the top shelf of the cupboard, in my bedroom. Between thinking of how to take care of the mask, and how to take care of myself, I quite forgot it. Don’t look so frightened, Annie! The people at the lodgings are not likely to find it; and if they did, they wouldn’t know what it was, and would throw it away. I’ve got the mask; and that’s all I want — the mould is of no consequence to me, now — it’s the mask that’s everything — everything in the world!’
‘I can’t help feeling frightened, grandfather; and I can’t help wishing you had brought away the mould, though I don’t know why.’
‘You’re frightened, Annie, about the Stratford people coming after me here — that’s what you’re frightened about. But, if you and Julius Caesar keep the secret from everybody — and I know you will — there is no fear at all. They won’t catch me back at Stratford again, or you either; and if the churchwardens themselves found the mould, that wouldn’t tell them where I was gone, would it? Look up, you silly little Annie! We’re quite safe here. Look up, and see the great sight I’m going to show you — a sight that nobody in England can show, but me; — the mask! the mask of Shakespeare!’
His cheeks flushed, his fingers trembled, as he took the key out of his pocket and put it into the lock of the old cash box. ‘Julius Caesar’, breathless with wonder and suspense, clapped both his hands behind him, to make sure of breaking nothing this time. Even Annie caught the infection of the old man’s triumph and delight, and breathed quicker than usual when she heard the click of the opening lock.
‘There!’ cried Mr Wray, throwing back the lid; ‘there is the face of William Shakespeare! there is the treasure which the greatest lord in this land doesn’t possess — a copy of the Stratford bust! Look at the forehead! Who’s got such a forehead now? Look at his eyes; look at his nose. He was not only the greatest man that ever lived, but the handsomest, too! Who says this isn’t just what his face was; his face taken after death? Who’s bold enough to say so? Just look at the mouth, dropped and open — that’s one proof? Look at the cheek, under the right eye; don’t you see a little paralytic gathering up of the muscle, not visible on the other side? — that’s another proof! Oh, Annie, Annie! there’s the very face that once looked out, alive and beaming, on this poor old world of ours! There’s the man who’s comforted me, informed me, made me what I am! There’s the “counterfeit presentment”, the precious earthly relic of that great spirit who is now with the angels in Heaven, and singing among the sweetest of them!’
His voice grew faint, and his eyes moistened. He stood looking at the mask, with a rapture and a triumph which no speech could express. At such moments as those, even through that poor, meagre face, the immortal spirit within could still shine out in the beauty which never dies! — even in that frail old earthly tenement, could still vindicate outwardly the divine destiny of all mankind!
They were yet gathered silently round the Shakespeare cast, when a loud knock sounded at the room door. Instantly, old Reuben banged down the lid of the cash box, and locked it; and as instantly, without waiting for permission to enter, a stranger walked in.
He was dressed in a long greatcoat, wore a red comforter round his neck, and carried a very old and ill-looking cat-skin cap in his hand. His face was uncommonly dirty; his eyes uncommonly inquisitive; his whiskers uncommonly plentiful; and his voice most uncommonly and determinately gruff, in spite of his efforts to dulcify it for the occasion.
‘Miss, and gentlemen both, beggin’ all your pardons,’ said this new arrival, ‘vich is Mr Wray?’ As he spoke, his eyes travelled all round the room, seeing everything and everybody in it; and then glancing sharply at the cash box.
‘I am Mr Wray, sir,’ exclaimed our old friend, considerably startled, but recovering the Kemble manner and the Kemble elocution as if by magic.
‘Wery good,’ said the stranger. ‘Then beggin’ your pardon again, sir, in pertickler, could you be so kind as to ‘blige me with a card o’ terms? It’s for a young gentleman as wants you, Mr Wray,’ he continued in a whisper, approaching the old man, and quite abstractedly leaning one hand on the cash box.
‘Take your hand off that box, sir,’ cried Mr Wray, in a very fierce manner, but with a very trembling voice. At the same moment ‘Julius Caesar’ advanced a step or two, partially doubling his fist. The man with the cat-skin cap had probably never before been so nearly knocked down in his life. Perhaps he suspected as much; for he took his hand off the box in great hurry.
‘It was inadwertent, sir,’ he remarked in explanation — ’a little inadwertency of mine, that’s all. But could you ‘blige me vith that card o’ terms? The young gentleman as wants it has heerd of your advertisement; and, bein’ d’awful shaky in his pronounciashun, as vell as ‘scruciatin’ bad at readin’ aloud, he’s ‘ard up for improvement — the sort o’ secret thing you gives, you know, to the oraytors and the clujjymen, at three-and-six an hour. You’ll heer from him in secret, Mr Wray, sir; and precious vork you’ll ‘ave to git him to rights; but do just ‘blige me ‘vith the card o’ terms and the number of the ‘ouse; ‘cos I promised to git ‘em for him today.’
‘There is a card, sir, and I will engage to improve his delivery be it ever so bad,’ said Mr Wray, considerably relieved at hearing the real nature of the stranger’s errand.
‘Miss, and gentlemen both, good mornin’,’ said the man, putting on his cat-skin cap, ‘you’ll heer from the young gentleman today; and wotever you do, sir, mind you keep the h’applicashun a secret — mind that!’ He winked; and went out.
‘I declare,’ muttered Mr Wray, as the door closed, ‘I thought he was a thief-taker from Stratford. Think of his being only a messenger from a new pupil! I told you we should have a pupil today. I told you so.’
‘A very strange-looking messenger, grandfather, for a young gentleman to choose!’ said Annie.
‘He can’t help his looks, my dear; and I’m sure we shan’t mind them, if he brings us money. Have you seen enough of the mask? if you hav’nt I’ll open the box again.’
‘Enough for today, I think, grandfather. But, tell me, why do you keep the mask in that old cash box?’
‘Because I’ve nothing else, Annie, that will hold it, and lock up too. I was sorry, my dear, to disturb your “odds and ends”, as you call them; but really there was nothing else to take. Stop! I’ve a thought! Julius Caesar shall make me a new box for the mask, and then you shall have your old one back again.’
‘I don’t want it, grandfather! I’d rather we none of us had it. Carrying a cash box like that about with us, might make some people think we had money in it.’
‘Money! People think I have any money! Come, come, Annie! that really won’t do! That’s much too good a joke, you sly little puss, you!’ And the old man laughed heartily, as he hurried off, to deposit the precious mask in his bedroom.
‘You’ll make that new box, Julius Caesar, won’t you?’ said Annie earnestly, as soon as her grandfather left the room.
‘I’ll get some wood, this very day,’ answered the carpenter, ‘and turn out such a box, by tomorrow, as — as — ’ He was weak at comparisons; so he stopped at the second ‘as’.
‘Make it quick, dear, make it quick,’ said the little girl, anxiously; ‘and then we’ll give away the old cash box. If grandfather had only told us what he was going to do, at first, he need never have used it; for you could have made him a new box beforehand. But, never mind! make it quick, now!’
Oh,
