“Do n't be a little fool,” she wrote. “Are you so anxious to undo all that we have done between us? If you pursue that course, I swear to you that he will be at my feet the next day. No, dear child, leave me to tell him all that there is to be told.” Two days afterwards Lee Lewis said to her: “I wonder if 't is true that my wife has an admirer.” “Why should it not be true, sir? Everything that is admirable has an admirer,” said Mrs. Abington. “She is not quite the same as she used to be,” said he. “I half suspect that she has something on her mind. Can it be possible that--” “Psha, sir, why not put her to the test?” cried Mrs. Abington. “The test? How?” “Why, sir, give her a chance of going again to the Gardens. Tell her that you are going to the playhouse on Thursday night, and then do as you did before, only keep a better look-out for her, and--well you must promise me that if you find her with that handsome young spark you will not run him through the body.” “You seem to take a great interest in this same young spark,” said Lewis. “And so I do, sir! Lord, sir, are you jealous of me as well as your wife?” “Jealous? By my soul, madam, I desire nothing more heartily than to hear of your taking him from my wife.” “Then carry out my plan, and perhaps I shall be able to oblige you. Put her to the test on Thursday.” “You will be there?” “I will be there, I promise you.” “Then I agree.” “You promise further not to run him through the body?” “I promise. Yes, you will have more than a corpse to console you.” He walked off looking somewhat glum, and in another half hour she had sent a letter to his wife asking her to be dressed for Vauxhall on Thursday night. The Gardens were flooded with light--except in certain occasional nooks--and with music everywhere. (It is scarcely necessary to say that the few dimly-lighted nooks were the most popular in the Gardens.) As Mrs. Lewis, accompanied by her dashing escort, descended from the coach and walked up the long avenue toward the tea-house, many eyes were focussed upon her, for all the town seemed to be at Vauxhall that night. But only the quick eyes of Mrs. Abington perceived the face of Lee Lewis at the outskirts of the crowd. Mrs. Abington smiled; she knew perfectly well that her disguise was so complete as to remain impenetrable, even to her most familiar friends, and she had a voice to suit the costume of the beau, so that, upon previous occasions, she had, when in a similar dress, escaped all recognition, even at one of the balls at the little playhouse in the Haymarket.