She begged him, calmly, for his
own sake, to distrust false friends, and judge her by his own heart,
eyes, and judgment. He promised her he would.
"And I do trust you, in spite of them all," said he; "for your face is
the shrine of sincerity and candor. I alone know you.
Then she prayed him to observe the heartlessness of his sex, and to say
whether she had done ill to hide the riches of her heart from the cold
and shallow, and to keep them all for one honest man, "who will be my
friend, I hope," said she, "as well as my lover."
"Ah!" said Vane, "that is my ambition."
"We actresses," said she, "make good the old proverb, 'Many lovers, but
few friends.' And oh, 'tis we who need a friend. Will you be mine?"
While he lived, he would.
In turn, he begged her to be generous, and tell him the way for him,
Ernest Vane, inferior in wit and address to many of her admirers, to win
her heart from them all.
This singular woman's answer is, I think, worth attention.
"Never act in my presence; never try to be eloquent, or clever; never
force a sentiment, or turn a phrase. Remember, I am the goddess of
tricks. Do not descend to competition with me and the Pomanders of the
world. At all littlenesses, you will ever be awkward in my eyes. And I am
a woman. I must have a superior to love--lie open to my eye. Light itself
is not more beautiful than the upright man, whose bosom is open to the
day.
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