knowing finger on
his nose, said, "Put them up with th' other letthers, Milly darling.
Poldoody's pomes was nothing to this." So Milly locked up the
manuscripts.

When then, the Major being dressed and presentable, presented himself to
Mrs. Pendennis, he found in the course of ten minutes' colloquy that
the poor widow was not merely distressed at the idea of the marriage
contemplated by Pen, but actually more distressed at thinking that the
boy himself was unhappy about it, and that his uncle and he should have
any violent altercation on the subject. She besought Major Pendennis
to be very gentle with Arthur: "He has a very high spirit, and will
not brook unkind words," she hinted. "Dr. Portman spoke to him rather
roughly--and I must own unjustly, the other night--for my dearest boy's
honour is as high as any mother can desire--but Pen's answer quite
frightened me, it was so indignant. Recollect he is a man now; and be
very--very cautious," said the widow, laying a fair long hand on the
Major's sleeve.

He took it up, kissed it gallantly and looked in her alarmed face with
wonder, and a scorn which he was too polite to show. "Bon Dieu!" thought
the old negotiator, "the boy has actually talked the woman round, and
she'd get him a wife as she would a toy if Master cried for it. Why
are there no such things as lettres-de-cachet--and a Bastille for young
fellows of family?" The Major lived in such good company that he might
be excused for feeling like an Earl.--He kissed the widow's timid hand,
pressed it in both his, and laid it down on the table with one of his
own over it, as he smiled and looked her in the face.

"Confess," said he, "now, that you are thinking how you possibly can
make it up to your conscience to let the boy have his own way."

She blushed and was moved in the usual manner of females. "I am thinking
that he is very unhappy--and I am too----"

"To contradict him or to let him have his own wish?" asked the other;
and added, with great comfort to his inward self, "I'm d----d if he
shall."

"To think that he should have formed so foolish and cruel and fatal an
attachment," the widow said, "which can but end in pain whatever be the
issue."

"The issue shan't be marriage, my dear sister," the Major said
resolutely. "We're not going to have a Pendennis, the head of the house,
marry a strolling mountebank from a booth. No, no, we won't marry into
Greenwich Fair, ma'am."

"If the match is broken sudd