At
first she was wounded, then she was indignant. She remembered how
faithless he had proved, and all her bitterness against him and Sally
Salisbury revived. Then came a revulsion of feeling. Why should he not
be ill? Nay, he might even be dead. Perhaps worse. If he had carried out
his despairing threat? She pictured him floating on the surface of a
Hampstead pond and a shudder went over her at the gruesome thought.
Finally she subsided into dull resignation and strove to think no more
about him.
It was September; with the colder weather came the waning of the
Hampstead season, the fashionable folk were returning to London and
preparing for masquerades, ridottos, the theatres and the opera. The
Great Room concerts were but thinly attended and for a whole fortnight
Lavinia had not sung twice. But this did not matter to her. She had been
written to by John Rich, and he had engaged her at a little higher
salary than he had hitherto paid.
Lavinia sang for the last time at Hampstead and quitted the Great Room
not without regrets and doubts. Would she be as successful at the Duke's
Theatre? Would she have her chance? She well knew the rivalries a
rising actress would have to encounter. But what disturbed her most was
that Gay's enthusiasm over his opera did not seem so keen as it had
been. She dared not ask him the cause of his depression. She could only
watch his varying moods and hope the melancholy ones would pass.
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