had only his family's honour in view--for
Arthur was ready to flame up in indignation whenever Miss Costigan's
honesty was doubted, and swore that he would never have her name
mentioned lightly, and never, never would part from her.

He repeated this to his uncle and his friends at home, and also, it must
be confessed, to Miss Fotheringay and the amiable family, at Chatteris,
with whom he still continued to spend some portion of his time. Miss
Emily was alarmed when she heard of the arrival of Pen's guardian, and
rightly conceived that the Major came down with hostile intentions to
herself. "I suppose ye intend to leave me, now your grand relation has
come down from town. He'll carry ye off, and you'll forget your poor
Emily, Mr. Arthur!"

Forget her! In her presence, in that of Miss Rouncy, the Columbine
and Milly's confidential friend of the Company, in the presence of the
Captain himself, Pen swore he never could think of any other woman but
his beloved Miss Fotheringay; and the Captain, looking up at his foils
which were hung as a trophy on the wall of the room where Pen and he
used to fence, grimly said, he would not advoise any man to meddle
rashly with the affections of his darling child; and would never believe
his gallant young Arthur, whom he treated as his son, whom he called
his son, would ever be guilty of conduct so revolting to every idaya of
honour and humanity.

He went up and embraced Pen after speaking. He cried, and wiped his
eye with one large dirty hand as he clasped Pen with the other.
Arthur shuddered in that grasp, and thought of his uncle at home.
His father-in-law looked unusually dirty and shabby; the odour of
whisky-and-water was even more decided than in common. How was he to
bring that man and his mother together? He trembled when he thought that
he had absolutely written to Costigan (enclosing to him a sovereign, the
loan of which the worthy gentleman had need), and saying that one day
he hoped to sign himself his affectionate son, Arthur Pendennis. He
was glad to get away from Chatteris that day; from Miss Rouncy the
confidante; from the old toping father-in-law; from the divine Emily
herself. "O, Emily, Emily," he cried inwardly, as he rattled homewards
on Rebecca, "you little know what sacrifices I am making for you!--for
you who are always so cold, so cautious, so mistrustful;" and he thought
of a character in Pope to whom he had often involuntarily compared her.

Pen never rode o