stopping in his walk up
and down the room to place my cushions more easy; "they should build a
new one, now Coltham is growing up into such a fashionable town. I
wish I could take you to see the "Well-walk," with all the fine people
promenading. But you must rest, Phineas."

I consented, being indeed rather weary.

"You will like to see Mrs. Siddons, whom we have so often talked about?
She is not young now, Mr. Charles says, but magnificent still. She
first came out in this same theatre more than twenty years ago. Yates
saw her. I wonder, Phineas, if your father ever did."

"Oh, no my father would not enter a play-house for the world."

"What!"

"Nay, John, you need not look so troubled. You know he did not bring
me up in the Society, and its restrictions are not binding upon me."

"True, true." And he resumed his walk, but not his cheerfulness. "If
it were myself alone, now, of course what I myself hold to be a lawful
pleasure I have a right to enjoy; or, if not, being yet a lad and under
a master--well, I will bear the consequences," added he, rather
proudly; "but to share them--Phineas," turning suddenly to me, "would
you like to go home?--I'll take you."

I protested earnestly against any such thing; told him I was sure we
were doing nothing wrong--which was, indeed, my belief; entreated him
to be merry and enjoy himself, and succeeded so well, that in a few
minutes we had started in a flutter of gaiety and excitement for
Coffee-house Yard.

It was a poor place--little better than a barn, as Mr. Charles had
said--built in a lane leading out of the principal street. This lane
was almost blocked up with play-goers of all ranks and in all sorts of
equipages, from the coach-and-six to the sedan-chair, mingled with a
motley crowd on foot, all jostling, fighting, and screaming, till the
place became a complete bear-garden.

"Oh, John! take care!" and I clung to his arm.

"Never mind! I'm big enough and strong enough for any crowd. Hold on,
Phineas." If I had been a woman, and the woman that he loved, he could
not have been more tender over my weakness. The physical
weakness--which, however humiliating to myself, and doubtless
contemptible in most men's eyes--was yet dealt by the hand of Heaven,
and, as such, regarded by John only with compassion.

The crowd grew denser and more formidable. I looked beyond it, up
towards the low hills that rose in various directions round the town;
how green and