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By Charles Reade: Woffington

And the reflection her glass threw back was one of rare beauty. An oval face crowned by tresses which equaled the ebon of the raven's plumage, lustrous eyes in which the emotions constantly played, and a poise that nothing apparently could disturb. Yet there was a curious expression on her handsome features, a look which she had never before witnessed. For Peg Woffington, for the first time in her life, was in love.

She had many admirers and quite a few flirtations, but they had all been ephemeral, as Peg Woffington could quickly detect idle flattery and the sycophancies of the jeunesse doree which hung about her shrine. She was a woman of the world, keen, suspicious, and cynical, and while she toyed with her gallants, her heart and soul were in her work. But one evening she noticed in a box a face new to the theater. He was a man evidently from the provinces, but he gazed at her with undisguised admiration. Night after night he was at his post, listening attentively to every word she spoke and with an unmistakable air of respect.

She waited, thinking like all the others he would seek an interview, but as time went on and he made no attempt to bring an acquaintance, Peg's curiosity was piqued and by guarded inquiries she learned that he was Ernest Vane, a country gentleman of means and reputed a bachelor. One night, however, Mr. Vane was brought to the greenroom by Sir Charles Pomander, a man about town who had long but unsuccessfully sought to win Peg's favor. Miss Woffington was not in the room when Mr. Vane first arrived. He quickly adapted himself to the novel surroundings and launched into a eulogy of Peg's personal charms and histrionic ability.

During Mr. Vane's remarks Peg had entered the room and overheard her praises so eloquently sung, and, knowing that Mr. Vane was unaware of her presence, she was impressed with his sincerity. Then they were introduced and Mr. Vane was almost speechless with admiration. All that his imagination had painted was more than realized. Her beauty, her intelligence, her graciousness, were overpowering and Mr. Vane, in his embarrassment, could only stammer a few commonplaces. Here indeed was a novelty and her curiosity turned to interest. She was still cautious and would treat her new-found friend with varying moods, sometimes cordial and then again coldly, but all the while she was learning more and more of the man who had come into her life. As she stood before her mirror she was awaiting the arrival of Mr. Vane. They had become warm friends, much more on the part of Mr. Vane, who had openly declared his love and had sent her many tokens of his affection, which Peg had accepted, but with her peculiar whim she had declined anything save some inexpensive gift, telling her lover that it was the sentiment which she desired, not the intrinsic value of the present. She had decided to reveal to Mr. Vane that she, in turn, loved him, but the old, suspicious feeling would not leave her.