d the Pomanders of the
world. At all littlenesses, you will ever be awkward in my eyes. And I
am a woman. I must have a superior to love--lie open to my eye. Light
itself is not more beautiful than the upright man, whose bosom is open
to the day. Oh yes! fear not you will be my superior, dear; for in me
honesty has to struggle against the habits of my art and life. Be simple
and sincere, and I shall love you, and bless the hour you shone upon my
cold, artificial life. Ah, Ernest!" said she, fixing on his eye her own,
the fire of which melted into tenderness as she spoke, "be my friend.
Come between me and the temptations of an unprotected life--the
recklessness of a vacant heart."

He threw himself at her feet. He called her an angel. He told her he
was unworthy of her, but that he would try and deserve her. Then he
hesitated, and trembling he said:

"I will be frank and loyal. Had I not better tell you everything? You
will not hate me for a confession I make myself?"

"I shall like you better--oh! so much better!"

"Then I will own to you--"

"Oh, do not tell me you have ever loved before me! I could not bear to
hear it!" cried this inconsistent personage.

The other weak creature needed no more.

"I see plainly I never loved but you," said he.

"Let me hear that only!" cried she; "I am jealous even of the past. Say
you never loved but me. Never mind whether it is true. My child, you do
not even yet know love. Ernest, shall I make you love--as none of your
sex ever loved--with heart, and brain, and breath, and life, and soul?"

With these rapturous words, she poured the soul of love into his eyes;
he forgot everything in the world but her; he dissolved in present
happiness and vowed himself hers forever. And she, for her part, bade
him but retain her esteem and no woman ever went further in love than
she would. She was a true epicure. She had learned that passion, vulgar
in itself, is god-like when based upon esteem.

This tender scene was interrupted by the call-boy, who brought Mrs.
Woffington a note from the manager, informing her there would be
no rehearsal. This left her at liberty, and she proceeded to take a
somewhat abrupt leave of Mr. Vane. He was endeavoring to persuade her
to let him be her companion until dinner-time (she was to be his quest),
when Pomander entered the room.

Mrs. Woffington, however, was not to be persuaded, she excused herself
on the score of a duty which she said she had to