mustn't call me anything
but sir, or Mr. Pendennis, if you like; for we live in very different
stations, Fanny; and don't think I speak unkindly; and--and why do you
take your hand away, Fanny? Are you afraid of me? Do you think I would
hurt you? Not for all the world, my dear little girl. And--and look how
beautiful the moon and stars are, and how calmly they shine when the
rockets have gone out, and the noisy wheels have done hissing and
blazing. When I came here to-night I did not think I should have had
such a pretty little companion to sit by my side, and see these fine
fireworks. You must know I live by myself, and work very hard. I write
in books and newspapers, Fanny; and I quite tired out, and was expected
to sit alone all night; and--don't cry, my dear, dear, little girl."
Here Pen broke out, rapidly putting an end to the calm oration which he
had begun to deliver; for the sight of a woman's tears always put his
nerves in a quiver, and he began forthwith to coax her and soothe
her, and to utter a hundred and twenty little ejaculations of pity and
sympathy, which need not be repeated here, because they would be absurd
in print. So would a mother's talk to a child be absurd in print;
so would a lover's to his bride. That sweet artless poetry bears no
translation; and is too subtle for grammarians' clumsy definitions. You
have but the same four letters to describe the salute which you perform
on your grandmother's forehead, and that which you bestow on the sacred
cheek of your mistress; but the same four letters, and not one of them a
labial. Do we mean to hint that r. Arthur Pendennis made any use of the
monosyllable in question? Not so. In the first place, it was dark: the
fireworks were over, and nobody could see him; secondly, he was not a
man to have this kind of secret, and tell it; thirdly and lastly, let
the honest fellow who has kissed a pretty girl, say what would have been
his own conduct in such a delicate juncture?

Well, the truth is, that however you may suspect him, and whatever you
would have done under the circumstances, or Mr. Pen would have liked
to do, he behaved honestly, and like a man. "I will not play with this
little girl's heart," he said within himself, "and forget my own or
her honour. She seems to have a great deal of dangerous and rather
contagious sensibility, and I am very glad the fireworks are over, and
that I can take her back to her mother. Come along, Fanny; mind the
steps,