Peg Woffington Part 24

Left to herself, Mabel was uneasy. "Ernest is so warm-hearted." This was the way she put it even to herself. He admired her acting and wished to pay her a compliment. "What if I carried him the verses?" She thought she should surely please him by showing she was not the least jealous or doubtful of him. The poor child wanted so to win a kind look from her husband; but ere she could reach the window Sir Charles Pomander had entered it.

Now Sir Charles was naturally welcome to Mrs. Vane; for all she knew of him was, that he had helped her on the road to her husband.

_Pomander._ "What, madam! all alone here as in Shrops.h.i.+re?"

_Mabel._ "For the moment, sir."

_Pomander._ "Force of habit. A husband with a wife in Shrops.h.i.+re is so like a bachelor."

_Mabel._ "Sir!"

_Pomander._ "And our excellent Ernest is such a favorite!"

_Mabel._ "No wonder, sir!"

_Pomander._ "Few can so pa.s.s from the larva state of country squire to the b.u.t.terfly nature of beau."

_Mabel._ "Yes" (sadly), "I find him changed."

_Pomander._ "Changed! Transformed. He is now the prop of the 'Cocoa-Tree,' the star of Ranelagh, the Lauzun of the green-room."

_Mabel._ "The green-room! Where is that? You mean kindly, sir; but you make me unhappy."

_Pomander._ "The green-room, my dear madam, is the bower where houris put off their wings, and G.o.ddesses become dowdies; where Lady Macbeth weeps over her lap-dog, dead from repletion; and Belvidera soothes her broken heart with a dozen of oysters. In a word, it is the place where actors and actresses become men and women, and act their own parts with skill, instead of a poet's clumsily."

_Mabel._ "Actors! actresses! Does Mr. Vane frequent such--"

_Pomander._ "He has earned in six months a reputation many a fine gentleman would give his ears for. Not a scandalous journal his initials have not figured in; not an actress of reputation gossip has not given him for a conquest."

"How dare you say this to me?" cried Mrs. Vane, with a sudden flash of indignation, and then the tears streamed over her lovely cheeks; and even a Pomander might have forborne to torture her so; but Sir Charles had no mercy.

"You would be sure to learn it," said he; "and with malicious additions.

It is better to hear the truth from a friend."

"A friend? He is no friend to a house who calumniates the husband to the wife. Is it the part of a friend to distort dear Ernest's kindliness and gayety into ill morals; to pervert his love of poetry and plays into an unworthy attachment to actors and--oh!" and the tears would come. But she dried them, for now she hated this man; with all the little power of hatred she had, she detested him. "Do you suppose I did not know Mrs.

Woffington was to come to us to-day?" cried she, struggling pa.s.sionately against her own fears and Sir Charles's innuendoes.

"What!" cried he; "you recognized her? You detected the actress of all work under the airs of Lady Betty Modish?"

"Lady Betty Modis.h.!.+" cried Mabel. "That good, beautiful face!"

"Ah!" cried Sir Charles, "I see you did not. Well, Lady Betty was Mrs.

Woffington!"

"Whom my husband, I know, had invited here to present her with these verses, which I shall take him for her;" and her poor little lip trembled. "Had the visit been in any other character, as you are so base, so cruel as to insinuate (what have I done to you that you kill me so, you wicked gentleman?), would he have chosen the day of my arrival?"

"Not if he knew you were coming," was the cool reply.

"And he did know--I wrote to him."

"Indeed!" said Pomander, fairly puzzled.

Mrs. Vane caught sight of her handwriting on the tray, and darted to it, and seized her letter, and said, triumphantly:

"My last letter, written upon the road--see!"

Sir Charles took it with surprise, but, turning it in his hand, a cool, satirical smile came to his face. He handed it back, and said, coldly:

"Read me the pa.s.sage, madam, on which you argue."

Poor Mrs. Vane turned the letter in her hand, and her eye became instantly glazed; the seal was unbroken! She gave a sharp cry of agony, like a wounded deer. She saw Pomander no longer; she was alone with her great anguish. "I had but my husband and my G.o.d in the world," cried she. "My mother is gone. My G.o.d, have pity on me! my husband does not love me."

The cold villain was startled at the mighty storm his mean hand had raised. This creature had not only more feeling, but more pa.s.sion, than a hundred libertines. He muttered some villain's commonplaces; while this unhappy young lady raised her hands to heaven, and sobbed in a way very terrible to any manly heart.

"He is unworthy you," muttered Pomander. "He has forfeited your love. He has left you nothing but revenge. Be comforted. Let me, who have learned already to adore you--"

"So," cried she, turning on him in a moment (for, on some points, woman's instinct is the lightning of wisdom), "this, sir, was your object? I may no longer hold a place in my husband's heart; but I am mistress of his house. Leave it, sir! and never return to it while I live."

Sir Charles, again discomfited, bowed reverentially. "Your wish shall ever be respected by me, madam! But here they come. Use the right of a wife. Conceal yourself in that high chair. See, I turn it; so that they cannot see you. At least you will find I have but told you the truth."

"No!" cried Mabel, violently. "I will not spy upon my husband at the dictation of his treacherous friend."

Sir Charles vanished. He was no sooner gone than Mrs. Vane crouched, trembling, and writhing with jealousy, in the large, high-backed chair.

She heard her husband and the _soi-disant_ Lady Betty Modish enter.

During their absence, Mrs. Woffington had doubtless been playing her cards with art; for it appeared that a reconciliation was now taking place. The lady, however, was still cool and distant. It was poor Mabel's fate to hear these words: "You must permit me to go alone, Mr.

Vane. I insist upon leaving this house alone."

On this, he whispered to her.

She answered: "You are not justified."

"I can explain all," was his reply. "I am ready to renounce credit, character, all the world for you."

They pa.s.sed out of the room before the unhappy listener could recover the numbing influence of these deadly words.

But the next moment she started wildly up, and cried as one drowning cries vaguely for help: "Ernest! oh, no--no! you cannot use me so!

Ernest--husband! Oh, mother! mother!"

She rose, and would have made for the door, but nature had been too cruelly tried. At the first step she could no longer see anything; and the next moment, swooning dead away, she fell back insensible, with her head and shoulders resting on the chair.

CHAPTER XII.

MR. VANE was putting Mrs. Woffington into her chair, when he thought he heard his name cried. He bade that lady a mournful farewell, and stepped back into his own hall. He had no sooner done so than he heard a voice, the accent of which alarmed him, though he distinguished no word. He hastily crossed the hall and flew into the banquet-room. Coming rapidly in at the folding-doors he almost fell over his wife, lying insensible half upon the floor and half upon the chair. When he saw her pale and motionless, a terrible misgiving seized him; he fell on his knees.

"Mabel, Mabel!" cried he, "my love! my innocent wife! Oh, G.o.d! what have I done? Perhaps it is the fatigue--perhaps she has fainted."