They had reached the stage door by this time, and were standing together in the long passage when a tall and good-looking man was admitted, enquiring for Miss Hoppner. Peggy did not fail to notice the brightening of the color of her companion as the gentleman advanced and took off his hat with a low bow. It was with a certain proprietary air that Miss Hoppner presented him to Peggy, by the name of Captain Joycelyn, of the Royal Scots. “Captain Joycelyn is one of your warmest admirers, Mrs. Woffington,” said Miss Hoppner. “Sir, I am overwhelmed,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a deep courtesy. “Nay, madam, I am your servant, I swear,” said the gentleman. “I have often longed for this honor, but it ever seemed out of my reach. We of the Royal Scots consider ourselves no mean judges of your art, and we agree that the playhouse without Mrs. Woffington would be lusterless.” “Ah, sir, you would still have Mrs. Clive,” suggested Peggy. “Mrs. Clive? You can afford to be generous, madam,” laughed Captain Joycelyn. “She is the most generous woman alive,” said Miss Hoppner. “She will prove herself such if she converses with you here for five minutes. I was going away forgetting that I had to talk to the wardrobe mistress about my turban. I shall not be more than five minutes away.” “I protest it makes no demand upon my generosity to remain to listen to so agreeable a critic, though I admit that I do so with a certain tremor, sir,” said Peggy, with a charming assumption of the fluttered miss. “A certain tremor? Why should you have a tremor, dear madam?” said the officer. “Ah,'t is the talk of the town that all hearts go down before the Royal Scots, as the King's enemies did in the Low Countries.” “An idle rumour, madam, I do assure you.” “I might have thought so up till now; but now I think I would do wisely to retreat in order, Captain, while there is yet time.” She looked up at his face with a smile of matchless coquetry. “Nay, madam, you shall not stir,” said he, laughing. “'T is not the conqueror that should retreat. I am too conscientious a soldier to permit so gross a violation of the art of war. Seriously, why should you fly?” “I am a poor strategist, but I have a sense of danger. Is Miss Hoppner a special friend of yours, sir?” “A special friend? Well, we have been acquaintances for nigh half a year.” “I thought I had seen her by your side at Ranelagh. She looked very happy. I dare say I should be ashamed to confess it, but I envied her.” Peggy's eyes were turned upon the ground with a demureness that represented the finest art of the coquette. “You--you envied her?” cried the officer. “How humble must be your aspirations, sweet creature! If I should not be thought to be over-bold I would offer--ah! I fear that so brief an acquaintanceship as ours does not warrant my presumption--” “And yet you do not look like one who would be likely to give offense by overpresumption, sir.”