AT last the time of leaving the table came--oh, moment to me most welcome! It seemed to me that we had sat an age at the board; but at the last, my corporeal had been forgotten in my mental pain.
If the reader has any bowels of compassion, he is now hoping that my troubles are over; that I shall go quietly home, take off the offending boot, enclose my foot in an easy slipper, and then, in the evening, with an old boot well polished, pay my respects to my mistress--explain all--receive her forgiveness, and be again happy. Would it were so! But let me not anticipate.
Before we sat down to dinner, it had been arranged, that we--that is, my friend, wife, and sister, myself and Miss L----, should go to the theatre in the evening, to hear, or rather see, a celebrated little French actress, whose star was then in the ascendant. I had no time to make new arrangements; for when we rose from the table, it was even then time to set forth. The fresh air and the lively conversation of my friends nearly restored me to myself; so that when we took possession of our box, I was comfortable both in body and mind. But for my foot there was no permanent peace. There was but a temporary truce with pain. I had not been seated ten minutes, before the enemy returned, rëinforced. I soon felt that to endure until the play was over, would be utterly beyond my power. There was but one course to pursue. I silently slipped my foot from the boot, and sitting close to my companion, succeeded--thanks to the ample folds of her cloak!--in securing my white stocking from observation. The acting was superb--my foot was at ease--my companion agreeable--and I quite forgot that I was bootless.
THE last act was closed, and the curtain fell. My friends immediately left the box. Mr. H---- offered an arm each to his wife and sister, and--you would not expect a lady to wait for her beau!--Miss L---- walked with them, but not without 'a lingering look behind.' The instant they were out of the box, I seized my boot, and attempted to thrust my foot into it; but it had swollen, and the first effort cost me excruciating pain; yet this I did not regard. But all my efforts were vain. I could as easily have thrust an alderman through a key-hole. I seized my pen-knife, and split the offending boot nearly from top to toe. Then planting my foot on the sole, I tied the string of my drawers tightly around the leg, and rushed through the crowd. In my haste, I well-nigh overturned a fat old lady, who was leaning on her son's arm. The old woman cried, 'Oh Lord!' and the youth, in ire, muttered an oath, and raised his cane; but I was two quick for him. I reached the door, amid the screams of the ladies, the deep, though for the most part unspoken, curses of the men, and the cry of 'Seize him!' from the police officers. But my friends and my betrothed, where were they? Lost in the crowd, or shut up in some of the carriages that were pressing around the door? I saw at once that all search was useless. I waited until nearly all had left the house, and then slowly and sadly took my way to my hotel. I went to bed; but the visions of the day were present to my waking thoughts, or haunted my short and troubled slumbers. How often, between sleep and awake, did I long for the boots, and envy the comfortable estate of their free-and-easy wearer, so felicitously described by the author of '_Boots, a Slipshodical Lyric_,' in an early number of this Magazine.