said he. "How can I ever look you in the face again?"

"Ah! you disarm me! But I must strike you, or this will never end. Did
I not promise that, when you had earned my _if_ esteem, I would
tell you--what no mortal knows--Ernest, my whole story? I delay the
confession. It will cost me so many blushes, so many tears! And yet I
hope, if you knew all, you would pity and forgive me. Meantime, did I
ever tell you a falsehood?"

"Oh no!"

"Why doubt me then, when I tell you that I hold all your sex cheap
but you? Why suspect me of Heaven knows what, at the dictation of a
heartless, brainless fop--on the word of a known liar, like the world?"

Black lightning flashed from her glorious eyes as she administered this
royal rebuke. Vane felt what a poor creature he was, and his face showed
such burning shame and contrition, that he obtained his pardon without
speaking.

"There," said she, kindly, "do not let us torment one another. I forgive
you. Let me make you happy, Ernest. Is that a great favor to ask? I can
make you happier than your brightest dream of happiness, if you will let
yourself be happy."

They rejoined the others; but Vane turned his back on Pomander, and
would not look at him.

"Sir Charles," said Mrs. Woffington gayly; for she scorned to admit the
fine gentleman to the rank of a permanent enemy, "you will be of our
party, I trust, at dinner?"

"Why, no, madam; I fear I cannot give myself that pleasure to-day." Sir
Charles did not choose to swell the triumph. "Mr. Vane, good day!"
said he, rather dryly. "Mr. Triplet--madam--your most obedient!" and,
self-possessed at top, but at bottom crestfallen, he bowed himself away.

Sir Charles, however, on descending the stair and gaining the street,
caught sight of a horseman, riding uncertainly about, and making his
horse curvet, to attract attention.

He soon recognized one of his own horses, and upon it the servant he had
left behind to dog that poor innocent country lady. The servant sprang
off his horse and touched his hat. He informed his master that he had
kept with the carriage until ten o'clock this morning, when he had
ridden away from it at Barnet, having duly pumped the servants as
opportunity offered.

"Who is she?" cried Sir Charles.

"Wife of a Cheshire squire, Sir Charles," was the reply.

"His name? Whither goes she in town?"

"Her name is Mrs. Vane, Sir Charles. She is going to her husband."

"Curious!" cried Sir Charles. "I wish she h