life; and
he was only too delighted to follow Lord Steyne's ambassador, and pay
his personal respects to that great man.

The visit to Chatteris was the result of their conversation: and Mr.
Dolphin wrote to his lordship from that place, and did himself the
honour to inform the Marquess of Steyne, that he had seen the lady about
whom his lordship had spoken, that he was as much struck by her talents
as he was by her personal appearance, and that he had made an engagement
with Miss Fotheringay, who would soon have the honour of appearing
before a London audience, and his noble and enlightened patron the
Marquess of Steyne.

Pen read the announcement of Miss Fotheringay's engagement in the
Chatteris paper, where he had so often praised her charms. The Editor
made very handsome mention of her talent and beauty, and prophesied her
success in the metropolis. Bingley, the manager, began to advertise "The
last night of Miss Fotheringay's engagement." Poor Pen and Sir Derby
Oaks were very constant at the play: Sir Derby in the stage-box,
throwing bouquets and getting glances.--Pen in the almost deserted
boxes, haggard, wretched and lonely. Nobody cared whether Miss
Fotheringay was going or staying except those two--and perhaps one more,
which was Mr. Bows of the orchestra.

He came out of his place one night, and went into the house to the box
where Pen was; and he held out his hand to him, and asked him to come
and walk. They walked down the street together; and went and sate upon
Chatteris bridge in the moonlight, and talked about Her. "We may sit
on the same bridge," said he; "we have been in the same boat for a long
time. You are not the only man who has made a fool of himself about that
woman. And I have less excuse than you, because I am older and know her
better. She has no more heart than the stone you are leaning on; and it
or you or I might fall into the water, and never come up again, and she
wouldn't care. Yes--she would care for me, because she wants me to teach
her: and she won't be able to get on without me, and will be forced to
send for me from London. But she wouldn't if she didn't want me. She has
no heart and no head, and no sense, and no feelings, and no griefs or
cares, whatever. I was going to say no pleasures--but the fact is, she
does like her dinner, and she is pleased when people admire her."

"And you do?" said Pen, interested out of himself, and wondering at the
crabbed homely little old man.