ver to Chatteris upon a certain errand, but the Major
found out on what errand the boy had been. Faithful to his plan, Major
Pendennis gave his nephew no let or hindrance; but somehow the constant
feeling that the senior's eye was upon him, an uneasy shame attendant
upon that inevitable confession which the evening's conversation would
be sure to elicit in the most natural simple manner, made Pen go less
frequently to sigh away his soul at the feet of his charmer than he had
been wont to do previous to his uncle's arrival. There was no use trying
to deceive him; there was no pretext of dining with Smirke, or reading
Greek plays with Foker; Pen felt, when he returned from one of his
flying visits, that everybody knew whence he came, and appeared quite
guilty before his mother and guardian, over their books or their game at
picquet.

Once having walked out half a mile, to the Fairoaks Inn, beyond the
Lodge gates, to be in readiness for the Competitor coach, which changed
horses there, to take a run for Chatteris, a man on the roof touched his
hat to the young gentleman: it was his uncle's man, Mr. Morgan, who was
going on a message for his master, and had been took up at the Lodge, as
he said. And Mr. Morgan came back by the Rival, too; so that Pen had the
pleasure of that domestic's company both ways. Nothing was said at home.
The lad seemed to have every decent liberty; and yet he felt himself
dimly watched and guarded, and that there were eyes upon him even in the
presence of his Dulcinea.

In fact, Pen's suspicions were not unfounded, and his guardian had
sent forth to gather all possible information regarding the lad and
his interesting young friend. The discreet and ingenious Mr. Morgan, a
London confidential valet, whose fidelity could be trusted, had been
to Chatteris more than once, and made every inquiry regarding the
past history and present habits of the Captain and his daughter. He
delicately cross-examined the waiters, the ostlers, and all the inmates
of the bar at the George, and got from them what little they knew
respecting the worthy Captain. He was not held in very great regard
there, as it appeared. The waiters never saw the colour of his money,
and were warned not to furnish the poor gentleman with any liquor for
which some other party was not responsible. He swaggered sadly about the
coffee-room there, consumed a toothpick, and looked over the paper, and
if any friend asked him to dinner he stayed.