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lany—my provocations would justify any thing—all the artful management it has cost me.

Re-enter Mrs. Arden, with mortified timidity.

MRS. ARDEN.

You will be at Chelsea to-night?

ROBINAIR.

Yes, Lady, where I shall be delighted to see you, and to obey your commands.
[Exit Mrs. Arden.
(Holding up his hands exultingly.) I knew it would be so! There was a rude burst of anger, to be sure; but the vision of a man's bare throat, with a noose about it, has crossed her in the hall, and checked her wayward steps.—Ho, there!

Enter a Servant.

Send notice to the housekeeper at Chelsea that——No, I must write down her directions, else there will be some cursed mistake or other. (Goes to a table, and sits down to write, while the Servant waits.)

Enter Bruton.

BRUTON.

You are engaged I see.

ROBINAIR.

No, no! I'll speak to you immediately.