part
of Sydney Carton appeared on the stage, Jean’s eyes were
full of interest and delight. She was greatly impressed by pale,
dark Carton and delicate, charming Lucie Manette, the girl he
loved.
During the interval Jean said: “Oh, Mr. Shannon, how
splendid it is! So different from what I expected! I can’t tell you
what a treat it is for me! I feel so sorry for poor Sydney Carton!
He is so much in love with Lucy and she ... It must be a frightful
thing to be in love and not to be loved!”
“Quite,” I agreed gravely. “At least they are good friends,
and friendship is a wonderful thing.”
She consulted her programme to conceal her flush. “The girl
who does Lucie is very sweet, she has such lovely, blonde hair
and is so young!” “Well, in real life she is Martin Harvey’s wife,
must be about fortyfive, and that blonde hair is a wig.”
“Please, don’t, Mr. Shannon! How can you joke about such
things?” she cried in a shocked voice...
As the last scene was under way Jean’s hand, small and hot,
touched
mine. We sat hand in hand as though to support each
other while watching Carton with a pale face and carefully
arranged hair mount the guillotine and meet his death. Jean
couldn’t keep her tears and they fell upon the back of my hand
like raindrops in spring.
When at last the play came to its end there was a storm of
applause
and many curtain calls for Miss de Silva and Martin
Harvey. Miss Jean Law, however, was too overcome to join in
such a banal applause, her feelings were too deep for words.
Only when we were in the street she whispered with shining
eyes. “Oh, Robert, you can’t believe me how much I’ve enjoyed
myself!” It was the first time she had used my Christian name.
(After “Shannon’s Way” by A. Cronin)
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