han these I never knew in the
whole course of my life; for everybody but each other admirable. But
they can't live together: they oughtn't to live together: and I wish,
my dear creature, with all my soul, that I could see you with an
establishment of your own--for there is no woman in London who could
conduct one better--with your own establishment, making your own home
happy."

"I am not very happy in this one," said the Sylphide; "and the stupidity
of mamma is enough to provoke a saint."

"Precisely so; you are not suited to one another. Your mother committed
one fault in early life--or was it Nature, my dear, in your case?--she
ought not to have educated you. You ought not to have been bred up to
become the refined and intellectual being you are, surrounded, as I
own you are, by those who have not your genius or your refinement. Your
place would be to lead in the most brilliant circles, not to follow, and
take a second place in any society. I have watched you, Miss Amory: you
are ambitious; and your proper sphere is command. You ought to shine;
and you never can in this house, I know it. I hope I shall see you in
another and a happier one, some day, and the mistress of it."

The Sylphide shrugged her lily shoulders with a look of scorn. "Where is
the Prince, and where is the palace, Major Pendennis?" she said. "I am
ready. But there is no romance in the world now, no real affection."

"No, indeed," said the Major, with the most sentimental and simple air
which he could muster.

"Not that I know anything about it," said Blanche, casting her eyes down
"except what I have read in novels."

"Of course not," Major Pendennis cried; "how should you, my dear young
lady? and novels ain't true, as you remark admirably, and there is no
romance left in the world. Begad, I wish I was a young fellow like my
nephew."

"And what," continued Miss Amory, musing, "what are the men whom we see
about at the balls every night--dancing guardsmen, penniless treasury
clerks--boobies! If I had my brother's fortune, I might have such an
establishment as you promise me--but with my name, and with my little
means, what am I to look to! A country parson, or a barrister in a
street near Russell Square, or a captain in a dragoon regiment, who will
take lodgings for me, and come home from the mess tipsy and smelling of
smoke like Sir Francis Clavering. That is how we girls are destined to
end life. O Major Pendennis, I am sick of London, and