And it
certainly is not too much to say that, had Lizzie Eustace been trained as
an actress, she would have become a favourite with the town. When there
came to her any fair scope for acting, she was perfect. In the ordinary
scenes of ordinary life, such as befell her during her visit to Fawn
Court, she could not acquit herself well. There was no reality about her,
and the want of it was strangely plain to most unobservant eyes. But give
her a part to play that required exaggerated, strong action, and she
hardly ever failed. Even in that terrible moment when, on her return from
the theatre, she thought that the police had discovered her secret about
the diamonds, though she nearly sank through fear, she still carried on
her acting in the presence of Lucinda Roanoke; and when she had found
herself constrained to tell the truth to Lord George Carruthers, the power
to personify a poor, weak, injured creature was not wanting to her. The
reader will not think that her position in society at the present moment
was very well established, will feel, probably, that she must still have
known herself to be on the brink of social ruin.
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