Free Portrait of a Girl by Mary Williams Page B

were impossible to discern. In the slowly fading light and shadows of overhanging cliffs boat and rocks were almost blended into one.
    At first I’d thought I could be mistaken, but I wasn’t. When I moved forward a human shape appeared on deck, followed by another. Their appearance was only brief. In a few seconds they’d disappeared — moved below. But my heart jerked. In that fleeting space of time something about the first figure had been curiously familiar — the build and way of moving in the taped coat — his bold erect stance and sudden manner of turning and striding away bore an uncanny resemblance to Rupert. I was puzzled; what could Rupert Verne be doing at such at hour aboard a strange vessel in such an unlikely, dangerous, and remote harbour?
    I managed presently to convince myself I’d been wrong, and had concocted unconsciously an image of the man who was always so deep in my mind. Even then doubts lingered. I waited a little longer wondering if the forms would return. But they did not. A single dot of light flickered for a moment then disappeared. All was dark. The sky, too, had quickly faded, merging the horizon of sea and land into one.
    Hoping Dame Jenny would be unaware of my over-long absence from the house, I turned and took the thread of curving lane as quickly as possible back to Tregonnis.
    *
    The day for travelling to Exeter for the opening performance at the Regal Opera House at last arrived. I was given a sleeping potion the evening before to enable me to face the journey calmly, in the company of Mr Verne and his lady wife, who, unfortunately for me, insisted upon being present herself at my debut. We journeyed by luxury four horse omnibus from Truro to Plymouth, where we stayed the night. In the morning we set off by rail for Exeter, arriving at the city by four-thirty in the afternoon. Signor Luigi accompanied us for which I was grateful. He had a stabilising influence on my growing excitement and nervous tension, and although being quite tired conversation was intermittent, his presence kept me less conscious of Lady Verne’s cold stare than otherwise I would have been.
    She was looking quite regal in a plain-coloured wild crimson silk gown, under a silver grey paletot with a shoulder cape. Bands of velvet braid and plum covered buttons completed an elegant effect, and her bonnet of the same shades was worn at a fashionable angle, revealing glossy glimpses of shining black hair in contrast to the extreme magnolia pallor of her finely set features.
    I wore a new cape which her ladyship had insisted on choosing herself. It was of good quality, but as usual, brown, and rather severe, giving no glamour to my looks. My bonnet-hat, too, was ordinary. However, I contrived to add a length of green ribbon and a spray of shining leaves to brighten the effect, and from the look on my lady’s face when she noticed, I knew I’d succeeded in my objective.
    When I think back now on the next few days, no words can express the conflict of emotions — confusion, excitement, and daze of events following one upon the other at such speed my head still whirls. It was like living in a dream. I was both bewildered and exhilarated by the luxury of the hotel overlooking gardens, the delicious meals, impeccable service, the rose and gold furnishings, rich carpeting and soundless approach of servants and footmen to fulfil our slightest wish. My bedroom was huge, ornately furnished with an elegance I’d imagined existed only for royalty or in fairy tales. If I had not been so physically tired I wouldn’t have slept at all that night. But the great bed was so soft and comfortable, I drifted almost at once into dreamless slumber, waking up only when a maid servant arrived with morning tea.
    After breakfast I was taken on a shopping expedition to equip me more suitably to meet the manager in the afternoon at the theatre. He was a tall, thin man with an eagle gaze and brusque manner. He wore an eye-glass and seldom