sk them. They're inside," Fanny answered.

"Who? his mother?"

Fanny nodded her head and didn't speak.

"You must go to bed yourself, my poor little maid," said the Doctor.
"You will be ill, too, if you don't."

"Oh, mayn't I come and see him: mayn't I come and see him! I--I--love
him so," the little girl said; and as she spoke she fell down on her
knees and clasped hold of the Doctor's hand in such an agony that to see
her melted the kind physician's heart, and caused a mist to come over
his spectacles.

"Pooh, pooh! Nonsense! Nurse, has he taken his draught? Has he had any
rest? Of course you must come and see him. So must I."

"They'll let me sit here, won't they, sir? I'll never make no noise.
I only ask to stop here," Fanny said. On which the Doctor called her a
stupid little thing; put her down upon the bench where Pen's printer's
devil used to sit so many hours; tapped her pale cheek with his finger,
and bustled into the farther room.

Mrs. Pendennis was ensconced pale and solemn in a great chair by Pen's
bedside. Her watch was on the bed-table by Pen's medicines. Her bonnet
and cloaks were laid in the window. She had her Bible in her lap,
without which she never travelled. Her first movement, after seeing
her son, had been to take Fanny's shawl and bonnet which were on his
drawers, and bring them out and drop them down upon his study-table.
She had closed the door upon Major Pendennis, and Laura too; and taken
possession of her son.

She had had a great doubt and terror lest Arthur should not know her;
but that pang was spared to her in part at least. Pen knew his mother
quite well, and familiarly smiled and nodded at her. When she came in,
he instantly fancied that they were at home at Fairoaks; and began to
talk and chatter and laugh in a rambling wild way. Laura could hear him
outside. His laughter shot shafts of poison into her heart. It was true,
then. He had been guilty--and with that creature!--an intrigue with a
servant-maid, and she had loved him--and he was dying most likely raving
and unrepentant. The Major now and then hummed out a word of remark or
consolation, which Laura scarce heard.

A dismal sitting it was for all parties; and when Goodenough appeared,
he came like an angel into the room.

It is not only for the sick man, it is for the sick man's friends that
the Doctor comes. His presence is often as good for them as for the
patient, and they long for him yet more eagerly. How we h