fessed no respect for her
should thus keep the light from him; and he could hardly conceal his
satisfaction when Pomander, at night, bade him farewell for a fortnight.
Pressing business took Sir Charles into the country.

The good Sir Charles, however, could not go without leaving his sting
behind as a companion to his friend. He called on Mr. Vane and after a
short preface, containing the words "our friendship," "old kindness,"
"my greater experience," he gravely warned him against Mrs. Woffington.

"Not that I would say this if you could take her for what she is, and
amuse yourself with her as she will with you, if she thinks it worth her
while. But I see you have a heart, and she will make a football of it,
and torment you beyond all you have ever conceived of human anguish."

Mr. Vane colored high, and was about to interrupt the speaker; but he
continued:

"There, I am in a hurry. But ask Quin, or anybody who knows her history,
you will find she has had scores of lovers, and no one remains her
friend after they part."

"Men are such villains!"

"Very likely," was the reply; "but twenty men don't ill-use one good
woman; those are not the proportions. Adieu!"

This last hit frightened Mr. Vane, he began to look into himself; he
could not but feel that he was a mere child in this woman's hands; and,
more than that, his conscience told him that if his heart should be made
a football of it would be only a just and probable punishment. For there
were particular reasons why he, of all men, had no business to look
twice at any woman whose name was Woffington.

That night he avoided the green-room, though he could not forego the
play; but the next night he determined to stay at home altogether.
Accordingly, at five o'clock, the astounded box-keeper wore a visage of
dismay--there was no shilling for him! and Mr. Vane's nightly shilling
had assumed the sanctity of salary in his mind.

Mr. Vane strolled disconsolate; he strolled by the Thames, he strolled
up and down the Strand; and, finally, having often admired the wisdom
of moths in their gradual approach to what is not good for them, he
strolled into the green-room, Covent Garden, and sat down. When there
he did not feel happy. Besides, she had always been cold to him, and had
given no sign of desiring his acquaintance, still less of recognition.

Mr. Vane had often seen a weathercock at work, and he had heard a woman
compared to it; but he had never realized the