" He
had no sooner read these words, than he found he loved his wife; when he
tampered with his treasure, he did not calculate on another seeking it.
This was Pomander's hour of triumph! He proceeded coolly to explain to
Mr. Vane, that, Mrs. Woffington having deserted him for Mr. Vane, and Mr.
Vane his wife for Mrs. Woffington, the bereaved parties had, according to
custom, agreed to console each other.
This soothing little speech was interrupted by Mr. Vane's sword flashing
suddenly out of its sheath; while that gentleman, white with rage and
jealousy, bade him instantly take to his guard, or be run through the
body like some noxious animal.
Sir Charles drew his sword, and, in spite of Triplet's weak interference,
half a dozen passes were rapidly exchanged, when suddenly the door of the
inner room opened, and a lady in a hood pronounced, in a voice which was
an excellent imitation of Mrs. Vane's, the word, "False!"
The combatants lowered their points.
"You hear, sir!" cried Triplet.
"You see, sir!" said Pomander.
"Mabel! -- wife!" cried Mr. Vane, in agony. "Oh, say this is not true!
Oh, say that letter is a forgery! Say, at least, it was by some treachery
you were lured to this den of iniquity! Oh, speak!"
The lady silently beckoned to some person inside.
"You know I loved you--you know how bitterly I repent the infatuation
that brought me to the feet of another!"
The lady replied not, though Vane's soul appeared to hang upon her
answer.
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