don't you get in its way."

At this moment, in spite of Triplet's precaution, Mrs. Vane, casting
her eye accidentally round, caught sight of the picture, and instantly
started up, crying, "She is there!" Triplet was thunderstruck. "What
likeness!" cried she, and moved toward the supposed picture.

"Don't go to it!" cried Triplet, aghast; "the color is wet."

She stopped; but her eye and her very soul dwelt upon the supposed
picture; and Triplet stood quaking. "How like! It seems to breathe. You
are a great painter, sir. A glass is not truer."

Triplet, hardly knowing what he said, muttered something about "critics
and lights and shades."

"Then they are blind!" cried Mabel, never for a moment removing her eye
from the object. "Tell me not of lights and shades. The pictures I see
have a look of paint; but yours looks like life. Oh, that she were here,
as this _wonderful_ image of hers is. I would speak to her. I am not
wise or learned; but orators never pleaded as I would plead to her
for my Ernest's heart." Still her eye glanced upon the picture; and I
suppose her heart realized an actual presence, though her judgment did
not; for by some irresistible impulse she sank slowly down and stretched
her clasped hands toward it, while sobs and words seemed to break direct
from her bursting heart. "Oh, yes! you are beautiful, you are gifted,
and the eyes of thousands wait upon your very word and look. What wonder
that he, ardent, refined, and genial, should lay his heart at your feet?
And I have nothing but my love to make him love me. I cannot take him
from you. Oh, be generous to the weak! Oh, give him back to me! What is
one heart more to you? You are so rich, and I am so poor, that without
his love I have nothing, and can do nothing but sit me down and cry till
my heart breaks. Give him back to me, beautiful, terrible woman! for,
with all your gifts, you cannot love him as his poor Mabel does; and I
will love you longer perhaps than men can love. I will kiss your feet,
and Heaven above will bless you; and I will bless you and pray for you
to my dying day. Ah! it is alive! I am frightened! I am frightened!" She
ran to Triplet and seized his arm. "No!" cried she, quivering close to
him; "I'm not frightened, for it was for me she--Oh, Mrs. Woffington!"
and, hiding her face on Mr. Triplet's shoulder, she blushed, and wept,
and trembled.

What was it had betrayed Mrs. Woffington? _A tear!_

During the whole of this interv