to dinner; and dear Mrs. Pendennis, if she was
strong enough; and Mr. Arthur, if a humdrum party were not too stupid
for him; and would send a pony-carriage for Mrs. Pendennis; and would
take no denial.

Neither Arthur nor Laura wished to refuse. And Helen, who was, indeed,
somewhat ailing, was glad that the two should have their pleasure; and
would look at them fondly as they set forth, and ask in her heart that
she might not be called away until those two beings whom she loved best
in the world should be joined together. As they went out and crossed
over the bridge, she remembered summer evenings five-and-twenty
years ago, when she, too, had bloomed in her brief prime of love and
happiness. It was all over now. The moon was looking from the purpling
sky, and the stars glittering there, just as they used in the early,
well-remembered evenings. He was lying dead far away, with the billows
rolling between them. Good God! how well she remembered the last look of
his face as they parted. It looked out at her through the vista of long
years, as sad and as clear as then.

So Mr. Pen and Miss Laura found the society at Clavering Park an
uncommonly agreeable resort of summer evenings. Blanche vowed that she
raffoled of Laura; and, very likely, Mr. Pen was pleased with Blanche.
His spirits came back: he laughed and rattled till Laura wondered to
hear him. It was not the same Pen, yawning in a shooting jacket, in the
Fairoaks parlour, who appeared alert and brisk, and smiling and well
dressed, in Lady Clavering's drawing-room. Sometimes they had music.
Laura had a sweet contralto voice, and sang with Blanche, who had had
the best continental instruction, and was charmed to be her friend's
mistress. Sometimes Mr. Pen joined in these concerts, or oftener looked
sweet upon Miss Blanche as she sang. Sometimes they had glees, when
Captain Strong's chest was of vast service, and he boomed out in a
prodigious bass, of which he was not a little proud.

"Good fellow, Strong--ain't he, Miss Bell?" Sir Francis would say
to her. "Plays at ecarte with Lady Clavering--plays anything,
pitch-and-toss, pianoforty, cwibbage if you like. How long do you think
he's been staying with me? He came for a week with a carpet-bag, and
Gad, he's been staying here thwee years. Good fellow, ain't he? Don't
know how he gets a shillin' though, begad I don't, Miss Lauwa."

And yet the Chevalier, if he lost his money to Lady Clavering, always
paid it; and if