simplicity, beauty and
justice of the simile. He was therefore surprised, as well as thrilled,
when Mrs. Woffington, so cool, ceremonious and distant hitherto, walked
up to him in the green-room with a face quite wreathed in smiles, and,
without preliminary, thanked him for all the beautiful flowers he had
sent her.

"What, Mrs. Woffington--what, you recognize me?"

"Of course, and have been foolish enough to feel quite supported by the
thought I had at least one friend in the house. But," said she, looking
down, "now you must not be angry; here are some stones that have fallen
somehow among the flowers. I am going to give you them back, because I
value flowers, so I cannot have them mixed with anything else; but don't
ask me for a flower back," added she, seeing the color mount on his
face, "for I would not give one of them to you, or anybody."

Imagine the effect of this on a romantic disposition like Mr. Vane's.

He told her how glad he was that she could distinguish his features amid
the crowd of her admirers; he confessed he had been mortified when he
found himself, as he thought, entirely a stranger to her.

She interrupted him.

"Do you know your friend Sir Charles Pomander? No! I am almost sure you
do; well, he is a man I do not like. He is deceitful, besides he is a
wicked man. There, to be plain with you, he was watching me all that
night, the first time you came here, and, because I saw he was watching
me I would not know who you were, nor anything about you."

"But you looked as if you had never seen me before."

"Of course I did, when I had made up my mind to," said the actress,
naively.

"Sir Charles has left London for a fortnight, so, if he is the only
obstacle, I hope you will know me every night."

"Why, you sent me no flowers yesterday or to-day."

"But I will to-morrow."

"Then I am sure I shall know your face again; good-by. Won't you see me
in the last act, and tell me how ill I do it?"

"Oh, yes!" and he hurried to his box, and so the actress secured one
pair of hands for her last act.

He returned to the green-room, but she did not revisit that verdant
bower. The next night, after the usual compliments, she said to him,
looking down with a sweet, engaging air:

"I sent a messenger into the country to know about that lady."

"What lady?" said Vane, scarcely believing his senses.

"That you were so unkind to me about."

"I, unkind to you? what a brute I must be!"

"My meani