“O of course,” said Mr. Bows, rather drily. “Here comes Hebe blushing from the cellar. Don’t you think it is time to go to rehearsal, Miss Hebe? You will be fined if you are later”—and he gave the young lady a look, which intimated that they had much better leave the room and the two elders together.
At this order Miss Hebe took up her bonnet and shawl, looking uncommonly pretty, good-humoured, and smiling: and Bows gathered up his roll of papers, and hobbled across the room for his hat and cane.
“Must you go?” said the Major. “Can’t you give us a few minutes more, Miss Fotheringay? Before you leave us, permit an old fellow to shake you by the hand, and believe that I am proud to have had the honour of making your acquaintance, and am most sincerely anxious to be your friend.”
Miss Fotheringay made a low curtsey at the conclusion of this gallant speech, and the Major followed her retreating steps to the door, where he squeezed her hand with the kindest and most paternal pressure. Bows was puzzled with this exhibition of cordiality: “The lad’s relatives can’t be really wanting to marry him to her,” he thought—and so they departed.
“Now for it,” thought Major Pendennis; and as for Mr. Costigan he profited instantaneously by his daughter’s absence to drink up the rest of the wine; and tossed off one bumper after another of the Madeira from the Grapes, with an eager shaking hand. The Major came up to the table, and took up his glass and drained it with a jovial smack. If it had been Lord Steyne’s particular, and not public-house Cape, he could not have appeared to relish it more.
“Capital Madeira, Captain Costigan,” he said. “Where do you get it? I drink the health of that charming creature in a bumper. Faith, Captain, I don’t wonder that the men are wild about her. I never saw such eyes in my life, or such a grand manner. I am sure she is as intellectual as she is beautiful; and I have no doubt she’s as good as she is clever.”
“A good girl, sir,—a good girl, sir,” said the delighted father; “and I pledge a toast to her with all my heart. Shall I send to the—to the cellar for another pint? It’s handy by. No? Well, indeed sir, ye may say she is a good girl, and the pride and glory of her father—honest old Jack Costigan. The man who gets her will have a jew’l to a wife, sir; and I drink his health, sir, and ye know who I mean, Major.”
“I am not surprised at young or old falling in love with her,” said the Major, “and frankly must tell you, that though I was very angry with my poor nephew Arthur, when I heard of the boy’s passion—now I have seen the lady I can pardon him any extent of it. By George, I should like to enter for the race myself, if I weren’t an old fellow and a poor one.”
“And no better man, Major, I’m sure,” cried Jack enraptured.
“Your friendship, sir, delights me. Your admiration for my girl brings tears to me eyes—tears, sir—manlee tears—and when she leaves me humble home for your own more splendid mansion, I hope she’ll keep a place for her poor old father, poor old Jack Costigan.”—The Captain suited the action to the word, and his bloodshot eyes were suffused with water, as he addressed the Major.