Another fortnight passed to the mutual satisfaction of the lovers. To Vane it was a dream of rapture to be near this great creature, whom thousands admired at such a distance; to watch over her, to take her to the theater in a warm shawl, to stand at the wing and receive her as she came radiant from her dressing-room, to watch her from her rear as she stood like some power about to descend on the stage, to see her falcon-like stoop upon the said stage, and hear the burst of applause that followed, as the report does the flash; to compare this with the spiritless crawl with which common artists went on, tame from their first note to their last; to take her hand when she came off, feel how her nerves were strung like a greyhound's after a race, and her whole frame in a high even glow, with the great Pythoness excitement of art. And to have the same great creature leaning her head on his shoulder, and listening with a charming complacency, while he purred to her of love and calm delights, alternate with still greater triumphs; for he was to turn dramatic writer, for her sake, was to write plays, a woman the hero, and love was to inspire him, and passion supply the want of pencraft. (You make me laugh, Mr. Vane!) All this was heavenly. And then with all her dash, and fire, and bravado, she was a thorough woman. “Margaret!” “Ernest!” “I want to ask you a question. Did you really cry because that Miss Bellamy had dresses from Paris?” “It does not seem very likely.” “No, but tell me; did you?” “Who said I did?” “Mr. Cibber.” “Old fool!” “Yes, but did you?” “Did I what?” “Cry!” “Ernest, the minx's dresses were beautiful.” “No doubt. But did you cry?” “And mine were dirty; I don't care about gilt rags, but dirty dresses, ugh!” “Tell me, then.” “Tell you what?” “Did you cry or not?” “Ah! he wants to find out whether I am a fool, and despise me.” “No, I think I should love you better. For hitherto I have seen no weakness in you, and it makes me uncomfortable.” “Be comforted! Is it not a weakness to like you!” “You are free from that weakness, or you would gratify my curiosity.” “Be pleased to state, in plain, intelligible English, what you require of me.” “I want to know, in one word, did you cry or not?” “Promise to tease me no more then, and I'll tell you.” “I promise.” “You won't despise me?” “Despise you! of course not.” “Well, then--I don't remember!” On another occasion they were seated in the dusk, by the side of the canal in the Park, when a little animal began to potter about on an adjacent bank. Mrs. Woffington contemplated it with curiosity and delight. “Oh, you pretty creature!” said she. “Now you are a rabbit; at least, I think so.” “No,” said Vane, innocently; “that is a rat.”