ssly deceived and put upon, Milly,
and it's my belief his old ruffian of an uncle in a wig is in the plot
against us."

"That soft old gentleman? What has he been doing, Papa?" continued
Emily, still imperturbable.

Costigan informed Milly, that when she was gone, Major Pendennis told
him in his double-faced Pall Mall polite manner, that young Arthur had
no fortune at all, that the Major had asked him (Costigan) to go to the
lawyers ("wherein he knew the scoundthrels have a bill of mine, and I
can't meet them," the Captain parenthetically remarked), and see the
lad's father's will and finally, that an infernal swindle had been
practised upon him by the pair, and that he was resolved either on a
marriage, or on the blood of both of them.

Milly looked very grave and thoughtful, rubbing the white satin shoes.
"Sure, if he's no money, there's no use marrying him, Papa," she said
sententiously.

"Why did the villain say he was a man of prawpertee?" asked Costigan.

"The poor fellow always said he was poor," answered the girl. "'Twas you
would have it he was rich, Papa--and made me agree to take him."

"He should have been explicit and told us his income, Milly," answered
the father. "A young fellow who rides a blood mare, and makes presents
of shawls and bracelets, is an impostor if he has no money;--and as for
his uncle, bedad I'll pull off his wig whenever I see 'um. Bows, here,
shall take a message to him and tell him so. Either it's a marriage, or
he meets me in the field like a man, or I tweak 'um on the nose in front
of his hotel or in the gravel walks of Fairoaks Park before all the
county, bedad."

"Bedad, you may send somebody else with the message," said Bows,
laughing. "I'm a fiddler, not a fighting man, Captain."

"Pooh, you've no spirit, sir," roared the General. "I'll be my own
second, if no one will stand by and see me injured. And I'll take my
case of pistols and shoot 'um in the Coffee-room of the George."

"And so poor Arthur has no money?" sighed out Miss Costigan, rather
plaintively. "Poor lad, he was a good lad too: wild and talking
nonsense, with his verses and pothry and that, but a brave, generous
boy, and indeed I liked him--and he liked me too," she added, rather
softly, and rubbing away at the shoe.

"Why don't you marry him if you like him so?" Mr. Bows said, rather
savagely. "He is not more than ten years younger than you are. His
mother may relent, and you might go and live and have