“I could not gainsay her, so I said as gravely as I could to the little woman, ‘The secret shall be kept, but you must ask me if you want anything.’ She bent over, suddenly kissed my hand, and I went down the stair. “The next night she was shy in coming for the whisky, and I took care that she had good measure. “The last night of our long run of six nights she looked more happy than I had ever seen her. When she came for the whisky she held out the thimble, and whispered to me with her poor, pale lips trembling, ‘You need only pretend to-night.’ “‘Why?’ I whispered. “‘Because—he doesn’t want it now. He’s dead.’” The London engagement was offered him by the late Mr. A. Harris, then managing the Princess’s Theatre. It was for three years. But when he arrived he found that the only opening given him was a part of a few lines in a play called ‘Ivy Hall.’ As this meagre employment promised neither improvement nor fame, he went to the manager and begged his release. This he obtained, and courageously quitted London, determined not to return until he could claim a respectable and conspicuous position. Thus we find him, with perhaps a heavy heart, once more returning to the provinces, just as Mrs. Siddons had to return to the same form of drudgery after her failure at Drury Lane. Before leaving London, that wholesome taste for appealing to the appreciation of the judicious and intellectual portion of the community, which has always been “a note” of his character, prompted him to give two readings at the old palace of Crosby Hall. In this he was encouraged by City friends and old companions, who had faith in his powers. It was something to make this exhibition under the roof-tree of that interesting old pile, not yet “restored”; and the _locale_, we may imagine, was in harmony with his own refined tastes. He read the ‘Lady of Lyons’ on December 19, 1859, and the somewhat artificial ‘Virginius’ on February 1, 1860. These performances were received with favour, and were pronounced by the public critics to show scholarly feeling and correct taste. “His conception was good, his delivery clear and effective, and there was a gentlemanly ease and grace in his manners which is exceedingly pleasing to an audience.” One observer with some prescience detected “the indefinite something which incontestably and instantaneously shows that the fire of genius is present.” Another pronounced “that he was likely to make a name for himself.” At the last scenes between the hero and Pauline, the listeners were much affected, and “in some parts of the room sobs were heard.” Another judge opined that “if he attempted a wider sphere of action,” he would have a most successful career. This “wider sphere of action” he has since “attempted,” but at that moment his eyes were strained, wearily enough, looking for it. It lay before him in the weary round of work in the provinces, to which, as we have seen, he had now to return.