“It is very fine weather,” Miss Fotheringay said, in an Irish accent, and with a deep rich melancholy voice.
“Very,” said Mr. Pendennis. In this romantic way their conversation began; and he found himself seated on a chair, and having leisure to look at the young lady.
She looked still handsomer off the stage, than before the lamps. All her attitudes were naturally grand and majestical. If she went and stood up against the mantelpiece her robe draped itself classically round her; her chin supported itself on her hand, the other lines of her form arranged themselves in full harmonious undulations—she looked like a Muse in contemplation. If she sate down on a cane-bottomed chair, her arm rounded itself over the back of the seat, her hand seemed as if it ought to have a sceptre put into it, the folds of her dress fell naturally round her in order, like ladies of honour round a throne, and she looked like an empress. All her movements were graceful and imperial. In the morning you could see her hair was blue-black, her complexion of dazzling fairness, with the faintest possible blush flickering, as it were, in her cheek. Her eyes were grey, with prodigious long lashes; and as for her mouth, Mr. Pendennis has given me subsequently to understand, that it was of a staring red colour, with which the most brilliant geranium, sealing-wax, or Guardsman’s coat, could not vie.
“And very warm,” continued this empress and Queen of Sheba.
Mr. Pen again assented, and the conversation rolled on in this manner. She asked Costigan whether he had had a pleasant evening at the George, and he recounted the supper and the tumblers of punch. Then the father asked her how she had been employing the morning.
“Bows came,” said she, “at ten, and we studied Ophalia. It’s for the twenty-fourth, when I hope, sir, we shall have the honour of seeing ye.”
“Indeed, indeed, you will,” Mr. Pendennis cried; wondering that she should say ‘Ophalia,’ and speak with an Irish inflection of voice naturally, who had not the least Hibernian accent on the stage.
“I’ve secured ’um for your benefit, dear,” said the Captain, tapping his waistcoat pocket, wherein lay Pen’s sovereigns, and winking at Pen, with one eye, at which the boy blushed.
“Mr—-the gentleman’s very obleging,” said Mrs. Haller.
“My name is Pendennis,” said Pen, blushing. “I—I—hope you’ll—you’ll remember it.” His heart thumped so as he made this audacious declaration, that he almost choked in uttering it.