ook her to Vauxhall Gardens, as Morgan
heard from an old acquaintance of Pen's and ours, an Irish gentleman,
who was very nearly once having the honour of being the--from an
Irishman, in fact;--that the girl's father, a violent man of intoxicated
habits, has beaten her mother, who persists in declaring her daughter's
entire innocence to her husband on the one hand, while on the other she
told Goodenough, that Arthur has acted like a brute to her child. And so
you see the story remains in a mystery. Will you have it cleared up? I
have but to ask Pen, and he will tell me at once--he is as honourable a
man as ever lived."

"Honourable!" said the widow with bitter scorn. "Oh, brother, what is
this you call honour? If my boy has been guilty, he must marry her. I
would go down on my knees and pray him to do so."

"Good God! are you mad?" screamed out the Major; and remembering former
passages in Arthur's history and Helen's, the truth came across his
mind that, were Helen to make this prayer to her son, he would marry the
girl: he was wild enough and obstinate enough to commit any folly when
a woman he loved was in the case. "My dear sister, have you lost your
senses?" he continued (after an agitated pause, during which the above
dreary reflection crossed him); and in a softened tone, "What right have
we to suppose that anything has passed between this girl and him? Let's
see the letter. Her heart is breaking; pray, pray, write to me--home
unhappy--unkind father--your nurse--poor little Fanny--spelt, as you
say, in a manner to outrage all sense of decorum. But, good heavens! my
dear, what is there in this? only that the little devil is making love
to him still. Why, she didn't come into his chambers until he was so
delirious that he didn't know her. What-d'you-call-'em, Flanagan,
the laundress, told Morgan, my man, so. She came in company of an old
fellow, an old Mr. Bows, who came most kindly down to Stillbrook and
brought me away--by the way, I left him in the cab, and never paid
the fare; and dev'lish kind it was of him. No, there's nothing in the
story."

"Do you think so? Thank Heaven--thank God!" Helen cried. "I'll take the
letter to Arthur and ask him now. Look at him there. He's on the terrace
with Mr. Warrington. They are talking to some children. My boy was
always fond of children. He's innocent, thank God--thank God! Let me go
to him."

Old Pendennis had his own opinion. When he briskly took the not guilty
sid