en's motherly care.

Round her neck she had a locket with hair, which Helen had given, ah
how many years ago! to poor Francis, dead and buried. This child was all
that was left of him, and she cherished, as so tender a creature would,
the legacy which he had bequeathed to her. The girl's name, as his dying
letter stated, was Helen Laura. But John Pendennis, though he accepted
the trust, was always rather jealous of the orphan; and gloomily ordered
that she should be called by her own mother's name; and not by that
first one which her father had given her. She was afraid of Mr.
Pendennis, to the last moment of his life. And it was only when her
husband was gone that Helen dared openly to indulge in the tenderness
which she felt for the little girl.

Thus it was that Laura Bell became Mrs. Pendennis's daughter. Neither
her husband nor that gentleman's brother, the Major, viewed her with
very favourable eyes. She reminded the first of circumstances in his
wife's life which he was forced to accept, but would have forgotten much
more willingly and as for the second, how could he regard her? She was
neither related to his own family of Pendennis, nor to any nobleman
in this empire, and she had but a couple of thousand pounds for her
fortune.

And now let Mr. Pen come in, who has been waiting all this while.

Having strung up his nerves, and prepared himself, without at the door,
for the meeting, he came to it, determined to face the awful uncle. He
had settled in his mind that the encounter was to be a fierce one, and
was resolved on bearing it through with all the courage and dignity of
the famous family which he represented. And he flung open the door and
entered with the most severe and warlike expression, armed cap-a-pie as
it were, with lance couched and plumes displayed, and glancing at his
adversary, as if to say, "Come on, I'm ready."

The old man of the world, as he surveyed the boy's demeanour, could
hardly help a grin at his admirable pompous simplicity. Major Pendennis
too had examined his ground; and finding that the widow was already
half won over to the enemy, and having a shrewd notion that threats and
tragic exhortations would have no effect upon the boy, who was inclined
to be perfectly stubborn and awfully serious, the Major laid aside the
authoritative manner at once, and with the most good-humoured natural
smile in the world, held out his hands to Pen, shook the lad's passive
fingers gaily, and said,