Sir Charles looked into the banquet-room; the haunch was being placed on the table. He returned with the information. He burned to bring husband and wife together; he counted each second lost that postponed this (to him) thrilling joy. Oh, how happy he was!--happier than the serpent when he saw Eve's white teeth really strike into the apple!
"Shall we pay respect to this haunch, Mr. Quin?" said Vane, gayly.
"If you please, sir," said Quin, gravely. Colander ran down a by-path with an immense bouquet, which he arranged for Mrs. Woffington in a vase at Mr. Vane's left hand. He then threw open the windows, which were on the French plan, and shut within a foot of the lawn.
The musicians in the arbor struck up, and the company, led by Mr. Vane and Mrs. Woffington, entered the room. And a charming room it was!--light, lofty, and large--adorned in the French way with white and gold. The table was an exact oval, and at it everybody could hear what any one said; an excellent arrangement where ideaed guests only are admitted-- which is another excellent arrangement, though I see people don't think so.
The repast was luxurious and elegant. There was no profusion of unmeaning dishes; each was a _bonne-bouche_--an undeniable delicacy. The glass was beautiful, the plates silver. The flowers rose like walls from the table; the plate massive and glorious; rose-water in the hand-glasses; music crept in from the garden, deliciously subdued into what seemed a natural sound. A broad stream of southern sun gushed in fiery gold through the open window, and, like a red-hot rainbow, danced through the stained glass above it. Existence was a thing to bask in--in such a place, and so happy an hour!
The guests were Quin, Mrs. Clive, Mr. Cibber, Sir Charles Pomander, Mrs.
Woffington, and Messrs. Soaper and Snarl, critics of the day. This pair, with wonderful sagacity, had arrived from the street as the haunch came from the kitchen. Good-humor reigned; some cuts passed, but as the parties professed wit, they gave and took.
Quin carved the haunch, and was happy; Soaper and Snarl eating the same, and drinking Toquay, were mellowed and mitigated into human flesh. Mr. Vane and Mrs. Woffington were happy; he, because his conscience was asleep; and she, because she felt nothing now could shake her hold of him. Sir Charles was in a sort of mental chuckle. His head burned, his bones ached; but he was in a sort of nervous delight.
"Where is she?" thought he. "What will she do? Will she send her maid with a note? How blue he will look! Or will she come herself? She is a country wife; there must be a scene. Oh, why doesn't she come into this room? She must know we are here! is she watching somewhere?" His brain became puzzled, and his senses were sharpened to a point; he was all eye, ear and expectation; and this was why he was the only one to hear a very slight sound behind the door we have mentioned, and next to perceive a lady's glove lying close to that door. Mabel had dropped it in her retreat. Putting this and that together, he was led to hope and believe she was there, ****** her toilet, perhaps, and her arrival at present unknown.
"Do you expect no one else?" said he, with feigned carelessness, to Mr. Vane.
"No," said Mr. Vane, with real carelessness.
"It must be so! What fortune!" thought Pomander.
_Soaper._ "Mr. Cibber looks no older than he did five years ago."
_Snarl._ "There was no room on his face for a fresh wrinkle."
_Soaper._ "He! he! Nay, Mr. Snarl: Mr. Cibber is like old port; the more ancient he grows, the more delicious his perfume."
_Snarl._ "And the crustier he gets."
_Clive._ "Mr. Vane, you should always separate those two. Snarl, by himself, is just supportable; but, when Soaper paves the way with his hypocritical praise, the pair are too much; they are a two-edged sword."
_Woffington._ "Wanting nothing but polish and point."
_Vane._ "Gentlemen, we abandon your neighbor, Mr. Quin, to you."
_Quin._ "They know better. If they don't keep a civil tongue in their heads, no fat goes from here to them."
_Cibber._ "Ah, Mr. Vane; this room is delightful; but it makes me sad. I knew this house in Lord Longueville's time; an unrivaled gallant, Peggy.
You may just remember him, Sir Charles?"
_Pomander_ (with his eye on a certain door). "Yes, yes; a gouty old fellow."
Cibber fired up. "I wish you may ever be like him. Oh, the beauty, the wit, the _petits-soupers_ that used to be here! Longueville was a great creature, Mr. Vane. I have known him entertain a fine lady in this room, while her rival was fretting and fuming on the other side of that door."
"Ah, indeed!" said Sir Charles.
"More shame for him," said Mr. Vane.