Miss Bretherton | Page 4

Kendal betook himself once more to the pictures, and, presently finding
some acquaintances, made a rapid tour of the rooms with them, parting
with them at the entrance that he might himself go back and look at two
or three things in the sculpture room which he had been told were
important and promising. There he came across the American, Edward
Wallace, who at once took him by the arm with the manner of an old
friend and a little burst of laughter.
'So you saw the introduction? What a man is Forbes! He is as young
still as he was at eighteen. I envy him. He took Miss Bretherton right
round, talked to her of all his favourite hobbies, looked at her in a way
which would have been awkward if it had been anybody else but such a
gentlemanly maniac as Forbes, and has almost made her promise to sit
to him. Miss Bretherton was a little bewildered, I think. She is so new
to London that she doesn't know who's who yet in the least. I had to
take her aside and explain to her Forbes's honours; then she fired
up--there is a naïve hero-worship about her just now that she is fresh
from a colony--and made herself as pleasant to him as a girl could be. I
prophesy Forbes will think of nothing else for the season.'
'Well, she's a brilliant creature,' said Kendal. 'It's extraordinary how she
shone out beside the pretty English girls about her. It is an intoxicating
possession for a woman, such beauty as that; it's like royalty; it places
the individual under conditions quite unlike those of common mortals. I
suppose it's that rather than any real ability as an actress that has made
her a success? I noticed the papers said as much--some more politely
than others.'
'Oh, she's not much of an actress; she has no training, no finesse. But

you'll see, she'll be the great success of the season. She has wonderful
grace on the stage, and a fine voice in spite of tricks. And then her
Wesen is so attractive; she is such a frank, unspoilt, good-hearted
creature. Her audience falls in love with her, and that goes a long way.
But I wish she had had a trifle more education and something worth
calling a training. Her manager, Robinson, talks of her attempting all
the great parts; but it's absurd. She talks very naïvely and prettily about
"her art"; but really she knows no more about it than a baby, and it is
perhaps part of her charm that she is so unconscious of her ignorance.'
'It is strange how little critical English audiences are,' said Kendal. 'I
believe we are the simplest people in the world. All that we ask is that
our feelings should be touched a little, but whether by the art or the
artist doesn't matter. She has not been long playing in London, has
she?'
'Only a few weeks. It's only about two months since she landed from
Jamaica. She has a curious history, if you care to hear it; I don't think
I've seen you at all since I made friends with her?'
'No,' said Kendal; 'I was beginning to suspect that something absorbing
had got hold of you. I've looked for you two or three times at the club,
and could not find you.'
'Oh, it's not Miss Bretherton that has taken up my time. She's so busy
that nobody can see much of her. But I have taken her and her people
out, two or three times, sight-seeing, since they came--Westminster
Abbey, the National Gallery, and so forth. She is very keen about
everything, and the Worralls--her uncle and aunt--stick to her pretty
closely.'
'Where does she come from?'
'Well, her father was the Scotch overseer of a sugar plantation not far
from Kingston, and he married an Italian, one of your fair Venetian
type--a strange race-combination; I suppose it's the secret of the
brilliancy and out-of-the-wayness of the girl's beauty. Her mother died
when she was small, and the child grew up alone. Her father, however,

seems to have been a good sort of man, and to have looked after her.
Presently she drew the attention of an uncle, a shopkeeper in Kingston,
and a shrewd, hard, money-making fellow, who saw there was
something to be made out of her. She had already shown a turn for
reciting, and had performed at various places--in the schoolroom
belonging to the estate, and so on. The father didn't encourage her
fancy for it, naturally, being Scotch and Presbyterian. However, he died
of fever, and then the child at sixteen fell into her uncle's charge. He
seems to have seen at once exactly what line to take. To put it cynically,
I