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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Peg Woffington"

Vane felt what a poor creature he was, and his face showed
such burning shame and contrition, that he obtained his pardon without
speaking.
"There," said she, kindly, "do not let us torment one another. I forgive
you. Let me make you happy, Ernest. Is that a great favor to ask? I can
make you happier than your brightest dream of happiness, if you will let
yourself be happy."
They rejoined the others; but Vane turned his back on Pomander, and would
not look at him.
"Sir Charles," said Mrs. Woffington gayly; for she scorned to admit the
fine gentleman to the rank of a permanent enemy, "you will be of our
party, I trust, at dinner?"
"Why, no, madam; I fear I cannot give myself that pleasure to-day." Sir
Charles did not choose to swell the triumph. "Mr. Vane, good day!" said
he, rather dryly. "Mr. Triplet--madam--your most obedient!" and,
self-possessed at top, but at bottom crestfallen, he bowed himself away.
Sir Charles, however, on descending the stair and gaining the street,
caught sight of a horseman, riding uncertainly about, and making his
horse curvet, to attract attention.
He soon recognized one of his own horses, and upon it the servant he had
left behind to dog that poor innocent country lady. The servant sprang
off his horse and touched his hat. He informed his master that he had
kept with the carriage until ten o'clock this morning, when he had ridden
away from it at Barnet, having duly pumped the servants as opportunity
offered.


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