“I will commit no violence,” said Vane. “I still hope she is innocent.”
Pomander smiled, and said he hoped so too.
“And if she is what you think, I will but show her she is known, and, blaming myself as much as her—oh yes! more than her!—I will go down this night to Shropshire, and never speak word to her again in this world or the next.”
“Good,” said Sir Charles.
“'Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte est pour le sot,
L'honndete homine trompe s'eloigne et ne dit mot.'
Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Then follow me.”
Turning the handle gently, he opened the door like lightning, and was in the room. Vane's head peered over his shoulder. She was actually there!
For once in her life, the cautious, artful woman was taken by surprise. She gave a little scream, and turned as red as fire. But Sir Charles surprised somebody else even more than he did poor Mrs. Woffington.