"His face is certainly not handsome," replied her mother; "but his figure seems remarkably fine. His mother was as beautiful a woman as ever lived; and I have heard that till he was twenty he was equally good looking."
"Poor fellow!" cried Isadore; "he has been very unfortunate, then; for it is better to be born ugly than to become so afterward."
"I did not think him ugly at all," said Marian de Vaux.
"That was because you only saw the man that saved Edward's life," replied Isadore, laughing; "but he is not beautiful, I can assure you, Marian."
"Happy are they, my dear Isadore," replied her mother, "who can 'see Othello's visage in his mind;' and I do not think you, my dear girl, are one either, to value any one for their personal appearance."
"No, no, no, mamma! I am not," answered Miss Falkland; "but still, some sensible old gentleman has said that a good countenance is the best letter of recommendation; and now, had it not been that you had known Colonel Manners's mother, or that he had saved Edward's life--yet, notwithstanding--" she added, breaking off her sentence abruptly--"after all, perhaps, his face is just the one from which we should expect a man to save people's lives, and do a great many brave and noble things."
"I think so, certainly," answered Mrs. Falkland. "However ugly it may be, I have seldom seen a face through which a fine mind shone out so distinctly."
Such was the tenour of the conversation that went on in the drawing-room till the two gentlemen returned, and by their presence took themselves out of the range of topics. Other subjects were soon started, and filled the hours till supper-time. Edward de Vaux naturally took the place he loved best; and what passed between him and his fair cousin was not always loud enough in its tone, or general enough in its nature, to be very distinct to the rest of the party, or very interesting to the reader. Manners, who knew as well as any one how to effect a diversion in favour of a friend, placed himself near the other ladies, and displayed such stores of varied information as well occupied their attention. Those stores were somewhat desultory, perhaps, but they were gained from every source. Man, and all the fine and all the amusing traits of his character; countries, and all their beauties and their disadvantages; the history of other times, the varied events of the present; matters of taste and of science, the light wit of a playful imagination, and the choice knowledge procured by very extensive reading; all seemed to come within the scope of his mind. All too, had been refined and ornamented by judgment and good feeling, and his conversation had still the peculiar charm of appearing far less profound than it really was. It was all light, and playful, and gay; and yet, on rising from it, one felt improved and instructed, without well knowing how or in what. His memory, too, was excellent, and stored with a number of little anecdotes and beautiful scraps of poetry; and, without ever seeming to intrude them, he knew how to mingle them in the general current of what was passing, with tact almost as skilful as that of the greatest writer and most amiable man that centuries have witnessed upon earth--Sir Walter Scott.
So extensive, indeed, seemed to have been the reading of their new acquaintance, that Mrs. Falkland wondered thereat in silence; while Isadore, well knowing that there is scarcely any question on the face of the earth that a young and pretty woman may not ask of a man under forty with perfect bienséance and propriety, looked up with a smile, and said--"Pray tell me, Colonel Manners, where you have found time, while you have been defeating the king's enemies night and day, to read everything of every kind that is worth reading."
"Oh, madam," he replied, "I am afraid I have read but little as compared with what I might have done. A soldier's life is the most favourable of all others for general reading; though, perhaps, not for pursuing steadily any particular study. He is for a few days full of active employment, and then for many more has hardly anything to do; and if he gives one half of his spare time to reading, he will, I believe, read more than many a philosopher. The only difficulty is in procuring books that are worth the trouble of poring over."