Your husband is the only man in London who does not
see through her. How different are you! Even I, who have no taste for
actresses, found myself revived, refreshed, ameliorated by that engaging
picture of innocence and virtue you drew this morning; yourself the
bright and central figure. Ah, dear angel! I remember all your favorites,
and envy them their place in your recollections. Your Barbary mare--"
"Hen, sir!
"Of course I meant hen; and Gray Gillian, his old nurse--"
"No, no, no! she is the mare, sir. He! he! he!"
"So she is. And Dame--Dame--"
"Best!"
"Ah! I knew it. You see how I remember them all. And all carry me back to
those innocent days which fleet too soon--days when an angel like you
might have weaned me from the wicked pleasures of the town, to the placid
delights of a rural existence!"
"Alas, sir!"
"You sigh. It is not yet too late. I am a convert to you; I swear it on
this white hand. Ah! how can I relinquish it, pretty fluttering
prisoner?"
"Oh, please--"
"Stay a while."
"No! please, sir--"
"While I fetter thee with a worthy manacle." Sir Charles slipped a
diamond ring of great value upon his pretty prisoner.
"La, sir, how pretty!" cried innocence.
Sir Charles then undertook to prove that the luster of the ring was
faint, compared with that of the present wearer's eyes. This did not suit
innocence; she hung her head and fluttered, and showed a bashful
repugnance to look her admirer in the face.
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