spectable apartments, and keep a brougham." And on this
simple calculation it was that the Major counselled Pen.

Arthur, laughing, told Warrington what his uncle's advice had been but
he luckily had a much more reasonable counsellor than the old gentleman
in the person of his friend, and in his own conscience, which said to
him, "Be grateful for this piece of good fortune; don't plunge into any
extravagancies. Pay back Laura!" And he wrote a letter to her, in which
he told her his thanks and his regard; and enclosed to her such an
instalment of his debt as nearly wiped it off. The widow and Laura
herself might well be affected by the letter. It was written with
genuine tenderness and modesty; and old Dr. Portman when he read a
passage in the letter, in which Pen, with an honest heart full of
gratitude, humbly thanked Heaven for his present prosperity, and
for sending him such dear and kind friends to support him in his ill
fortune,--when Doctor Portman read this portion of the letter, his voice
faltered, and his eyes twinkled behind his spectacles, and when he had
quite finished reading the same, and had taken his glasses off his
nose, and had folded up the paper and given it back to the widow, I
am constrained to say, that after holding Mrs. Pendennis's hand for a
minute, the Doctor drew that lady towards him and fairly kissed her:
at which salute, of course, Helen burst out crying on the Doctor's
shoulder, for her heart was too full to give any other reply: and the
Doctor blushing at great deal after his feat, led the lady, with a bow,
to the sofa, on which he seated himself by her; and he mumbled out, in
a low voice, some words of a Great Poet whom he loved very much, and
who describes how in the days of his prosperity he had made "the widow's
heart to sing for joy."

"The letter does the boy very great honour, very great honour, my dear,"
he said, patting it as it lay on Helen's knee--"and I think we have all
reason to be thankful for it--very thankful. I need not tell you in what
quarter, my dear, for you are a sainted woman: yes, Laura, my love, your
mother is a sainted woman. And Mrs. Pendennis, ma'am, I shall order a
copy of the book for myself, and another at the Book Club."

We may be sure that the widow and Laura walked out to meet the mail
which brought them their copy of Pen's precious novel, as soon as that
work was printed and ready for delivery to the public and that they read
it to each other: and th