“Hush, child,” she cried. “Let me ask him if he never implored that woman, Abington, to accompany him to Vauxhall while he told you he was going to the playhouse? Let me ask him how often he has whiled away the hours in Mrs. Abington's house, assuring his wife that he was detained at the play-house. He is silent, you perceive. That means that he has still a remnant of what once was a conscience. Mr. Lewis, were it light enough to see you, I am sure that we should find that you were hanging your head. What! are you surprised that any one should admire the wife whom you neglected? You are enraged because you saw me by her side at the Gardens. You have played the spy on us, sir, and in doing so you have played the fool, and you will acknowledge it and ask your wife's pardon and mine before five minutes have passed. Call for a light, sir; we do not expect you to apologise in the dark.” “The fellow's impudence astounds me,” muttered Lewis. He then threw open the door and shouted down the stairs for a light. Mrs. Lewis, while the light was being brought, made another attempt to explain matters, but Mrs. Abington commanded her to be silent. “Everything will be explained when the light comes,” said she. “Yes,” said the man, grimly, “for men cannot cross swords in the dark.” “There will be no crossing swords here,” said Mrs. Abington. “Coward--Scoundrel! Now we shall see what you are made of,” said the man, as a servant appeared on the landing with a lighted lamp. “Yes; that's just what you will see,” said Mrs. Abington in her natural voice, as the light flooded the room. “Great powers!” whispered Lewis, as he found himself confronted by the fascinating face that he knew so well. Mrs. Abington had thrown off her wig in the darkness, and now her own hair was flowing over her shoulders. “Great powers! Mrs. Abington!” “Yes, Mr. Lewis, Mrs. Abington, who only waits to hear a very foolish fellow confess that he has been a fool in letting a thought of any other woman come into his mind, when he is the husband of so charming a lady as took supper with me to-night.” Lee Lewis bowed his head, and, kneeling before his wife, pressed her hand to his lips. THE CAPTURE OF THE DUKE I As all hearts are captivated by the most charming Mistress Barry, so it is my hope that all souls will be captivated by her picture,” cried Sir Godfrey, bowing low between his palette which he held in one hand and his sheaf of brushes which he held in the other. His pronunciation of the word charming--he said “sharmink”--had a suggestion of his native Lübeck about it; but his courtliness was beyond suspicion. None of his distinguished sitters could complain of his having failed to represent them on his canvases with dignity and refinement, whatever their candid friends might think of the accuracy of the portraitures.