Woffington's hand still lingered,
as only a woman's hand can linger in leaving the shoulder of the man she
loves; it was at this moment the door opened of its own accord, and a
most beautiful woman stood, with a light step, upon the threshold!
Nobody's back was to her, except Mr. Vane's. Every eye but his was
spellbound upon her.
Mrs. Woffington withdrew her hand, as if a scorpion had touched her.
A stupor of astonishment fell on them all.
Mr. Vane, seeing the direction of all their eyes, slewed himself round in
his chair into a most awkward position, and when he saw the lady, he was
utterly dumfounded! But she, as soon as he turned his face her way,
glided up to him, with a little half-sigh, half-cry of joy, and taking
him round the neck, kissed him deliciously, while every eye at the table
met every other eye in turn. One or two of the men rose; for the lady's
beauty was as worthy of homage as her appearing was marvelous.
Mrs. Woffington, too astonished for emotion to take any definite shape,
said, in what seemed an ordinary tone: "Who is this lady?"
"I am his wife, madam," said Mabel, in the voice of a skylark, and
smiling friendly on the questioner.
"It is my wife!" said Vane, like a speaking-machine; he was scarcely in a
conscious state. "It is my wife!" he repeated, mechanically.
The words were no sooner out of Mabel's mouth than two servants, who had
never heard of Mrs.
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