n of Dragoons, when informed of the occurrence by Mrs. Glanders,
whistled and made jocular allusions to it at dinner-time; on which Mrs.
Glanders called him a brute, and ordered the girls again out of the
room, as the horrid Captain burst out laughing. Mr. Simcoe was calm
under the intelligence; but rather pleased than otherwise; it only
served to confirm the opinion which he had always had of that wretched
young man: not that he knew anything about him--not that he had read one
line of his dangerous and poisonous works; Heaven forbid that he should:
but what could be expected from such a youth, and such frightful, such
lamentable, such deplorable want of seriousness? Pen formed the subject
for a second sermon at the Clavering chapel-of-ease: where the dangers
of London, and the crime of reading or writing novels, were pointed out
on a Sunday evening to a large and warm congregation. They did not
wait to hear whether he was guilty or not. They took his wickedness for
granted: and with these admirable moralists, it was who should fling the
stone at poor Pen.

The next day Mrs. Pendennis, alone and almost fainting with emotion and
fatigue, walked or rather ran to Dr. Portman's house to consult the good
Doctor. She had had an anonymous letter;--some Christian had thought
it his or her duty to stab the good soul who had never done mortal a
wrong--an anonymous letter with references to Scripture, pointing out
the doom of such sinners and a detailed account of Pen's crime. She was
in a state of terror and excitement pitiable to witness. Two or
three hours of this pain had aged her already. In her first moment
of agitation she had dropped the letter, and Laura had read it. Laura
blushed when she read it; her whole frame trembled, but it was with
anger. "The cowards," she said.--It isn't true.--No, mother, it isn't
true."

"It is true, and you've done it, Laura," cried out Helen fiercely. "Why
did you refuse him when he asked you? Why did you break my heart and
refuse him? It is you who led him into crime. It is you who flung him
into the arms of this--this woman.--Don't speak to me.--Don't answer me.
I will never forgive you, never. Martha, bring me my bonnet and shawl.
I'll go out. I won't have you come with me. Go away. Leave me, cruel
girl; why have you brought this shame on me?" And bidding her daughter
and her servants keep away from her, she ran down the road to Clavering.

Doctor Portman, glancing over the letter, tho