He was a little above the average height and very finely built; but there was nothing striking in his aquiline features and dark grey eyes, and I think Miss Houghton spoke truly when she said that he was ‘Not even good-looking.’ Still, in spite of this, it was a face which grew upon most people, and I felt the least little bit of regret as I looked at him, because I knew that I should persistently haunt and harass him, and should do all that could be done to spoil his life.
Apparently he had forgotten all about Russia and Bulgaria, for he looked radiantly happy. Clearly his thoughts were engrossed with his own affairs, which, in other words, meant with Gertrude Morley; and though, as I have since observed, there are times when a man in love is an altogether intolerable sort of being, there are other times when he is very much improved by the passion, and regards the whole world with a genial kindliness which contrasts strangely with his previous cool cynicism.
“How delightful and home-like your room always looks!” he exclaimed, taking the cup of tea which Mrs. O’Reilly handed to him. “I am horribly lonely at Ivy Cottage. This house is a sort of oasis in the desert.”
“Why, you are hardly ever at home, I thought,” said Mrs. O’Reilly, smiling. “You are the lion of the neighbourhood just now; and I’m sure it is very good of you to come in and cheer a lonely old woman. Are you going to play me something rather more lively to-day?”
He laughed.
“Ah! Poor Pestal! I had forgotten all about our last meeting.”
“You were very much excited that day,” said Mrs. O’Reilly. “I had no idea that your political notions—”
He interrupted her
“Ah! no politics to-day, dear Mrs. O’Reilly. Let us have nothing but enjoyment and harmony. See, now, I will play you something very much more cheerful.”
And sitting down to the piano, he played the bridal march from ‘Lohengrin,’ then wandered off into an improvised air, and finally treated them to some recollections of the ‘Mikado.’