m of ill nature in its curves, her
sympathetic voice, at once attracted the audience. It was a pity,
everyone felt, she had so little to say and do. Her few lines expressed
but one sentiment--her love for Chamont.

Lavinia played the part as if she felt it, which was indeed the fact,
for she was thinking of Lancelot Vane all the time. When she came to her
final words in the fifth act--

"If any of my family have done thee injury,
I'll be revenged and love thee better for it"

the house thundered its applause, so naturally and with such genuine
pathos were they delivered.

The curtain fell. The gallants who had seats on the stage crowded round
the "young gentlewoman" and showered compliments. A few privileged
people from the front of the house who found their way behind were
equally enthusiastic. Even Mrs. Haughton--the Monimia of the
play--deigned to smile approvingly.

"What did I tell thee, Polly?" she heard a pleasant if somewhat husky
voice whisper in her ear.

She knew the tones and turned quickly. John Gay's kindly eyes were
beaming upon her. He had come with Jemmy Spiller, and with a stout man
from whose broad red face a look of drollery was rarely absent. This was
Hippisley, a comedian with a natural humour which was wont to set an
audience in a roar.

Lavinia blushed with pleasure and cast a grateful look at Spiller, whose
hints had proved so valuable.

"Was I not right, Spiller?" went on Gay. "You've read my opera, what
there is of it that's finished. Won't Polly Peachum fit her like a
glove?"

"Aye, if she can sing as prettily as she acted to-night," said Spiller,
with a quizzical glance at the girl.

"Sing? My lad, she has the voice of a nightingale. Pepusch agrees with
me. I'll swear there's no singing woman outside the King's Theatre--or
inside, for the matter of that--who can hold a candle by the side of
her. Have you forgotten the pretty baggage who so charmed us at the
Maiden Head?"

"Not I, faith. I was but jesting. And so you've fixed upon her. But I
hear that Mr. Rich has set his face against so many songs. He won't take
your Polly merely because she can sing."

"Mr. Rich is a fool--in some things," rejoined Gay hastily. "He can
dance, I grant you, and posture as no other man can, and he thinks he
can act! I heard him once at a party of friends. My good Spiller, if his
vanity ever prompted him to air his voice on the stage, the people would
think he was mocking them, an