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Behind Sophy's chair, and sticking calico-flowers into the child's tresses, stood the senior matron of the establishment, not a bad sort of woman, who kept the dresses, nursed the sick, revered Rugge, told fortunes on a pack of cards which she always kept in her pocket, and acted occasionally in parts where age was no drawback and ugliness desirable, such as a witch, or duenna, or whatever in the dialogue was poetically called "Hag."
Yet, from what I see of your play, I think you ought not to have lost, Mr. Rugge." The ex-manager started. "What! You knew me before the Storm? before the lightning struck me, as I may say, sir and falling into difficulties, I became-a wreck? You knew me? not of the Company? a spectator?" "As you say a spectator. You had once in your employ an actor clever old fellow.
Most improbable that Losely would ever guess that they could become separated; still more improbable, unless Waife, imprudently lurking near her home, guided conjecture, that Losely should dream of seeking under the roof of the lofty peeress the child that had fled from Mr. Rugge.
Rugge, I am all ears; perhaps you will be kind enough to be all tale."
But she had heard enough to stir her heart with an emotion that set all the dimples round her lip into undulating play. 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.
Oh, by the by, a queer-looking man, in a white hat, called at the same time I did, to see you on private business, gave way to me, said he should come again; may I ask who he is?" "I cannot guess; no one ever calls here on business except the tax- gatherer." The old woman-servant now entered. "A gentleman, ma'am; says his name is Rugge." "Rugge, Rugge; let me think." "I am here, Mrs.
And then, as I was all alone in a village ale-house, on my way back from- it does not signify from what, or from whence, but I was disappointed and despairing, Providence mercifully threw in my way Mr. Rugge, and ordained me to be of great service to that ruffian, and that ruffian of great use to me." Sorfiy. "Ah, how was that?"
His arm was seized by Mr. Rugge. "She's gone, fled," gasped the manager, breathless. "Out of the lattice; fifteen feet high; not dashed to pieces; vanished." "Go on and order breakfast," said Losely to Mr. Poole, who was listening too inquisitively. He drew the manager away. "Can't you keep your tongue in your head before strangers? The girl is gone?" "Out of the lattice, and fifteen feet high!"
They found out the wayside inn in which he had taken a lodging for the night; and there it was ascertained that he had paid for his room beforehand, stating that he should start for the race-course early in the morning. Rugge himself set out to the racecourse to kill two birds with one stone, catch Mr. Losely, examine the blind man himself. He did catch Mr.
With tragic aspect, unrelaxed by that /jeu de mots/, and still wholly unrecognising in the massive form and discoloured swollen countenance of the rough-clad stranger, the elegant proportions, the healthful, blooming, showy face, and elaborate fopperies of the Jasper Losely who had sold to him a Phenomenon which proved so evanishing, Rugge entered into a prolix history of his wrongs at the hands of Waife, of Losely, of Sophy.
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