Jarvis grinned in sickly fashion and swore by all that was unholy to
carry out his orders strictly. Rofflash then strode away.

How Jarvis contrived to lure Vane to Spring Gardens is not of much
consequence. The fellow had a soft, slimy tongue and an oily manner.
Moreover, Rofflash's shrewd guess at Vane's absence of will power after
a drinking bout was verified to the letter.

The passage up the river from St. Paul's Stairs was pleasant enough. The
wherry made its way through a crowd of boats bound for the Gardens,
though the season had hardly begun. Not a few of the craft had for their
passengers fashionable ladies masked and unmasked, with their cavaliers
more or less noisy with wine. Numberless and not particularly refined
were the jests exchanged between the occupants of the various boats.
Sometimes the watermen struck in and masters of slang and coarse wit as
they were, and possessed of infinite impudence, the journey was marked
by plenty of liveliness.

Well did Spring Gardens--afterwards known as Vauxhall, or Fauxhall,
years later--deserve the patronage bestowed upon them. Delightful
groves, cosy little arbours, lawns like velvet, rippling fountains were
among its attractions, music albeit it was confined to the limited
instruments of the day--singing came about afterwards--aided the
enchantment.

A dose of hot brandy and water before starting had renewed Vane's
drooping spirits and had dissipated his headache and nausea. A glass of
punch prescribed by Jarvis when inside the Gardens sent him into a mood
of recklessness which made him ready for any adventure amorous or
otherwise. He looked upon Lavinia as lost to him. He would like to kill
his remembrance of her. What better way than by thoughts of some other
woman? His brain had become so bemused by his potations of the previous
night that he had at first only vague recollections of Sally Salisbury
and how he had engaged to meet her. But now that he was in the Gardens
association of ideas brought her handsome, enticing face to his mind.
She would do as well as another to entertain him for the moment, and his
eyes roved restlessly towards every woman he passed.

The orchestra was playing a dance tune, and Vane eagerly scanned the
dancers, but saw no woman resembling Sally Salisbury. Meanwhile Jarvis
had left him with a parting drink, which by no means helped to clear his
muddled brain. Then suddenly Sally stood before him, unmasked and
looking more fascina