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He sat between two European beauties, and, pale and red by turns, shunned the eyes of both, and looked down at his plate in a cold sweat of humiliation, mortification and shame. The iron passed through Mrs. Woffington's soul. So! this was a villain, too, the greatest villain of all a hypocrite!
But she had one feature more remarkable than all, her eyebrows the actor's feature; they were jet black, strongly marked, and in repose were arched like a rainbow; but it was their extraordinary flexibility which made other faces upon the stage look sleepy beside Margaret Woffington's.
Drat the woman," continued he, half ashamed of his emotion; "she makes us laugh, and makes us cry, just as she used." "What does he say, young woman?" said the old lady, dryly, to Mrs. Clive. "He says you make us laugh, and make us cry, madam; and so you do me, I'm sure." "And that's Peg Woffington's notion of an actress!
Play something to make me lose sight of saucy Peg Woffington, and I'll give the world five acts more before the curtain falls on Colley Cibber." "If you could be deceived," put in Mr. Vane, somewhat timidly; "I think there is no disguise through which grace and beauty such as Mrs. Woffington's would not shine, to my eyes."
"I think it a very pretty face; and not at all like Peg Woffington's." "Compare paint with paint," said Quin. "Are you sure you ever saw down to Peggy's real face?" Triplet had seen with alarm that Mr. Snarl spoke not; many satirical expressions crossed his face, but he said nothing. Triplet gathered from this that he had at once detected the trick.
But diplomacy did more in this case, it sapienter descendebat in fossam; it fell on its nose with gymnastic dexterity, as it generally does, upon my word. To watch Mrs. Woffington's face vis-a-vis Mr. Vane, Pomander introduced Vane to the green-room of the Theater Royal, Covent Garden. By this Pomander learned nothing, because Mrs.
Woffington's lover called him to serious account finding it was not her intention to make mischief, and not choosing to publish his own defeat, dropped quietly into his old line, and determined to keep the lovers in sight, and play for revenge. He smiled and said: "My good sir, nobody can hope to monopolize Mrs. Woffington. She has others to do justice to besides you." To his surprise, Mr.
Woffington's hand still lingered, as only a woman's hand can linger in leaving the shoulder of the man she loves; it was at this moment the door opened of its own accord, and a most beautiful woman stood, with a light step, upon the threshold! Nobody's back was to her, except Mr. Vane's. Every eye but his was spellbound upon her. Mrs. Woffington withdrew her hand, as if a scorpion had touched her.
Woffington's fortitude had well-nigh left her at this. "Mabel," he cried, "is this humiliation any punishment for my folly? any guaranty for my repentance? Can you forgive me?" "It is all forgiven, Ernest. But, oh, you are mistaken." She glided to Mrs. Woffington. "What do we not owe you, sister?" whispered she. "Nothing! that word pays all," was the reply. She then slipped her address into Mrs.
Away flew Triplet, all unconscious that he was not Mrs. Woffington's opponent, but puppet. He ran, he tore, animated by a good action, and spurred by the notion that he was in direct competition with the fiend for the possession of his benefactress. He had no sooner turned the corner than Mrs. Woffington, looking out of the window, observed Sir Charles Pomander on the watch, as she had expected.
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