembled that it was with difficulty that the gentlemen who escorted me could force a way to the carriage. This throng had gathered to witness my departure, not merely because I had become a favorite in Dublin, but because I was an American, and America had succored Ireland in her hour of need. They grasped my hands as I passed, seized my dress, crying out, "God bless you, mee lady!" "The Lord give you prosperity!" "America! America's the blessed land!" There were a number of women in the crowd, some of them with infants in their arms. These pressed upon me, crying out, "Look at the baby, mee lady! Take a look at mee baby!" and, "Let the little girl kiss your hand," &c. I was forced to stand some minutes in the street, complying as well as I could with their requests. They hemmed me in so closely, that to reach the carriage was an impossibility; and the gentleman whose arm I held lifted his cane to strike some of the poor creatures. But they drew back at my request, though they did not seem inclined to do so before the threatened blows. After I was seated in the carriage, we discovered that Mrs. Renshaw had been lost in the crowd. She was not recognized as my attendant, and consequently got separated from me, to her great dismay. She was unmercifully jostled about, and nearly trampled under foot. One of the gentlemen who accompanied me went in search of her. She was found with some difficulty; and even then it was only by proclaiming who she was that he could induce the crowd to make way and let her pass. We drove off amidst cheers and shouts of "God bless you!" "Long life to you!" which never ceased while the carriage was in sight. I received several complimentary letters and other tokens of esteem during my stay in Dublin, and I formed some delightful acquaintances. I am their debtor for numerous hospitalities and courtesies. Every morning's mail brought me a note from the invalid in London. Very often I had a second note in the evening. Every mail took back a note to him, with a supply of newspapers. He had wonderfully revived, and wrote in excellent spirits. The accounts of my Dublin successes cheered him; and he derived great amusement from sketches of the individuals with whom I became acquainted and the narration of various incidents. I quote a few passages from his daily letters to show the happy and thankful spirit in which they were penned : "Your letter rejoiced my heart and filled me with gratitude to Heaven all seems so prosperous. I, too, am unusually well and strong to-day." "How much you seem to be favored by the press, and by having your exertions appreciated and rewarded! Heaven surely favors you, and me through you." "I am so comfortable this morning after a good night's sleep, and the cheerful sun shining so brightly in the room, and your sweet water lily hanging over me, and the portrait of your dear self on the other side of the painting of St. John!" "I know that it will make you happy to learn that, for the first time since you left me, I have been able to sit up and read; which I have just now been doing, to my infinite delight, for an hour and a half. Providence be thanked for all its mercies! This is more than I expected would happen for some weeks." NOTES FROM THE INVALID. 363 "Last night was the best yet. I am lying upon your sofa, having been placed there by a nephew of Mr. M————————ll's, who is very kind, and an excellent substitute for our good Charlie.” "Davenport brought me a beautiful pot of lilies of the valley, in full bloom, this morning. Your letter of Sunday was a great source of pleasure and delight to me, so that I am as comfortable as can be to-day." "I look forward to many an hour's amusement upon your return, from the various scenes and events that have happened to you. My good doctor is all attention to me, and watches me with the greatest care. E- -n is delighted that her sister Mrs. R you so well.” Mrs. suits The contented tone of these letters, and the favorable change which my London friends assured me had taken place, once more cheated me into the belief that his recovery was possible -- I even dared to believe probable. In his latter letters he entreated me to accept an offer which I had received to act a fortnight at Newcastle upon Tyne, and then to visit Scotland. I unwillingly consented to the former request; and my faithful attendant and I left Dublin with our faces turned towards Newcastle, instead of to London, as I earnestly desired. CHAPTER XXII. Recrossing the Channel. Night on Deck. - Arrival at Liverpool. Carlisle.- Newcastle upon Tyne. Mail Disappointments. First Rehearsal. Its Interruption. The three Letters. Sad Sudden Return to A Dying Look. Announcement of the Third. - Mr. Davis. Bernard. IT so chanced that we recrossed the channel in the Iron Duke, which three weeks before had conveyed us to Kingston. It was a glorious moonlight evening, and the boat seemed to plough its way over a sea of molten silver. We spent the greater portion of the night on deck. A long, wooden bench, which bore some relationship to that plank which had "a soft side,” served for a couch. An old gentleman who was pacing the deck, after passing us once or twice, deprived himself of his voluminous woollen cloak, and spread it over me. I looked up to remonstrate, but the attempt was useless; something in his action seemed to say that he had a daughter at home. When I woke from a dreamy slumber I found a couple of overcoats folded carefully over my feet, and Mrs. R was similarly protected. We could only divine whence they came by singling out certain shivering figures that walked rapidly to and fro in the moonlight minus the comfortable outer garment. MAIL DISAPPOINTMENTS. 365 Towards morning the cold became so intense that we were obliged to take refuge in the close cabin, and encounter the seasick consequences. We landed at Liverpool soon after daylight, and in about an hour, during which I wrote to London, took the train for Carlisle. At four o'clock we reached Carlisle, remained half an hour, then proceeded to Newcastle, where we arrived at eight on Friday evening. That night we passed at a hotel, and early the next morning went in search of apartments. To our wonder and gratification, they were found almost as readily as those in Dublin, and again seemed mysteriously prepared for our reception through the agency of the invisible avant courrier before mentioned. Our first care was to send to the theatre for letters. There was one from the invalid at home, dated Thursday morning and Thursday night. It was written in the same placid and hopeful strain as all the others which had cheered me during my absence. I noticed but one difference; the writing was singularly uneven, and on some lines there were but two words, as though they were traced by one who did not see, but only guessed at the space. This had, doubtless, been the case. Nothing in the tone of the letter betrayed a feebler state of body than usual. On Saturday there was no letter. It was the first day since I left London that had brought no tones from the voice at a distance. Anxious pulses began to beat. Their throbbing was painfully quickened when Sunday came and went and brought no news. Monday morning I sent to the post office. The mail had not yet arrived it was very late that day; and we learned that the mail due on the day previous had missed altogether. |