'You are persistent, Sir. Why should I tell you? Well, I will confess. This man protested a great deal less than the others. He was a noble Lord, if that matters. He was quite different from all the rest: he never came to the Green Room drunk: he never cursed and swore: he never shook his cane in the face of footman or chairman: he was a gentle creature--and he loved me and would have married me: well--I told him who and what I was--I will tell you presently--that mattered nothing. He would carry me away from them all. I would have married him, Will: and we should have been happy: but his sister came to see me and she went on her knees crying and imploring me to refuse him because in the history of their family there had never been any such alliance as that with an actress of no family. Would I bring disgrace into a noble family? If I refused, he would forget me, and she would do all in her power for me, if ever I wanted a friend. It was for his sake--if I loved him I would not injure him. And so she went on: and she persuaded me, Will--because, you see, when people pride themselves about their families it is a pity to bring the gutter into it--with Newgate and Tyburn, isn't it?' 'Jenny, what has Newgate got to do with it?' 'Wait and I will tell you. I gave way. It cost me a great deal, Will--more than you would believe--because I had never loved anyone before--and when a woman does love a man----' The tears rose in her eyes,--'and then it was that your cousin came to the Theatre.' Poor Jenny! And she always seemed so cheerful, so lively, so happy! Her face might have been drawn to illustrate Milton's 'L'Allegra.' How could she look so happy when she had this unhappy love story and this unhappy marriage to think upon?' 'Will,' she cried passionately, 'I am the most unhappy woman in the world.' I made no reply. Indeed I knew not what there was to say. Matthew was a villain: there can be few worse villains: Jenny was in truth a most injured and a most unhappy woman. It was growing twilight. What followed was told, or most of it, because I have set down the result of two or three conversations in one, by the light of the fire, in a low voice, a low musical voice--that seemed to rob the naked truth of much of its horrors.