Glory Quayle has not been long in London when she is taken to the theatre by her friends Drake and Lord Robert Ure. The play was _Much Ado About Nothing_, and the actors Henry Irving and Ellen Terry. It is Glory’s first visit to the theatre, and her imagination runs riot in utter bewilderment.
But the fourth act witnessed Glory’s final vanquishment. When she found the scene was the inside of a church, and they were to be present at a wedding, she could not keep still on her seat for delight; but when the marriage was stopped, and Claudio uttered his denunciation of Hero, she said it was just like him, and it would serve him right if nobody believed him.
“But they _are_ believing him,” said Glory, quite audibly.
“Hush! hush!” came from many parts of the theatre.
“Well, that’s shameful—her father, too—” began Glory.
“Hush, Glory!” whispered Drake; but she had risen to her feet, and when Hero fainted and fell she uttered a cry.
“What a girl!” whispered Polly. “Sit down—everybody’s looking!”
“It’s only a play, you know,” whispered Drake; and Glory sat down and said,—
“Well, yes, of course, it’s only a play. Did you suppose—”
But she was lost in a moment. Beatrice and Benedick were alone in the church now; and when Beatrice said, “Kill Claudio,” Glory leapt up again and clapped her hands. But Benedick would not kill Claudio, and it was the last straw of all. That wasn’t what she called being a great actor, and it was shameful to sit and listen to such plays. Lots of disgraceful scenes happened in life, but people didn’t come to the theatre to see such things, and she would go.
“How ridiculous you are!” said Polly; but Glory was out in the corridor, and Drake was going after her.
She came back at the beginning of the fifth act with red eyes and confused smiles, looking very much ashamed. From that moment onward she cried a good deal, but gave no other sign until the green curtain came down at the end, when she said,—
“It’s a wonderful thing! To make people forget it’s not true is the most wonderful thing in the world!”
But Drake and Lord Robert are merely friends; it is the Reverend John Storm whom she loves. He has “a well-formed nose, a powerful chin, and full lips. … His complexion is dark, almost swarthy, and there is a certain look of the gipsy in his big golden-brown eyes with their long black lashes.” Her love is returned, but he has forsworn the world, and she is longing to become an actress, to have the world at her feet, applauding her, and showering on her all the praise and glory at their command. Which is it to be?—Love without the World?—or the World without Love? She cannot decide. Meanwhile she has left the hospital, and John Storm has entered a Brotherhood in the heart of London, and taken the necessary vows. Meanwhile, Glory is passing through strange vicissitudes, keeping body and soul together by different occupations, serving in a tobacconist’s shop, and selling programmes at a theatre. But she writes cheery letters to the old people at home in the Isle of Man, making them believe that she is happy and well, and that the world is a very beautiful place to live in. Here is one of her letters:—