A Peep Behind the Scenes | Page 2

a rich auburn colour, was hanging down to her waist, and her eyes were the most beautiful the old man thought he had ever seen.
She was very poorly dressed, and she shivered as the damp, cold air rushed in through the open door.
'Good afternoon, my little dear,' said the old man.
She was just going to answer him when a violent fit of coughing from within caused her to look round, and when it was over a weak, querulous voice said hurriedly--
'Shut the door, Rosalie; it's so cold; ask whoever it is to come in.'
The old man did not wait for a second invitation; he stepped inside the caravan, and the child closed the door.
It was a very small place; there was hardly room for him to stand. At the end of the caravan was a narrow bed something like a berth on board ship, and on it a woman was lying who was evidently very ill. She was the child's mother, the old man felt sure. She had the same beautiful eyes and sunny hair, though her face was thin and wasted.
There was not room for much furniture in the small caravan; a tiny stove, the chimney of which went through the wooden roof, a few pans, a shelf containing cups and saucers, and two boxes which served as seats, completely filled it. There was only just room for the old man to stand, and the fire was so near him that he was in danger of being scorched.
Rosalie had seated herself on one of the boxes close to her mother's bed.
'You must excuse my intruding, ma'am,' said the old man, with a polite bow; 'but I'm so fond of little folks, and I've brought this little girl of yours a picture, if she will accept it from me.'
A flush of pleasure came into the child's face as he brought out of his pocket his promised gift. She seized it eagerly, and held it up before her with evident delight, whilst her mother raised herself on her elbow to look at it with her.
It was the picture of a shepherd, with a very kind and compassionate face, who was bearing home in his bosom a lost lamb. The lamb's fleece was torn in several places, and there were marks of blood on its back, as if it had been roughly used by some cruel beast in a recent struggle.
But the shepherd seemed to have suffered more than the lamb, for he was wounded in many places, and his blood was falling in large drops on the ground. Yet he did not seem to mind it; his face was full of love and full of joy as he looked at the lamb. He had forgotten his sorrow in his joy that the lamb was saved.
In the distance were some of the shepherd's friends, who were coming to meet him, and underneath the picture were these words, printed in large letters--
'Rejoice with Me, for I have found My sheep which was lost. There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.'
The little girl read the words aloud in a clear, distinct voice; and her mother gazed at the picture with tears in her eyes.
'Those are sweet words, ain't they?' said the old man.
'Yes,' said the woman, with a sigh; 'I have heard them many times before.'
'Has the Good Shepherd ever said them of _you_, ma'am? Has He ever called the bright angels together and said to them of _you_, "Rejoice with Me, for I have found My sheep which was lost"?'
The woman did not speak; a fit of coughing came on, and the old man stood looking at her with a very pitying expression.
'You are very ill, ma'am, I'm afraid,' he said.
'Yes, very ill,' gasped the woman bitterly; 'every one can see that but Augustus!'
'That's my father,' said the little girl.
'No; he doesn't see it,' repeated the woman; 'he thinks I ought to get up and act in the play, just as usual. I did try at the last place we went to; but I fainted as soon as my part was over, and I've been in bed ever since.'
'You must be tired of moving about, ma'am,' said the old man compassionately.
'Tired?' said she; 'I should think I was tired; it isn't what I was brought up to. I was brought up to a very different kind of life from _this_,' she said, with a very deep-drawn sigh. 'It's a weary time I have of it--a weary time.'
'Are you always on the move, ma'am?' asked the old man.
'All the summer-time,' said the woman. 'We get into lodgings for a little time in the winter; and then we let ourselves out to some of the small town theatres; but all the rest of the year we're