id, "he might do anything." One
by one the University honours were lost by him, until he ceased to
compete. But he got a declamation prize and brought home to his mother
and Laura a set of prize books begilt with the college arms, and so
magnificent that the ladies thought that Pen had won the largest honour
which Oxbridge was capable of awarding.

Vacation after vacation passed without the desired news that Pen had sat
for any scholarship or won any honour, and Pen grew rebellious and
unhappy, and there was a tacit feud between Dr. Portman, who was
disappointed in Arthur, and the lad himself. Mrs. Pendennis, hearing Dr.
Portman prophesy that Pen would come to ruin, trembled in her heart, and
little Laura also--Laura who had grown to be a fine young stripling,
graceful and fair, clinging to her adopted mother and worshipping her
with a passionate affection. Both of these women felt that their boy was
changed. He was no longer the artless Pen of old days, so brave, so
impetuous, so tender. He spent little of his vacations at home, but went
on visits, and scared the quiet pair at Fair-Oaks by stories of great
houses to which he had been invited, and by talking of lords without
their titles.

But even with all his weaknesses there was a kindness and frankness about
Arthur Pendennis which won most people who came in contact with him, and
made it impossible to resist his good-nature, or in his worst moments not
to hope for his rescue from utter ruin. At the time of his career of
university pleasure he would leave the gayest party to sit with a sick
friend and was only too ready to share any money which he had with a
poorer one.

In his third year at college the duns began to gather awfully round about
him, and descended upon him in such a number that the tutors were
scandalised, and even brave-hearted Pen was scared. Hearing of his
nephew's extravagances, Major Pendennis interviewed that young man, and
was thunderstruck at the extent of his liabilities after receiving Pen's
dismal confession of the trouble in which he was involved.

Perhaps it was because she was so tender and good that Pen was terrified
lest his mother should know of his sins. "I can't bear to break it to
her," he said to the tutor, in an agony of grief. "Oh! sir, I've been a
villain to her!"

--and he repented, and asked himself, Why, why, did his uncle insist
upon the necessity of living with great people, and in how much did all
his grand acquainta