At this moment a figure looked in upon them from the garden, but retreated unobserved. It was Sir Charles Pomander, who had slipped away, with the heartless and malicious intention of exposing the husband to the wife, and profiting by her indignation and despair. Seeing Triplet, he made an extemporaneous calculation that so infernal a chatterbox could not be ten minutes in her company without telling her everything, and this would serve his turn very well. He therefore postponed his purpose, and strolled away to a short distance. Triplet justified the baronet's opinion. Without any sort of sequency he now informed Mrs. Vane that the benevolent lady was to sit to him for her portrait. Here was a new attention of Ernest's. How good he was, and how wicked and ungrateful she! “What! are you a painter too?” she inquired. “From a house front to an historical composition, madam.” “Oh, what a clever man! And so Ernest commissioned you to paint a portrait?” “No, madam; for that I am indebted to the lady herself.” “The lady herself?” “Yes, madam; and I expected to find her here. Will you add to your kindness by informing me whether she has arrived? Or she is gone--” “Who, sir? (Oh, dear! not my portrait! Oh, Ernest!)” “Who, madam!” cried Triplet; “why, Mrs. Woffington!” “She is not here,” said Mrs. Vane, who remembered all the names perfectly well. “There is one charming lady among our guests, her face took me in a moment; but she is a titled lady. There is no Mrs. Woffington among them.” “Strange!” replied Triplet; “she was to be here; and, in fact, that is why I expedited these lines in her honor.” “In _her_ honor, sir?” “Yes, madam. Allow me: 'Brights being, thou whose radiant brow--'” “No! no! I don't care to hear them now, for I don't know the lady.” “Well, madam, but at least you have seen her act?” “Act! you don't mean all this is for an actress?” _“An_ actress? _The_ actress! And you have never seen her act? What a pleasure you have to come! To see her act is a privilege; but to act with her, as _I_ once did! But she does not remember that, nor shall I remind her, madam,” said Triplet sternly. “On that occasion I was hissed, owing to circumstances which, for the credit of our common nature, I suppress.” “What! are you an actor too? You are everything.” “And it was in a farce of my own, madam, which, by the strangest combination of accidents, was damned!” “A play-writer? Oh, what clever men there are in the world--in London, at least! He is a play-writer, too. I wonder my husband comes not. Does Mr. Vane--does Mr. Vane admire this actress?” said she, suddenly. “Mr. Vane, madam, is a gentleman of taste,” said he, pompously. “Well, sir,” said the lady, languidly, “she is not here.” Triplet took the hint and rose. “Good-by,” said she, sweetly; and thank you kindly for your company.