“What do you think I did? Shall I tell you? Yes, I will. I crept
upstairs to my quiet little room, tugged the box from its hiding-place
under the bed, drew out my dresses--my lovely, lovely brocades--and put
them on! Then I spoke the potion speech, beginning in a whisper, but
getting louder as I went on, and always looking at myself in the glass.
I had blown out the candle, and there was no light in the room but the
moon that was shining on my face, but I was glowing, my very soul was
afire, and when I came to the end I drew myself up with eyes closed
and head thrown back and heart that paused a beat or two, and said,
'_I_--_I_ am Juliet, for I am a great actress!'
“Oh, oh, oh! I could scream with laughter to think of what happened
next! Suddenly I became aware of somebody knocking at my door (I
had locked it) and of a thin voice outside saying fretfully: 'Glory,
whatever is it? Aren't you well, Glory?' It was the little auntie; and
thinking what a shock she would have if I opened the door and she came
upon this grand Italian lady instead of poor little me, I had to laugh
and to make excuses while I smuggled off my gorgeous things and got back
into my plain ones!
“It was a narrow squeak; but I had a narrower one some days before. Poor
grandfather! He regards Rosa as belonging to a superior race, and loves
to ask her what she thinks of Glory. He has grown quite simple lately,
and as soon as he thinks my back is turned he is always saying, 'And
what is your opinion of my granddaughter, Miss Macquarrie?' To which she
answers, 'Glory is going to make your name immortal, Mr. Quayle.' Then
his eyes sparkle and he says, 'Do you think so?--do you really think
so?' Whereupon she talks further balderdash, and the dear old darling
smiles a triumphant smile!
“But I always notice that not long afterward his eyes look wet and his
head hangs low, and he is saying to the aunties, with a crack in his
voice: 'She'll go away again. You'll see she will. Her beauty and her
talents belong to the world.' And then I burst in on them and scold
them, and tell them not to talk nonsense.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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