"Pomander!" cried Vane, in great heat; then, checking himself, he said
coolly: "but you all know Pomander."
"None of you," replied that gentleman. "Bring a chair, sir," said he,
authoritatively, to a servant; who, of course, obeyed.
Mrs. Clive looked at him, and thought: "There is something in this!"
"It is for the lady," said he, coolly. Then, leaning over the table, he
said to Mrs. Woffington, with an impudent affectation of friendly
understanding: "I ran her to earth in this house not ten minutes ago. Of
course I don't know who she is! But," smacking his lips, "a rustic
Amaryllis, breathing all May-buds and Meadowsweet."
"Have her out, Peggy!" shouted Cibber. "I know the run--there's the
covert! Hark, forward! Ha, ha, ha!"
Mr. Vane rose, and, with a sternness that brought the old beau up with a
run, he said: "Mr. Cibber, age and infirmity are privileged; but for you,
Sir Charles--"
"Don't be angry," interposed Mrs. Woffington, whose terror was lest he
should quarrel with so practiced a swordsman. "Don't you see it is a
jest! and, as might be expected from poor Sir Charles, a very sorry one.
"A jest!" said Vane, white with rage. "Let it go no further, or it will
be earnest!"
Mrs. Woffington placed her hand on his shoulder, and at that touch he
instantly yielded, and sat down.
It was at this moment, when Sir Charles found himself for the present
baffled--for he could no longer press his point, and search that room;
when the attention of all was drawn to a dispute, which, for a moment,
had looked like a quarrel; while Mrs.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151