hich, though coquettish, was too low and musical to be
called cold.
"So that gentleman, so free and easy in his manners, is not your
husband?"
"Heaven forbid! Do you think I should be so gay if he were? But, pooh!
what can you know of married life? No!" she continued, with a pretty air
of mock dignity; "I am the Belvidera, the Calista, of the company; above
all control, all husbanding, and reaping thirty-three shillings a week."
"But are you above lovers as well as husbands?" asked Percy with a
rakish air, borrowed from Saville.
"Bless the boy! No: but then my lovers must be at least as tall, and at
least as rich, and, I am afraid, at least as old, as myself."
"Don't frighten yourself, my dear," returned Percy; "I was not about to
make love to you."
"Were you not? Yes, you were, and you know it. But why will you not sup
with us?"
"Why not, indeed?" thought Percy, as the idea, thus more enticingly put
than it was at first, pressed upon him. "If _you_ ask me," he said, "I
will."
"I _do_ ask you, then," said the actress; and here the hero of the
company turned abruptly round with a theatrical start, and exclaimed,
"To sup or not to sup? that is the question."
"To sup, sir," said Godolphin.
"Very well! I am glad to hear it. Had you not better mount and rest
yourself in the coach? You can take my place--I am studying a new part.
We have two miles farther to B---- yet."
Percy accepted the invitation, and was soon by the side of the pretty
actress. The horses broke into a slow trot, and thus delighted with his
adventure, the son of the ascetic Godolphin, the pupil of the courtly
Saville, entered the town of B----, and commenced his first independent
campaign in the great world.
CHAPTER V.
THE MUMMERS.--GODOLPHIN IN LOVE.--THE EFFECT OF FANNY MILLINGER'S ACTING
UPON HIM.--THE TWO OFFERS.--GODOLPHIN QUITS THE PLAYERS.
Our travellers stopped at the first inn in the outskirts of the town.
Here they were shown into a large room on the ground-floor, sanded, with
a long table in the centre; and, before the supper was served, Percy
had leisure to examine all the companions with whom he had associated
himself.
In the first place, there was an old gentleman, of the age of
sixty-three, in a bob-wig, and inclined to be stout, who always played
the _lover_. He was equally excellent in the pensive Romeo and the
bustling Rapid. He had an ill way of talking off the stage, partly
because he had lost al
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