Now the dislike with which Miss Kennedy had received the change of companions in this charade by no means lessened as the play went on.  The first scene had annoyed her, the minute she had time to think it over during the solo of the second; and now finding herself face to face with ideas as well as people,—­ideas that were not among her familiars,—­was very disagreeable; all the more that Mr. Nightingale had contrived to infuse rather more spirit into his part of the performance than was absolutely needful.  Wych Hazel looked unmistakeably disturbed, and her eyes never quitted the ground.  The audience, quite failing to catch her mood, only applauded.

‘Capital!’ said General Merrick.  ’Positively capital!  If it was a real case, and she in momentary expectation of her father, she might look just so.’

‘Or if she had accidentally escaped with the wrong person,’ said Captain Lancaster, who would have rather preferred to be in Mr. Nightingale’s position himself.

‘No,’ said one of the ladies, ’she is not afraid,—­what is she?’

‘She is Wych Hazel,’ said Mr. Kingsland.  ’Do you see what a breath came then?  Not complimentary to Nightingale—­but he can find somebody else to turn his head.’

Meanwhile, they all standing so, the old clergyman began his office.

‘Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?’ he demanded audibly enough.  And Stuart’s reply came clear—­

‘I will.’

‘Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband?’

He had turned towards the pretty peasant girl who stood there with her eyes cast down, and expectation was a-tiptoe.  Before the eyes were lifted, and before an answer could be returned, another actor came upon the scene.  The countryman who wore the dark blue cloth bound with crimson, stepped into the group from his place at the side of the curtain.  He wore his broad-brimmed hat, but removed his domino as he came upon the stage.  Yet he stood so that the audience were not in position to see his face.  They heard his voice.

‘There is a mistake here,’ he said with and excellent French accent on his English.  ’This lady is a—­what you call—­she has no power to dispose of herself.’

The clergyman looked somewhat doubtful and astonished; he had not been prepared for this turn of the play; but it was all in keeping, the interruption came naturally, quietly; he had to meet it accordingly.  Stuart’s face darkened; he knew better; nevertheless for him too there was but one thing possible, to go on and play the play.  His face was all in keeping, too.  The anger of the one and the doubt of the other actor were all proper to the action and only helped the effect.

‘Diable! what do you want here?’ the young peasant exclaimed.

‘What is all this, sir? what is this?’ said the old minister.  ‘What do you here, sir?’

‘I come for the lady.’

‘The lady don’t want to see you, you fool!’ exclaimed Stuart.  ‘You needn’t think it.’