fever
and bewitchment for Blanche, Smirke discoursed to Arthur about her.

The meeting between the two old acquaintances had been very cordial.
Arthur loved anybody who loved his mother; Smirke could speak on that
theme with genuine feeling and emotion. They had a hundred things to
tell each other of what had occurred in their lives. "Arthur would
perceive," Smirke said, "that his--his views on Church matters had
developed themselves since their acquaintance." Mrs. Smirke, a most
exemplary person, seconded them with all her endeavours. He had built
this little church on his mother's demise, who had left him provided
with a sufficiency of worldly means. Though in the cloister himself,
he had heard of Arthur's reputation. He spoke in the kindest and most
saddened tone; he held his eyelids down, and bowed his fair head on
one side. Arthur was immensely amused with him; with his airs; with his
follies and simplicity; with his blank stock and long hair; with his
real goodness, kindness, friendliness of feeling. And his praises of
Blanche pleased and surprised our friend not a little, and made him
regard her with eyes of particular favour.

The truth is, Blanche was very glad to see Arthur; as one is glad to
see an agreeable man in the country, who brings down the last news
and stories from the great city; who can talk better than most
country-folks, at least can talk that darling London jargon, so dear and
indispensable to London people, so little understood by persons out of
the world. The first day Pen came down, he kept Blanche laughing for
hours after dinner. She sang her songs with redoubled spirit. She did
not scold her mother; she fondled and kissed her, to the honest Begum's
surprise. When it came to be bedtime, she said, "Deja!" with the
prettiest air of regret possible; and was really quite sorry to go to
bed, and squeezed Arthur's hand quite fondly. He on his side gave her
pretty palm a very cordial pressure. Our young gentleman was of that
turn, that eyes very moderately bright dazzled him.

"She is very much improved," thought Pen, looking out into the night,
"very much. I suppose the Begum won't mind my smoking with the window
open. She's a jolly good old woman, and Blanche is immensely improved. I
liked her manner with her mother tonight. I liked her laughing way
with that stupid young cub of a boy, whom they oughtn't to allow to get
tipsy. She sang those little verses very prettily; they were devilish
pre