One day he rode into Chatteris to carry to
the County Chronicle a thrilling poem for the next week's paper; and
while putting up his horse at the stables at the George hotel, he fell in
with an old school-fellow, Mr. Foker, who after a desultory conversation
with Pen strolled down High Street with him, and persuaded him not only
to dine at the George with him, but to accompany him later to the
theatre. Mr. Foker, who was something of a sport, was acquainted with the
troupe who were then acting at that theatre, and the entire atmosphere
was so new and exciting to Pen that his emotional nature, which had been
waiting for many months for a sensational thrill, responded at once to
the idea; and later on to the applause of pit and gallery, and to the
personal magnetism of the heroine of the play, one Miss Fotheringay.
To Miss Fotheringay's attractions, natural and artificial, Pen responded
at once, and sat in breathless enchanted silence through all the
conversations and melodramatic situations of the mediocre performance.
When the curtain went down he felt that he now had a subject to inspire
his Muse forever. He quitted the theatre in a state of intense
excitement, and rode homeward in a state of numb ecstasy. Notwithstanding
his sentimental mood, Pen was so normal in mind and body that he slept as
soundly as ever, but when he awoke he felt himself to be many years older
than yesterday.
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