n in life. Pen told him how Foker's father was a celebrated
brewer, and his mother was Lady Agnes Milton, Lord Rosherville's
daughter. The Captain broke out into a strain of exaggerated compliment
and panegyric about Mr. Foker, whose "native aristocracie," he said,
"could be seen with the twinkling of an oi--and only served to adawrun
other qualities which he possessed, a foin intellect and a generous
heart,"--in not one word of which speech did the Captain accurately
believe.

Pen walked on, listening to his companion's prate, wondering, amused,
and puzzled. It had not as yet entered into the boy's head to disbelieve
any statement that was made to him; and being of a candid nature
himself, he took naturally for truth what other people told him.
Costigan had never had a better listener, and was highly flattered by
the attentiveness and modest bearing of the young man.

So much pleased was he with the young gentleman, so artless, honest,
and cheerful did Pen seem to be, that the Captain finally made him an
invitation, which he very seldom accorded to young men, and asked Pen if
he would do him the fever to enter his humble abode, which was near at
hand, where the Captain would have the honour of inthrojuicing his young
friend to his daughther, Miss Fotheringay?

Pen was so delightfully shocked at this invitation, and was so stricken
down by the happiness thus suddenly offered to him, that he thought he
should have dropped from the Captain's arm at first, and trembled lest
the other should discover his emotion. He gasped out a few incoherent
words, indicative of the high gratification he should have in being
presented to the lady for whose--for whose talents he had conceived such
an admiration--such an extreme admiration; and followed the Captain,
scarcely knowing whither that gentleman led him. He was going to see
her! He was going to see her! In her was the centre of the universe.
She was the kernel of the world for Pen. Yesterday, before he knew her,
seemed a period ever so long ago--a revolution was between him and that
time, and a new world about to begin.

The Captain conducted his young friend to that quiet little street
in Chatteris, which is called Prior's Lane, which lies in the
ecclesiastical quarter of the town, close by Dean's Green and the
canons' houses, and is overlooked by the enormous towers of the
cathedral; there the Captain dwelt modestly in the first floor of a low
gabled house, on the door of wh