P. only jest before; hadn't we, Fanny? and if this
was the famous Epsom races that they talked so much about, she didn't
care, for her part, if she never saw them again. And how was Major
Pendennis, and that kind Mr. Warrington, who brought Mr. P.'s great
kindness to Fanny? and she never would forget it, never: and Mr.
Warrington was so tall, he almost broke his 'ead up against their lodge
door. You recollect Mr. Warrington a-knocking' of his head--don't you,
Fanny?

Whilst Mrs. Bolton was so discoursing, I wonder how many thousands
of thoughts passed through Fanny's mind, and what dear times, sad
struggles, lonely griefs, and subsequent shamefaced consolations were
recalled to her? What pangs had the poor little thing, as she thought
how much she had loved him, and that she loved him no more? There he
stood, about whom she was going to die ten months since, dandified,
supercilious, with a black crape to his white hat, and jet buttons in
his shirt-front and a pink in his coat, that some one else had probably
given him: with the tightest lavender-coloured gloves sewn with black
and the smallest of canes. And Mr. Huxter wore no gloves, and great
Blucher boots, and smelt very much of tobacco certainly; and looked, oh,
it must be owned, he looked as if a bucket of water would do him a great
deal of good! All these thoughts, and a myriad of others, rushed through
Fanny's mind as her mamma was delivering herself of her speech, and as
the girl, from under her eyes, surveyed Pendennis--surveyed him entirely
from head to foot, the circle on his white forehead that his hat left
when he lifted it (his beautiful, beautiful hair had grown again), the
trinkets at his watch-chain, the ring on his hand under his glove, the
neat shining boot, so, so unlike Sam's high-low!--and after her hand had
given a little twittering pressure to the lavender-coloured kid grasp
which was held out to it, and after her mother had delivered herself of
her speech, all Fanny could find to say was, "This is Mr. Samuel Huxter
whom you knew formerly, I believe, sir; Mr. Samuel, you know you knew
Mr. Pendennis formerly--and--and, will you take a little refreshment?"

These little words, tremulous and uncoloured as they were, yet were
understood by Pendennis in such a manner as to take a great load of
suspicion from off his mind--of remorse, perhaps, from his heart. The
frown on the countenance of the Prince of Fairoaks disappeared, and a
good-natured smile