“Her name?” he said. “Surely I have described her very badly if you have not recognized the portrait. But, for that matter, I have often felt how inadequate are words to describe character combined with grace—a nature inclined to seriousness in conjunction with a desire to attract—loftiness of purpose linked with a certain daintiness—”
He made a few gestures with his hands, keeping his elbows close to his side, and then imitated the spreading of a capacious skirt preparatory to sinking in a curtsey, and in a moment there was a cry from every part of the room of “Miss Reynolds—Miss Reynolds!”
“And who has a word to say against Miss Reynolds?” cried the actor.
“No one—no one,” said Fanny. “Character combined with grace—Miss Reynolds linked with Lieutenant Burney.”
“She would make a fine sheet anchor for an Admiral of the Blue,” laughed Jim. “And with your permission, sir, I will postpone my offer until I have attained that rank.”
“I have advised Mr. Kendal to hurry things on,” said Garrick gravely. “For if you have time to spare before making up your mind, the lady cannot reasonably be thought equally fortunate. ‘Lieutenant Burney, your attitude is not complimentary to the blissful bondage’”—once more it was Mr. Kendal who was in the room.
“Call the roll,” said Jim. “Who comes next on your list, Mr. Garrick?”
“Well, I was thinking of Dr. Johnson with Mrs. Abington,” said Garrick; “but perhaps you may quibble even at that.”
The room rang with laughter, for everyone had seen the beautiful actress whose lead in dress was followed by all the ladies in the fashionable world who could afford to do so, and a greater number who could not; and the worsted hose and scorched wig, two sizes too small, of Dr. Johnson had been gazed at with awe by the Burney family when he visited the house in St. Martin’s Street.