t, admire, and pity you," said Mrs. Woffington, sadly; "and
I could consent nevermore to communicate with your--with Mr. Vane."

"Ah!" cried Mabel; "Heaven will bless you! But will you give me back his
heart?"

"How can I do that?" said Mrs. Woffington, uneasily; she had not
bargained for this.

"The magnet can repel as well as attract. Can you not break your own
spell? What will his presence be to me, if his heart remain behind?"

"You ask much of me."

"Alas! I do."

"But I could do even this." She paused for breath. "And perhaps if you,
who have not only touched my heart, but won my respect, were to say
to me, 'Do so,' I should do it." Again she paused, and spoke with
difficulty; for the bitter struggle took away her breath. "Mr. Vane
thinks better of me than I deserve. I have--only--to make him believe
me--worthless--worse than I am--and he will drop me like an adder--and
love you better, far better--for having known--admired--and despised
Margaret Woffington."

"Oh!" cried Mabel, "I shall bless you every hour of my life."
Her countenance brightened into rapture at the picture, and Mrs.
Woffington's darkened with bitterness as she watched her.

But Mabel reflected. "Rob you of your good name?" said this pure
creature. "Ah, Mabel Vane! you think but of yourself."

"I thank you, madam," said Mrs. Woffington, a little touched by this
unexpected trait; "but some one must suffer here, and--"

Mabel Vane interrupted her. "This would be cruel and base," said she
firmly. "No woman's forehead shall be soiled by me. Oh, madam! beauty is
admired, talent is adored; but virtue is a woman's crown. With it, the
poor are rich; without it, the rich are poor. It walks through life
upright, and never hides its head for high or low."

Her face was as the face of an angel now; and the actress, conquered by
her beauty and her goodness, actually bowed her head and gently kissed
the hand of the country wife whom she had quizzed a few hours ago.

Frailty paid this homage to virtue!

Mabel Vane hardly noticed it; her eye was lifted to heaven, and her
heart was gone there for help in a sore struggle.

"This would be to assassinate you; no less. And so, madam," she sighed,
"with God's help, I do refuse your offer; choosing rather, if needs be,
to live desolate, but innocent--many a better than I hath lived so--ay!
if God wills it, to die, with my hopes and my heart crushed, but my
hands unstained; for so my humble life has pas