A young lady of six-and-twenty, whose eyes were perfectly wide open, and a luckless boy of eighteen, blind with love and infatuation, were in that chamber together; in which persons, as we have before seen them in the same place, the reader will have no difficulty in recognising Mr.Arthur Pendennis and Miss Costigan.
The poor boy had taken the plunge.

Trembling with passionate emotion, his heart beating and throbbing fiercely, tears rushing forth in spite of him, his voice almost choking with feeling, poor Pen had said those words which he could withhold no more, and flung himself and his whole store of love, and admiration, and ardour at the feet of this mature beauty.

Is he the first who has done so?
Have none before or after him staked all their treasure of life, as a savage does his land and possessions against a draught of the fair-skins' fire-water, or a couple of bauble eyes?
"Does your mother know of this, Arthur ?" said Miss Fotheringay, slowly.
He seized her hand madly and kissed it a thousand times.

She did not withdraw it.

"Does the old lady know it ?" Miss Costigan thought to herself, "well, perhaps she may," and then she remembered what a handsome diamond cross Mrs.Pendennis had on the night of the play, and thought, "Sure 'twill go in the family." "Calm yourself, dear Arthur," she said, in her low rich voice, and sniffled sweetly and gravely upon him.