he, in great anxiety about my feverish state, removed me
from Rome. And then, my dear! I threw my arms about his neck and told him
he should have a true and veritable cardinal's robe for his _Wolsey_, and
in outrageous pride I cried: '_Ego hoc feci!_'" At which _I_ gravely
said: "That sounds like 'I have done something,' anyway it's I; but that
'_fetchy_' word bothers me."

And she laughed and laughed, and said: "It means _I_ did this! And I am
ashamed to have used a Latin term to you, child. You must forgive me for
it, but I _must_ tell Charles that 'fetchy' word that bothered you--I
must indeed, because he does so love his laugh!"

Then came the night when by chance I played an important part in one of
their plays. My scenes were mostly with Mr. Cathcart, and I only came in
contact with Mr. Kean for a moment in one act. I was as usual frightened
half out of my life, and as I stood in the entrance ready to go on, Mr.
Kean smilingly caught my fingers as he was passing me, but their icy
coldness brought him to a stand-still. "Why, why! bless my soul, what's
the matter? this--this is not nervousness, is it?" he stammered.

I nodded my head. "Oh, good Lord!" he cried. "I say, Cathcart, here's a
go--this poor child can't even open her mouth now----"

I tried to tell him I should be all right soon, but there was no time.
The word of entrance came, and a _cue_ takes the _pas_ even in presence
of a star. I went on, and as my lines were delivered clearly and
distinctly, I saw the relieved face of Mr. Kean peering at us, and when
Mr. Cathcart (who enacted my soldierly lover) gave me a sounding kiss
upon the cheek as he embraced me in farewell, we plainly heard the old
gentleman exclaim: "Well, well, really now, James, upon my word, you
_are_ coming on!" and Mr. Cathcart's broad shoulders shook with laughter
rather than grief as he rushed from me.

When, later on, Mr. Kean took my hand to give it in betrothal to my
lover, he found it so burning hot as to attract his attention.

Next night I did not play at all, but came to look on, and being invited
to the dressing-room, Mr. Kean suddenly asked me: "Who are you, child?"

"No one," I promptly answered.

He laughed a little and nudged his Ellen, then went on: "I mean--who are
your people?"

"I have none," I said, then quickly corrected, "except my mother."

"Ah, yes, yes, that's what we want to get at--who is that mother? for I
recognize an inherited talent here--a natur