O fool and blind! O fool and blind!
The night that was big with Tom's fate had come. The Coliseum was
crowded as we entered. In those days the theatre had no stalls, so
we sat in the front row of the dress circle, Tom having in his
modesty refused a box. He was behind the scenes until some five
minutes before the play began, so that before he joined me I had
ample time to study the house and look about for some sign of Claire.
Certainly, the sedulous manner in which the new tragedy had been
advertised was not without result. To me, unused as I was to
theatre-going, the host of people, the hot air, the glare of the
gas-lights were intoxicating. In a flutter of anxiety for Tom's
success, of sweet perturbation at the prospect of meeting Claire, at
first I could grasp but a confused image of the scene. By degrees,
however, I began to look about me, and then to scan the audience
narrowly for sight of my love.
Surely I should note her at once among thousands. Yet my first
glance was fruitless. I looked again, examined the house slowly face
by face, and again was baffled.
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