"You're a damned liar and an ingrained rogue by nature, Tom Jarvis, but I'll have to trust you for once. Here's half a guinea. It should more than pay for the wine and the wherry to Spring Gardens. Keep faith with me, you rascal, or I'll half wring your head from your shoulders and give you a free taste of what's bound to come to you some day--the rope at Tyburn." Jarvis grinned in sickly fashion and swore by all that was unholy to carry out his orders strictly. Rofflash then strode away. How Jarvis contrived to lure Vane to Spring Gardens is not of much consequence. The fellow had a soft, slimy tongue and an oily manner. Moreover, Rofflash's shrewd guess at Vane's absence of will power after a drinking bout was verified to the letter. The passage up the river from St. Paul's Stairs was pleasant enough. The wherry made its way through a crowd of boats bound for the Gardens, though the season had hardly begun. Not a few of the craft had for their passengers fashionable ladies masked and unmasked, with their cavaliers more or less noisy with wine. Numberless and not particularly refined were the jests exchanged between the occupants of the various boats. Sometimes the watermen struck in and masters of slang and coarse wit as they were, and possessed of infinite impudence, the journey was marked by plenty of liveliness. Well did Spring Gardens--afterwards known as Vauxhall, or Fauxhall, years later--deserve the patronage bestowed upon them. Delightful groves, cosy little arbours, lawns like velvet, rippling fountains were among its attractions, music albeit it was confined to the limited instruments of the day--singing came about afterwards--aided the enchantment. A dose of hot brandy and water before starting had renewed Vane's drooping spirits and had dissipated his headache and nausea. A glass of punch prescribed by Jarvis when inside the Gardens sent him into a mood of recklessness which made him ready for any adventure amorous or otherwise. He looked upon Lavinia as lost to him. He would like to kill his remembrance of her. What better way than by thoughts of some other woman? His brain had become so bemused by his potations of the previous night that he had at first only vague recollections of Sally Salisbury and how he had engaged to meet her. But now that he was in the Gardens association of ideas brought her handsome, enticing face to his mind. She would do as well as another to entertain him for the moment, and his eyes roved restlessly towards every woman he passed. The orchestra was playing a dance tune, and Vane eagerly scanned the dancers, but saw no woman resembling Sally Salisbury. Meanwhile Jarvis had left him with a parting drink, which by no means helped to clear his muddled brain. Then suddenly Sally stood before him, unmasked and looking more fascinating than ever.