Nevertheless, I was aware of the prejudice that the world has
against an actor, however celebrated he may be, so whenever I went into
society, I dropped the name of Blackdeed, and resumed my own rightful
one. Many, however, on being introduced to me remarked how much I
resembled the celebrated young actor Blackdeed; but it was not for some
time afterwards that it was generally known that we were one and the
same person. One evening, as I was entering a ball-room, I noticed that when my name
was announced some confusion took place. As I entered, who should come
forward to meet me but my father, whom I had not seen for three years. He advanced towards me, more in sorrow than in anger, and addressed me
in tones in which pride and natural affection strove for the mastery. "We meet at last, sir," he said; "I leave it to your conscience to
imagine the state of anxiety into which you have thrown your poor mother
and myself by your cruel conduct. I would fain have overlooked the whole
as a boyish freak, had you returned home of your own accord and sought
my pardon; as it is, what can I say to you for having disgraced my
name?" "Disgraced your name, father! How?" "Yes, sir; disgraced my name, by associating it with the stage--a name
untainted and highly honoured for many generations back." "Indeed, sir," I said, "I never yet heard that talent or genius could
disgrace a name. However, aware of your prejudice against the stage, I
have dropped your name, which might otherwise have become famous, and
act under a fictitious one." "Humph!" said he, somewhat pacified that his name had escaped disgrace. "And what may be your theatrical name?" "Blackdeed," said I. "What! So you are the celebrated young actor everyone talks so much
about," said he. "Well, well, you have been very foolish and very wrong,
but if you consent to leave this life and return home with me, all may
yet be well. Come," he said coaxingly. "Father," I said, "my course is mapped out. I have chosen my profession,
and I must follow my true avocation. The voice of nature is stronger
than yours. Seek not to battle against my destiny." My father, though immensely disappointed at my determination, would not,
I believe, have cut me off, but dying suddenly, intestate, his estate
was seized by his brother. This led to a law-suit between my uncle and
myself, which lasted until nearly all my father's fortune was squandered
away. I never got a farthing. Thus ever since I have had nothing to
depend upon but my profession for a livelihood. It now began to be rumoured abroad in society that I was none other than
that very Blackdeed whose acting had created such a _furore_ in the
world. It also began to be said that I was the heir to an immense
fortune, out of which I had been swindled by an unprincipled uncle. I
met those who knew my family well, and my misfortune procured for me the
sympathy of many. I possessed a still greater interest in the eyes of
the world now, and I found myself a greater lion than ever. On one occasion after I had been acting Romeo at our theatre I donned my
dress clothes and dropped in late at a friend's house where there was a
ball, and here I made the acquaintance of a certain family who resided
not far from my father's house and knew my father intimately. The family
consisted of an elderly gentleman, his wife, and three daughters. The two elder sisters were very ordinary young ladies, such as one is
sure to find in every ball-room. They were neither pretty nor ugly;
their manners conventional, their conversation flat and insipid. When
talking to one they appeared to be thinking of something else, and their
answers were generally in monosyllables. The youngest daughter, however, differed much from her two eldest
sisters, both in mind and in features; so much so, indeed, that I
imagined for some time that she must be their step-sister, but this was
not the case, as I found out afterwards. Maud--that was the name of the
younger--was by far the cleverest really of the whole family, and yet
she was looked upon as a ninny by the rest. She had more originality in
her than either of her two sisters, as I soon observed from her remarks;
but she was also more retired, and preferred to hide her light, as it
were, under a bushel. It was only now and then that I could catch a
glimpse of it, but when I did so it was most brilliant. Without being strikingly beautiful, her face had that in it that
captivates more than mere beauty. The expression was ingenuous and
pensive, at times melancholy. When in society she never seemed like one
of the herd, or to take the slightest interest in what was going on. She
went through her dancing mechanically, and always seemed in the clouds,
or, as her sisters would say, "wool-gathering." It was easy to see from the first that no very sister-like feeling
existed between the two elder sisters and their younger one. Even the
parents preferred their two elder girls to their youngest daughter. The fact was that they--none of them--understood her; she was not of
their order, and they set her down as rather wanting. If she was scolded
for anything and she bore the rebuke with patience, this was set down to
indifference and want of feeling, when my own experience of her
character was that she was the most sensitive creature that I had ever
met with. If, as was often the case, she fell into a reverie in company,
it was called sulkiness, and if when asked to perform on the piano, she
meekly obeyed in a sort of languid manner peculiar to herself, it was
called unwillingness to oblige; yet when at the instrument her touch was
so soft and full of feeling, her voice so clear and modulating, that it
seemed as if her whole soul was poured forth in the piece. Nevertheless, neither her parents nor her sisters appreciated her
playing, or found in it anything more artistic or soul-stirring than in
the performance of other people. She was never thanked or applauded by
her family for any service or kindness of hers towards them, but often
upbraided for selfishness when her dreamy nature would cause her to
forget the wants of others, while in reality she was one of the most
unselfish beings on this earth. How many mistakes might be rectified, if
the different members of a family would take the trouble to study each
other more accurately! Maud's nature was reserved to a fault; she did not care to shine, and
this was put down to incapacity. Whether it was she felt she could if
she chose, and in so doing utterly eclipse her two elder sisters, and
consequently incur their envy, or whether it was an excess of modesty, I
know not. One thing is certain, she possessed fine talents, and those,
too, of an uncommon kind. Her health was delicate, and her parents,
perhaps attributed her peculiarities to the state of her health, while
her two sisters, without allowing any such excuse, looked upon her as a
downright fool. She was snubbed on every occasion, and kept as much as possible in the
background.