ch a
state of despair as brought much worry to his mother and the Major. In
fact, Pen's attitude towards life and his actions at that time were so
unlike what they should have been at his age that his proceedings
tortured his mother not a little, and her anxiety would have led her
often to interfere with Pen's doings had not the Major constantly checked
her; fancying that he saw a favourable turn in Pen's malady, which was
shown by a violent attack of writing verses; also spouting them as he sat
with the home party of evenings; and one day the Major found a great
bookful of original verses in the lad's study. Also he discovered that
the young gentleman had a very creditable appetite for his meals, and
slept soundly at night. From these symptoms the Major argued that Pen was
leaving behind him his infatuation.

Dr. Portman was of the opinion that Pen should go to college. He thought
the time had come for the boy to leave his old surroundings, and, besides
study, have a moderate amount of the best society, too. Pen, who was
thoroughly out of harmony with his present surroundings, gloomily said he
would go, and in consequence of this decision not many weeks later the
widow and Laura nervously set about filling trunks with his books, and
linen, and making all necessary preparation for his departure, writing
cards with the name of Arthur Pendennis, Esquire, which were duly nailed
on the boxes; at which both the widow and Laura looked with tearful eyes.

A night soon came when the coach, with echoing horn and blazing lamps,
stopped at the lodge gate of Fair-Oaks, and Pen's trunks and his Uncle's
were placed on the roof of the carriage, into which the pair presently
afterwards entered. Mrs. Pendennis and Laura were standing by the
evergreens of the shrubbery, their figures lighted up by the coach lamps.
The guard cried "All right"; in another instant the carriage whirled
onward; the lights disappeared, and his mother's heart and prayers went
with them. Her sainted benedictions followed the departing boy. He had
left the home-nest in which he had been chafing; eager to go forth and
try his restless wings.

How lonely the house was without him! The corded trunks and book-boxes
were there in his empty study. Laura asked leave to come and sleep in
her aunt's room: and when she cried herself to sleep there, the mother
went softly into Pen's vacant chamber, and knelt down by the bed on
which the moon shone, and there prayed for he