"I suppose so.

She is very good-natured and lively. She sings, and she don't mind smoking. She'll have a fair fortune-I don't know how much-but my uncle augurs everything from the Begum's generosity, and says that she will come down very handsomely. And I think Blanche is dev'lish fond of me," said Arthur, with a sigh.

"That means that we accept her caresses and her money." "Haven't we said before, that life was a transaction?" Pendennis said. "I don't pretend to break my heart about her. I have told her pretty fairly what my feelings are-and-and have engaged myself to her. And since I saw her last, and for the last two months especially, whilst I have been in the country, I think she has been growing fonder and fonder of me; and her letters to me, and especially to Laura, seem to show it. Mine have been simple enough—no raptures nor vows, you understand-but looking upon the thing as an affaire faite; and not desirous to hasten or defer the completion."

"And Laura? how is she?" Warrington asked frankly.

"Laura, George," said Pen, looking his friend hard in the face"by Heaven, Laura is the best, and noblest, and dearest girl the sun ever shone upon." His own voice fell as he spoke it seemed as if he could hardly utter the words: he stretched out his hand to his comrade, who took it and nodded his head.

:

"Have you only found out that now, young un?" Warrington said, after a pause.

"Who has not learned things too late, George?" cried Arthur, in his impetuous way, gathering words and emotion as he went on. "Whose life is not a disappointment? Who carries his heart entire to the grave without a mutilation? I never knew anybody who was happy quite or who has not had to ransom himself out of the hands of Fate with the payment of some dearest treasure or other. Lucky if we are left alone afterwards, when we have paid our fine, and if the tyrant visits us no more. Suppose I have found out that I have lost the greatest prize in the world, now that it can't be mine-that for years I had an angel under my tent, and let her go?-am I the only one-ah, dear old boy, am I the only one? And do you think my lot is easier to bear because I own that I deserve it? She's gone from us. God's blessing be with her! She might have stayed, and I

lost her; it's like Undine: isn't it, George?"

"She was in this room once," said George.

He saw her there he heard the sweet low voice-he saw the sweet smile and eyes shining so kindly-the face remembered so

fondly-thought of in what night-watches-blest and loved always— gone now! A glass that had held a nosegay-a bible with Helen's handwriting-were all that were left him of that brief flower of his life. Say it is a dream: say it passes: better the recollection of a dream than an aimless waking from a blank stupor.

66

The two friends sate in silence awhile, each occupied with his own thoughts and aware of the other's. Pen broke it presently, by saying that he must go and seek for his uncle, and report progress to the old gentleman. The Major had written in a very bad humour; the Major was getting old. "I should like to see you in Parliament, and snugly settled with a comfortable house and an heir to the name before I make my bow. Show me these," the Major wrote, "and then, let old Arthur Pendennis make room for the younger fellows he has walked the Pall Mall pavé long enough."

;

"There is a kindness about the old heathen," said Warrington. "He cares for somebody besides himself, at least for some other part of himself besides that which is buttoned into his own coat;-for you and your race. He would like to see the progeny of the Pendennises multiplying and increasing, and hopes that they may inherit the land. The old patriarch blesses you from the Club window of Bays's, and is carried off and buried under the flags of St. James's Church, in sight of Piccadilly, and the cab-stand, and the carriages going to the levee. It is an edifying ending."

"The new blood I bring into the family," mused Pen, "is rather tainted. If I had chosen, I think my father-in-law Amory would not have been the progenitor I should have desired for my race; nor my grandfather-in-law Snell; nor our oriental ancestors. By the way, who was Amory? Amory was lieutenant of an Indiaman. Blanche wrote some verses about him,-about the storm, the mountain wave, the seaman's grave, the gallant father, and that sort of thing. Amory was drowned commanding a country ship between Calcutta and Sydney; Amory and the Begum weren't happy together. She has been unlucky in her selection of husbands, the good old lady, for, between ourselves, a more despicable creature than Sir Francis Clavering, of Clavering Park, Baronet, never" "Never legislated for his country," broke in Warrington; at which Pen blushed rather.

"By the way, at Baden,” said Warrington, “I found our friend the Chevalier Strong in great state, and wearing his orders. He told me that he had quarrelled with Clavering, of whom he seemed to have almost as bad an opinion as you have, and in fact, I think, though I will not be certain, confided to me his opinion, that Clavering was an

utter scoundrel. That fellow Bloundell, who taught you card-playing at Oxbridge, was with Strong; and time, I think, has brought out his valuable qualities, and rendered him a more accomplished rascal than he was during your undergraduateship. But the king of the place was the famous Colonel Altamont, who was carrying all before him, giving fêtes to the whole society, and breaking the bank, it was said."

"My uncle knows something about that fellow-Clavering knows something about him. There's something louche regarding him. But come! I must go to Bury Street, like a dutiful nephew." And taking his hat, Pen prepared to go.

"I will walk, too," said Warrington. And they descended the stairs, stopping, however, at Pen's chambers, which, as the reader has been informed, were now on the lower story.

Here Pen began sprinkling himself with eau-de-Cologne, and carefully scenting his hair and whiskers with that odoriferous water.

"What is the matter? You've not been smoking. Is it my pipe that has poisoned you?" growled Warrington.

"I'm-I'm

"I am going to call upon some women," said Pen. going to dine with 'em. They are passing through town, and are at an hotel in Jermyn Street."

Warrington looked with good-natured interest at the young fellow dandifying himself up to a pitch of completeness; and appearing at length in a gorgeous shirt-front and neckcloth, fresh gloves, and glistening boots. George had a pair of thick high-lows, and his old shirt was torn about the breast, and ragged at the collar, where his blue beard had worn it.

"Well, young un," said he, simply, "I like you to be a buck, somehow. When I walk about with you, it is as if I had a rose in my button-hole. And you are still affable. I don't think there is any young fellow in the Temple turns out like you; and I don't believe you were ever ashamed of walking with me yet."

"Don't laugh at me, George," said Pen.

"I say, Pen," continued the other, sadly, "if you write-if you write to Laura, I wish you would say 'God bless her' from me."

Pen blushed; and then looked at Warrington; and then-and then burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughing.

"I'm going to dine with her," he said. "I brought her and Lady Rockminster up from the country to-day-made two days of it— slept last night at Bath-I say, George, come and dine, too. I may ask any one I please, and the old lady is constantly talking about you."

George hesi

George refused. George had an article to write. tated; and oh, strange to say! at last he agreed to go. It was agreed that they should go and call upon the ladies; and they marched away in high spirits to the hotel in Jermyn Street. Once more the dear face shone upon him; once more the sweet voice spoke to him, and the terder hand pressed a welcome.

There still wanted half-an-hour to dinner. "You will go and see your uncle now, Mr. Pendennis," old Lady Rockminster said. "You will not bring him to dinner-no-his old stories are intolerable; and I want to talk to Mr. Warrington; I dare say he will amuse us. I think we have heard all your stories. We have been together for two whole days, and I think we are getting tired of each other."

So, obeying her ladyship's orders, Arthur went downstairs and walked to his uncle's lodgings.

CHAPTER XXXII.

FIAT JUSTITIA.

HE dinner was served when Arthur returned, and Lady Rockminster began to scold him for arriving late. But Laura, looking at her cousin, saw that his face was so pale and scared that she interrupted her imperious patroness; and asked, with tender alarm, what had happened? Was Arthur ill?

Arthur drank a large bumper of sherry. "I have heard the most extraordinary news; I will tell you afterwards," he said, looking at the servants. He was very nervous and agitated during the

dinner. "Don't tramp and beat so with your feet under the table," Lady Rockminster said. "You have trodden on Fido and upset his You see Mr. Warrington keeps his boots quiet."

saucer.

At the dessert-it seemed as if the unlucky dinner would never be over-Lady Rockminster said, "This dinner has been exceedingly stupid. I suppose something has happened, and that you want to speak to Laura. I will go and have my nap. I am not sure that I shall have any tea-no. Good-night, Mr. Warrington. come again, and when there is no business to talk about." And the old lady, tossing up her head, walked away from the room with great dignity.

You must

George and the others had risen with her, and Warrington was about to go away, and was saying "Good-night" to Laura, who, of course, was looking much alarmed about her cousin, when Arthur said.