her dear sad face. After
she had been here a while Pen knocked and led her downstairs to the
parlour again, and made her drink a little wine, and said, "God bless
you," as she touched the glass. "Nothing shall ever be changed in your
room," he said--"it is always your room--it is always my sister's room.
Shall it not be so, Laura?" and Laura said, "Yes!"

Among the widow's papers was found a packet, marked by the widow,
"Letters from Laura's father," and which Arthur gave to her. They were
the letters which had passed between the cousins in the early days
before the marriage of either of them. The ink was faded in which they
were written: the tears dried out that both perhaps had shed over them:
the grief healed now whose bitterness they chronicled: the friends
doubtless united whose parting on earth had caused to both pangs so
cruel. And Laura learned fully now for the first time what the tie was
which had bound her so tenderly to Helen: how faithfully her more than
mother had cherished her father's memory, how truly she had loved him,
how meekly resigned him.

One legacy of his mother's Pen remembered, of which Laura could have no
cognisance. It was that wish of Helen's to make some present to Fanny
Bolton; and Pen wrote to her, putting his letter under an envelope to
Mr. Bows, and requesting that gentleman to read it before he delivered
it to Fanny. "Dear Fanny," Pen said, "I have to acknowledge two letters
from you, one of which was delayed in my illness" (Pen found the first
letter in his mother's desk after her decease and the reading it gave
him a strange pang), "and to thank you, my kind nurse and friend, who
watched me so tenderly during my fever. And I have to tell you that the
last words of my dear mother who is no more, were words of goodwill and
gratitude to you for nursing me: and she said she would have written to
you, had she had time--that she would like to ask your pardon if she had
harshly treated you--and that she would beg you to show your forgiveness
by accepting some token of friendship and regard from her." Pen
concluded by saying that his friend, George Warrington, Esq., of Lamb
Court, Temple, was trustee of a little sum of money, of which the
interest would be paid to her until she became of age, or changed her
name, which would always be affectionately remembered by her grateful
friend, A. Pendennis. The sum was in truth but small, although enough to
make a little heiress of Fanny Bolton, wh