She would feel he was a friend, not a mere auditor.

He was jealous of the pit, on whom Mrs.Woffington lavished her smiles without measure.
At last, one day he sent her a wreath of flowers, and implored her, if any word he had said to her had pleased or interested her, to wear this wreath that night.

After he had done this he trembled; he had courted a decision, when, perhaps, his safety lay in patience and time.

She made her _entree;_ he turned cold as she glided into sight from the prompter's side; he raised his eyes slowly and fearfully from her feet to her head; her head was bare, wreathed only by its own rich glossy honors.

"Fool!" thought he, "to think she would hang frivolities upon that glorious head for me." Yet his disappointment told him he had really hoped it; he would not have sat out the play but for a leaden incapacity of motion that seized him.
The curtain drew up for the fifth act, and!--could he believe his eyes ?--Mrs.Woffington stood upon the stage with his wreath upon her graceful head.