rone,
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.

"Pendennis"--she answered slowly, and looking him full in the eyes, with
a glance, so straight, so clear, so bright, so killing, with a voice so
sweet, so round, so low, that the word and the glance shot Pen through
and through, and perfectly transfixed him with pleasure.

"I never knew the name was so pretty before," Pen said.

"'Tis a very pretty name," Ophelia said. "Pentweazle's not a pretty
name. Remember, papa, when we were on the Norwich Circuit, Young
Pentweazle, who used to play second old men, and married Miss Rancy, the
Columbine; they're both engaged in London now, at the Queen's, and get
five pounds a week. Pentweazle wasn't his real name. 'Twas Judkin gave
it him, I don't know why. His name was Harrington; that is, his real
name was Potts; fawther a clergyman, very respectable. Harrington was in
London, and got in debt. Ye remember; he