how she worked these
slight materials.) On the letter was written in pencil simply these two
words, "Mabel Vane." Mrs. Woffington wrote above these words two more,
"Alone and unprotected." She put this into Mr. Triplet's hand, and bade
him take it down stairs and give it Sir Charles Pomander, whose retreat,
she knew, must have been fictitious. "You will find him round the
corner," said she, "or in some shop that looks this way." While uttering
these words she had put on Mrs. Vane's hood and mantle.

No answer was returned, and no Triplet went out of the door.

She turned, and there he was kneeling on both knees close under her.

"Bid me jump out of that window, madam; bid me kill those two gentlemen,
and I will not rebel. You are a great lady, a talented lady; you have
been insulted, and no doubt blood will flow. It ought--it is your due;
but that innocent lady, do not compromise her!"

"Oh, Mr. Triplet, you need not kneel to me. I do not wish to force you
to render me a service. I have no right to dictate to you."

"Oh, dear!" cried Triplet, "don't talk in that way. I owe you my life,
but I think of your own peace of mind, for you are not one to be happy
if you injure the innocent!" He rose suddenly, and cried: "Madam,
promise me not to stir till I come back!"

"Where are you going?"

"To bring the husband to his wife's feet, and so save one angel from
despair, and another angel from a great crime."

"Well, I suppose you are wiser than I," said she. "But, if you are in
earnest, you had better be quick, for somehow I am rather changeable
about these people."

"You can't help that, madam, it is your sex; you are an angel. May I
be permitted to kiss your hand? you are all goodness and gentleness at
bottom. I fly to Mr. Vane, and we will be back before you have time to
repent, and give the Devil the upper hand again, my dear, good, sweet
lady!"

Away flew Triplet, all unconscious that he was not Mrs. Woffington's
opponent, but puppet. He ran, he tore, animated by a good action, and
spurred by the notion that he was in direct competition with the fiend
for the possession of his benefactress. He had no sooner turned the
corner than Mrs. Woffington, looking out of the window, observed Sir
Charles Pomander on the watch, as she had expected. She remained at
the window with Mrs. Vane's hood on, until Sir Charles's eye in its
wanderings lighted on her, and then, dropping Mrs. Vane's letter from
the window, she hastil