orrowed Madame Fribsby's irons to give that curly
grace? His white cambric pocket-handkerchief was scented with the most
delicious eau-de-Cologne.

"O gracilis puer,"--cried the Doctor.--"Whither are you bound? I wanted
you to come home to dinner."

"I am engaged to dine at--at Fairoaks," said Mr. Smirke, blushing
faintly and whisking the scented pocket-handkerchief, and his pony
being in waiting, he mounted and rode away simpering down the street.
No accident befell him that day, and he arrived with his tie in the very
best order at Mrs. Pendennis's house.

CHAPTER XVII. Which concludes the first Part of this History

The Curate had gone on his daily errand to Fairoaks, and was upstairs in
Pens study pretending to read with his pupil, in the early part of that
very afternoon when Mrs. Portman, after transacting business with Mrs.
Pybus, had found the weather so exceedingly fine that she pursued her
walk as far as Fairoaks, in order to pay a visit to her dear friend
there. In the course of their conversation, the Rector's lady told
Mrs. Pendennis and the Major a very great secret about the Curate, Mr.
Smirke, which was no less than that he had an attachment, a very old
attachment, which he had long kept quite private.

"And on whom is it that Mr. Smirke has bestowed his heart?" asked Mrs.
Pendennis, with a superb air but rather an inward alarm.

"Why, my dear," the other lady answered, "when he first came and used
to dine at the Rectory, people said we wanted him for Myra, and we were
forced to give up asking him. Then they used to say he was smitten in
another quarter; but I always contradicted it for my part, and said that
you----"

"That I," cried Mrs. Pendennis; "people are very impertinent, I am sure.
Mr. Smirke came here as Arthur's tutor, and I am surprised that anybody
should dare to speak so----"

"'Pon my soul, it is a little too much," the Major said, laying down the
newspaper and the double eye-glass.

"I've no patience with that Mrs. Pybus," Helen continued indignantly.

"I told her there was no truth in it," Mrs. Portman said. "I always
said so, my dear: and now it comes out that my demure gentleman has been
engaged to a young lady--Miss Thompson, of Clapham Common, ever so
long: and I am delighted for my part, and on Myra's account, too, for
an unmarried curate is always objectionable about one's house: and of
course it is strictly private, but I thought I would tell you, as it
might r