He walked off looking somewhat glum, and in another half hour she had sent a letter to his wife asking her to be dressed for Vauxhall on Thursday night.
The Gardens were flooded with light—except in certain occasional nooks—and with music everywhere. (It is scarcely necessary to say that the few dimly-lighted nooks were the most popular in the Gardens.)
As Mrs. Lewis, accompanied by her dashing escort, descended from the coach and walked up the long avenue toward the tea-house, many eyes were focussed upon her, for all the town seemed to be at Vauxhall that night. But only the quick eyes of Mrs. Abington perceived the face of Lee Lewis at the outskirts of the crowd. Mrs. Abington smiled; she knew perfectly well that her disguise was so complete as to remain impenetrable, even to her most familiar friends, and she had a voice to suit the costume of the beau, so that, upon previous occasions, she had, when in a similar dress, escaped all recognition, even at one of the balls at the little playhouse in the Haymarket.
She now swaggered through the crowds, rallying, after the most approved style of the modish young spark, her somewhat timid companion, and pointing out to her the various celebrities who were strolling about under the coloured lamps. She pointed out the lively little lady, who was clearly delighted at being the centre of a circle of admirers, as Mrs. Thrale, the wife of the great brewer. Around her were General Paoli, the Corsican refugee; the great Dr. Samuel Johnson; Dr. Burney, the musician; and Richard Burke, just home from Grenada.
Some distance further on stood Oliver Goldsmith, the author of the new comedy, in which Lee Lewis was cast for the part of Young Marlow, and Mrs. Abington for the part of Miss Hardcastle. Dr. Goldsmith wore a peach-bloom velvet coat and a waistcoat covered with silver. He was making the beautiful Miss Horneck and her sister, Mrs. Bunbury, laugh heartily at some of his witty sayings, which were too subtle to be understood by such people as James Boswell and Miss Reynolds, but which were thoroughly relished by the two girls who loved him so well. In another part of the grounds, Sir Joshua Reynolds walked with his friend David Garrick; and when she caught sight of the latter, Mrs. Abington hurried her companion down a side walk, saying:
“David Garrick is the only one in the Gardens whom I fear; he would see through my disguise in a moment.”
“My husband is not here, after all, for I have been looking for him,” said Mrs. Lewis. “You see he does not always speak an untruth when he tells me he is going to the playhouse on the nights he is not acting.”
“Nothing could be clearer, my dear,” said her companion. “Oh, yes, men do speak the truth—yes, sometimes.”