maining
gentlemen, and they went upstairs to the ladies in the drawing-room,
Foker declaring confidentially to Pen that "this was the rummest go
he ever saw," which decision Pen said, laughing, "Showed great
discrimination on Mr. Foker's part."

Then, according to her promise, Miss Amory made music for the young men.
Foker was enraptured with her performance, and kindly joined in the
airs which she sang, when he happened to be acquainted with them. Pen
affected to talk aside with others of the party, but Blanche brought him
quickly to the piano, by singing some of his own words, those which
we have given in a previous number, indeed, and which the Sylphide had
herself, she said, set to music. I don't know whether the air was hers,
or how much of it was arranged for her by Signor Twankidillo, from whom
she took lessons: but good or bad, original or otherwise, it delighted
Mr. Pen, who remained by her side, and turned the leaves now for her
most assiduously--"Gad! how I wish I could write verses like you, Pen,"
Foker sighed afterwards to his companion. "If I could do 'em, wouldn't
I, that's all? But I never was a dab at writing, you see, and I'm sorry
I was so idle when I was at school."

No mention was made before the ladies of the curious little scene which
had been transacted below-stairs; although Pen was just on the point of
describing it to Miss Amory, when that young lady inquired for Captain
Strong, who she wished should join her in a duet. But chancing to look
up towards Sir Francis Clavering, Arthur saw a peculiar expression of
alarm in the baronet's ordinarily vacuous face, and discreetly held his
tongue. It was rather a dull evening. Welbore went to sleep as he always
did at music and after dinner: nor did Major Pendennis entertain the
ladies with copious anecdotes and endless little scandalous stories,
as his wont was, but sate silent for the most part, and appeared to be
listening to the music, and watching the fair young performer.

The hour of departure having arrived the Major rose, regretting that so
delightful an evening should have passed away so quickly, and addressed
a particularly fine compliment to Miss Amory upon her splendid talents
as a singer. "Your daughter, Lady Clavering," he said to that lady, "is
a perfect nightingale--a perfect nightingale, begad! I have scarcely
ever heard anything equal to her, and her pronunciation of every
language--begad, of every language--seems to me to be perfec