MABEL. With my life! WOFF. And will you let me call you friend? MABEL. Friend! no--not friend! WOFF. Alas! MABEL. Let me call you sister? I have no sister! (_timidly and pleadingly_) WOFF. Sister! oh, yes! call me sister! (_they embrace_) You do not know what it is to me, whom the proud ones of the world pass by with averted looks, to hear that sacred name from lips as pure as yours. Let me hold you in my arms--so--a little while--if you knew the good it does me to feel your heart beating close to mine--(_pause_); and now to bring back this truant--how this heart flutters--you must compose yourself (_goes to door leading to inner room and opens it_). And I have need to be alone awhile (_puts her in, comes forward and sits a moment with her hands pressed over her forehead_). 'Twas a terrible wrench--but 'tis over; and now--"about my brains" as Hamlet says--to bring back the husband to his duty--what a strange office for a woman like me! How little the world knows about us after all (_she sighs and sobs convulsively_). I ought to feel very happy--pshaw! On with the mask and spangles, Peggy--and away with the fumes of this pleasant day-dream--how to bring Pomander hither? Let me see--this paper (_takes paper Mabel sent up_) signed in her hand; Mabel Vane--what if by its aid--I have it--pen--ink--one never can find writing materials in an author's room (_goes to door and calls_). Triplet! (_enter Triplet from inner room_). Pens and ink--quick! TRIP. (_gets them, looking at her_). Here, madam--and paper? WOFF. No, I have that here (_she writes--he watches her_). TRIP. Her eyes are red--and Mrs. Vane all of a flutter inside. There's been a storm--but they haven't torn each other in pieces, that's one comfort. But has she relented, I wonder? WOFF. Triplet! This note to Sir Charles Pomander. TRIP. Madam (_takes it_). What is it, I wonder? However, 'tis not my business (_going--pauses_). But it is my business--I'm not a postman--if I carry letters I ought to know the contents (_returns_). Madam-- WOFF. Well! TRIP. Madam--I--I-- WOFF. I see--you wish to know the contents of that letter--hear them: "Follow the bearer." TRIP. Madam! WOFF. (_reads_). I am here without my husband's knowledge. TRIP. Mrs. Woffington! WOFF. (_reads_). Alone and unprotected--signed "Mabel Vane." TRIP. Her own signature too! Mrs. Woffington--you are a great actress--you have been cruelly wronged--you have saved me from despair, and my children from starvation; but before I will carry that letter, I will have my hands hacked off at the wrists. WOFF. (_aside_). What a good creature this is. Then you refuse to obey my orders. TRIP. No! no! ask me to jump out of that window--to burn my favourite tragedy--to forswear pen and ink for ever--anything but carry that letter, and I will do it. WOFF. Well--leave the letter! (_Triplet runs for his hat_) Where are you going?