The History of Pendennis

d most in the present state of Pen’s mind, for, besides those days when he could publicly announce his intention of going to Chatteris to take a fencing-lesson, and wen

s horse was killed under him: and got deeply into the books of the man who kept the hun

returned on the Rival which left for London at ten at night. Once his secret was nearly lost by Smirke’s simplicity, of whom Mrs. Pendennis asked whether they had read a great deal the night before, or a question

med, under the most solemn vows of secrecy, of Pen’s condition of mind, the curate said, with no small tremor, “that he hoped it was no unworthy object — no unlawful attachment, which Pen had formed”— for if so, the poor fel

r woman. I keep the matter a secret in my family, because — because — there are reasons of a weighty nature which I am not at liberty

know I can’t fight;” but by this compromise the wretched curate was put more than eve

to Miss Fotheringay, of the Theatre Royal,’ appearing every week; and other verses of the most gloomy, thrilling, and passionate cast. But as these poems were no longer signed NEP by their artful composer, but su

always singing in the County Chronicle? He writes something like you,

going to have a benefit, and was to appear in Ophelia — suppose we were to go — Shakspeare, you know, mot

orks he safely said there was more poetry than in all ‘Johnson’s Poets’ put together. And though Mr. Pendennis did not much read the works in question, yet he enjoined

, and said she would go. Laura jumped for joy. Was Pen happy?— was he ashamed? As he held his mother to him, he longed to tell her all,

but to go with Mrs. Pendennis in her carriage, and sit a whole night by her side!— he could not resist the idea of so much pleasure, and made a feeble speech, in which he spoke of temptation and gratitude, and finally accepted Mr

rt of the tete-a-tete was not to talk, but to appear as if she understood what Pen talked (a difficult matter, for the young fellow blurted out no small quantity of nonsense), and to look exceedingly handsome and sympathising. The fact is, whilst he was making one of his tirades — and delighted, perhaps, and wondering at his own eloquence, the lad would go on for twenty minutes at a time — the lovely Emily, who could not comprehend a tenth part of his talk, had leisure to think about her own affairs, and

his admiration was quite evident to both of them, and on his departure the old gentleman said to his dau

.” Pen would have been very much pleased if he had heard that phrase — he

Flint, the grocer, where his mother dales — fine fortune — drives in her chariot — splendid park and grounds — Fairo

about young Poldoody, and I’ve a whole desk full of verses he wrote me when he was i

he position in which ye are now, Milly dear. But ye mustn’t encourage this young c

le sip more of the punch,— sure, ’tis beautiful. Ye needn’t be afraid about the

n Pen entered. How delightful those interviews were! The Captain’s drawing-room was a low wainscoted room, with a large window looking into the Dean’s garden. There Pen sate and talked — and talked — Emily, looking beautiful as she sate at her work — looking beautiful and calm, and the sunshine came streaming in at the great windows, and lighted up her supe

o church every Sunday of her life, accompanied by her indefatigable father, who gave the responses in a

cked voice the parts, and his pupil learned them from his lips by rote, and repeated them in her full rich tones. He indicated the attitudes, and set and moved those beautiful arms of hers. Those who remember this grand actress on the stage can recall how she used always precisely the same gestures, looks, and tones; how she stood on the same plank of the stage in the same position, rolled her eyes at the same instant and to the same degree, and wept with precise

rtune was that the London managers had seen her. She had played in London three years before, and failed from utter stupidity. Since then it was that Bows had taken her in hand and taught her part after part. How he worked and screamed, and twisted, and repeated

d-cheeked girl with a quantity of shining brown ringlets, and Mrs. Pendennis, dressed in black velvet with the diamond cross which she sported on great occasions, looked uncommonly handsome and majestic. Behind these sate Mr. Arthur, and the gentle Smirke with the curl reposing on his fair forehead, and his white tie in perfect order. He blushed to find himself in such a place — but how happy was he to be there! He and Mrs. Pendennis brought books of ‘Hamlet’ with them to follow the tr

on bowing to you, Arthur?” Mr

lothes, as he called them, and with a large pair of white kid gloves, one of which he waved to Pendennis, whilst he laid the other sprawling ove

stly contenting himself with the part of Horatio, and reserving his chie

flinging about her snatches of flowers and songs with the most charming madness. What an opportunity her splendid black hair had of tossing over her shoulders! She made the most charming co

lay within the play (during which, as Hamlet lay at Ophelia’s knee, Pen felt that he would have liked to strangle Mr. Hornbull), but cried out great praises of

t “Bravo, Bravo,” as loud as the Dragoon officers themselves. These were greatly moved,— ils s’agitaient sur leurs bancs,— to borrow a phrase from our neighbours. They were led cheering into action by the portly Swallowtail, who waved his cap — the non-commissioned officers in the pit, of course, gallantly following their ch

could contain himself for rapture: and he leaned over his mother’s chair, and shouted, and hurrayed, and waved his hat. It was all he could do to keep his secret fro

tion, over her favourite trap-door. She seized the flowers (Foker discharged a prodigious bouquet at her, and even Smirke made a feeble shy with a rose, and blushed dreadfully when it fell into the pit). She seized the flowers and pressed them to her

ley was great in William. Goll, as the Admiral, looked like the figure-head of a seventy-four; and Garbetts, as Captain Boldweather, a miscreant who forms a plan for carrying off Black-eyed Susan, and waving an immense cocked hat

king a cigar by the side of Smirke, who warmed himself with a comforter. Mr. Foker’s tandem and lamps whirled by the sober old Clavering posters as they wer

an, and seeing from his place at the mahogany the Dean’s lady walking up and down the grass, with her children sporting around her, and her pink parasol over her lovely head — the Doctor stept out of the French windows of the dining-room into the lawn, which skirts that apartment, and left the other white neckcloths to gird at my lord Bishop. Then the Doctor went up and offered Mrs. Dean his a

r air. 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

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

She did not withdraw it. “Does the old lady know it?” Miss Costigan thought to herself, “well, perhaps she may,” and then she r

t the hair lightly off his throbbing forehead. He was in such a rapture and whirl of happiness that he could hardly speak. At last he gasped out

” said Miss Costigan, perhap

rds were tried but found impossible to plumb the tremendous depth of his affection. This speech, we say, is no business of ours. It was most likely not very wise, but what right have we to overhear? Let the poor boy fling o

at this very moment, and while Mrs. Dean and Doctor Portman were engaged in conversation, that y

there”— and he waggl

rmer, who received the embrace with perfect calmness and good humour. Master Ridley looked up and grinned, little Miss Rosa looked at her brother, and opened the mouth of astonishm

face glowing like coals. The garden party had re-entered the house when he ventured to look out again. The sickle moon was blazing bright in the heavens then, the stars were glittering, the bell of the cathedral t

worn and agitated, and his high-strung nerves had been at almost a maddening pitch when a summons came to h

ly his mother, but her friend, the Reverend Doctor Portman. Helen’s face looked very pale by the l

risis, and that there had been a d

Arthur?” Helen said

pale, appealing looks. “Where has he been? Where his mother’s son should have been ashamed to go. For your mother’s an angel, sir,

” sai

your other infamy. I saw you myself, sir. I saw you from the Dea

ckered up and shook, “I am a very young man, but you will please to

— you — you — you stand in your mother’s p

n. She is as good as she is beautiful. If any man but you insulted her, I would tell him what I t

ld, I told you, Doctor, he was not — not what you thought:” and the te

ther, with a soothing, protecting air, like Hamlet with Gertrude in the play. “I tell you, dear mother, she is as good. When you know her you will say so. She

growled the Doctor, but

ong. Her father was an officer, and distinguished himself in Spain. He was a friend of His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent, and is intimately known to the Duke of Wellington, and some of the first officers o

hardly knowing whether to burst with rage or laug

What else, Dr. Portman,” he said, “

his sudden lunge of Pen’s, the Doctor could only ga

ost superb wave of the hand. And the colloquy terminated by the writing of those two letters which were laid