rnal fondness fear or invent? "Depend on it, my dear
creature," Major Pendennis would say gallantly to her, "the boy will
recover. As soon as we get her out of the country we will take him
somewhere, and show him a little life. Meantime make yourself easy about
him. Half a fellow's pangs at losing a woman result from vanity more
than affection. To be left by a woman is the deuce and all, to be sure;
but look how easily we leave 'em."

Mrs. Pendennis did not know. This sort of knowledge had by no means come
within the simple lady's scope. Indeed she did not like the subject or
to talk of it: her heart had had its own little private misadventure and
she had borne up against it and cured it: and perhaps she had not much
patience with other folk's passions, except, of course, Arthur's, whose
sufferings she made her own, feeling indeed very likely in many of the
boy's illnesses and pains a great deal more than Pen himself endured.
And she watched him through this present grief with a jealous silent
sympathy; although, as we have said, he did not talk to her of his
unfortunate condition.

The Major must be allowed to have had not a little merit and
forbearance, and to have exhibited a highly creditable degree of family
affection. The life at Fairoaks was uncommonly dull to a man who had the
entree of half the houses in London, and was in the habit of making
his bow in three or four drawing-rooms of a night. A dinner with Doctor
Portman or a neighbouring Squire now and then; a dreary rubber at
backgammon with the widow, who did her utmost to amuse him; these were
the chief of his pleasures. He used to long for the arrival of the
bag with the letters, and he read every word of the evening paper. He
doctored himself too, assiduously,--a course of quiet living would suit
him well, he thought, after the London banquets. He dressed himself
laboriously every morning and afternoon: he took regular exercise up
and down the terrace walk. Thus with his cane, his toilet, his
medicine-chest, his backgammon-box, and his newspaper, this worthy and
worldly philosopher fenced himself against ennui; and if he did not
improve each shining hour, like the bees by the widow's garden wall,
Major Pendennis made one hour after another pass as he could, and
rendered his captivity just tolerable. After this period it was remarked
that he was fond of bringing round the conversation to the American war,
the massacre of Wyoming and the brilliant actions