acceptable her Monimia, her
Belvidera, her Isabella, would have been to London playgoers. Perhaps they
would have received them as did the Virginians, perhaps not. Cibber
himself might or might not have drawn for us her portrait; might or might
not have dwelt upon the speaking eye, the slow, exquisite smile with which
she made more sad her saddest utterances, the wild charm of her mirth, her
power to make each auditor fear as his own the impending harm, the tragic
splendor in which, when the bolt had fallen, converged all the pathos,
beauty, and tenderness of her earlier scenes. A Virginian of that winter,
writing of her, had written thus; but then Williamsburgh was not London,
nor its playhouse Drury Lane. Perhaps upon that ruder stage, before an
audience less polite, with never a critic in the pit or footman in the
gallery, with no Fops' Corner and no great number of fine ladies in the
boxes, the jewel shone with a lustre that in a brighter light it had not
worn. There was in Mr. Charles Stagg's company of players no mate for any
gem; this one was set amongst pebbles, and perhaps by contrast alone did
it glow so deeply.

However this may be, in Virginia, in the winter and the early spring of
that year of grace Darden's Audrey was known, extravagantly praised,
toasted, applauded to the echo. Night after night saw the theatre crowded,
gallery, pit, and boxes. Even the stage had its row of chairs, seats held
not too dear at half a guinea. Mr. Stagg had visions of a larger house, a
fuller company, renown and prosperity undreamed of before that fortunate
day when, in the grape arbor, he and his wife had stood and watched
Darden's Audrey asleep, with her head pillowed upon her arm.

Darden's Audrey! The name clung to her, though the minister had no further
lot or part in her fate. The poetasters called her Charmante, Anwet,
Chloe,--what not! Young Mr. Lee in many a slight and pleasing set of
verses addressed her as Sylvia, but to the community at large she was
Darden's Audrey, and an enigma greater than the Sphinx. Why would she not
marry Mr. Marmaduke Haward of Fair View? Was the girl looking for a prince
to come overseas for her? Or did she prefer to a dazzling marriage the
excitement of the theatre, the adulation, furious applause? That could
hardly be, for these things seemed to frighten her. At times one could see
her shrink and grow pale at some great clapping or loud "Again!" And only
upon the stage did the town beho