She quietly threw the mantle of Mentor
over his shoulders, deferred to his judgment, had recourse to him as a
store-house of knowledge; and seemed so fully impressed with the fact
that he had a head, as utterly to forget the probability of his having
a heart. With a strange perversity, L'Isle was at once flattered and
annoyed at the use she made of him. It was an unequal game he was
playing, like a moth fluttering round a candle. His temper began to be
worn threadbare, and oftener than ever he repeated to himself, "She is
a heartless woman!"
In this mood L'Isle was listening, with a curled lip, to an animated
discussion between Lady Mabel, Sir Charles Moreton, and another
gentleman, as to the merits of a new actress, a dramatic meteor, then
briefly eminent on the London boards. The Honorable Mr. L----, who
was a _savant_ in the small sciences that cater to amusement,
pronounced her the Siddons of the day; Lady Mabel called her a ranter,
then, as if alarmed at her temerity, appealed as usual to L'Isle.
"No one can be a better judge of acting than Lady Mabel," said
L'Isle. "But for her opinion, I would call your favorite an
indifferently good actress.
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