The next moment the door was flung open so suddenly that Mrs. Lewis was startled, and gave a cry; but before her husband had time to take a step into the room, Mrs. Abington had blown out the lamp, leaving the room in complete darkness.
“Stand where you are,” cried the actress, in her assumed voice; “Stand, or by the Lord Harry, I'll run you through the vitals!”
The sound of the whisking of her sword from its sheath followed.
“Who are you, fellow, and what do you want here?” she continued.
“The rascal's impudence confounds me,” said Lewis. “Infamous scoundrel! I have had my eye on you all night; I am the husband of the lady whom you lured from her home to be your companion.”
“Oh, then you are Mr. Lee Lewis, the actor,” said Mrs. Abington. “Pray, how does it come, sir, that you were at Vauxhall when you assured your poor wife that you were going to the playhouse?”
“What! the rascal has the audacity—”
“Husband—husband—a moment will explain all!” cried Mrs. Lewis, across the table.
“Silence, woman!” shouted the man.
“She had better remain silent,” said the actress. “Look you, sir, how often have you not deceived that poor young thing, whose only fault is loving you too well? What, sir, have you the effrontery to accuse her? Does your own conscience acquit you of every attempt to deceive her, that you can throw a stone at her? You blame her for going with me to the Gardens—can you say that you have never made an appointment with a lady to meet you at the same Gardens? What truth is there in the report which is in everyone's mouth, that you are in the train of Mrs. Abington's admirers?”