attraction was for them, except that they may have liked nibbling the
paint off the canvas. Out they used to troop in swarms, and I, from my
perch on the window-seat, would watch and wonder. Once a terrible storm
came on, and years after, at the Lyceum, the Brocken Scene in "Faust"
brought back the scene to my mind--the thunder and lightning and the
creatures crawling on every side, the _grayness_ of the whole thing.

All "calls" were made from the greenroom in those days, and its
atmosphere was, I think, better than that of the dressing-room in which
nowadays actors and actresses spend their time during the waits. The
greenroom at the Princess's was often visited by distinguished people,
among them Planche, the archaeologist, who did so much for Charles
Kean's productions, and Macready. One night, as with my usual
impetuosity I was rushing back to my room to change my dress, I ran
right into the white waistcoat of an old gentleman! Looking up with
alarm, I found that I had nearly knocked over the great Mr. Macready.

"Oh, I _beg_ your pardon!" I exclaimed in eager tones. I had always
heard from father that Macready was the greatest actor of all, and this
was our first meeting. I was utterly abashed, but Mr. Macready, looking
down with a very kindly smile, only answered: "Never mind! You are a
very polite little girl, and you act very earnestly and speak very
nicely."

I was too much agitated to do anything but continue my headlong course
to my dressing-room, but even in those short moments the strange
attractiveness of his face impressed itself on my imagination. I
remember distinctly his curling hair, his oddly colored eyes full of
fire, and his beautiful, wavy mouth.

When I first described this meeting with Macready, a disagreeable person
wrote to the papers and said that he did not wish to question my
veracity, but that it was utterly impossible that Macready could ever
have brought himself to go to the Princess's at this time, because of
the rivalry between him and Charles Kean. I know that the two actors
were not on speaking terms, but very likely Macready had come to see my
father or Mr. Harley or one of the many members of Kean's company who
had once served under him.

The period when I was as vain as a little peacock had come to an end
before this. I think my part in "Pizarro" saw the last of it. I was a
Worshiper of the Sun, and in a pink feather, pink swathings of muslin,
and black arms, I was again s