night.

Alone with Helen, Laura gave an account of the scene, and gave up her
friend henceforth. "O Mamma," she said, "you were right; Blanche, who
seems so soft and so kind, is, as you have said, selfish and cruel. She
who is always speaking of her affections can have no heart. No honest
girl would afflict a mother so, or torture a dependant; and--and, I give
her up from this day, and I will have no other friend but you."

On this the two ladies went through the osculatory ceremony which they
were in the habit of performing, and Mrs. Pendennis got a great secret
comfort from the little quarrel--for Laura's confession seemed to say,
"That girl can never be a wife for Pen, for she is light-minded and
heartless, and quite unworthy of our noble hero. He will be sure to find
out her unworthiness for his own part, and then he will be saved from
this flighty creature, and awake out of his delusion."

But Miss Laura did not tell Mrs. Pendennis, perhaps did not acknowledge
to herself, what had been the real cause of the day's quarrel. Being in
a very wicked mood, and bent upon mischief everywhere, the little wicked
Muse of a Blanche had very soon begun her tricks. Her darling Laura
had come to pass a long day; and as they were sitting in her own room
together, had chosen to bring the conversation round to the subject of
Mr. Pen.

"I am afraid he is sadly fickle," Miss Blanche observed; "Mrs. Pybus,
and many more Clavering people, have told us all about the actress."

"I was quite a child when it happened, and I don't know anything about
it," Laura answered, blushing very much.

"He used her very ill," Blanche said, wagging her little head. "He was
false to her."

"I am sure he was not," Laura cried out; "he acted most generously by
her; he wanted to give up everything to marry her. It was she that was
false to him. He nearly broke his heart about it: he----"

"I thought you didn't know anything about the story, dearest,"
interposed Miss Blanche.

"Mamma has said so," said Laura.

"Well, he is very clever," continued the other little dear, "What a
sweet poet he is! Have you ever read his poems?"

"Only the 'Fisherman and the Diver,' which he translated for us, and his
Prize Poem, which didn't get the prize; and, indeed, I thought it very
pompous and prosy," Laura said, laughing.

"Has he never written you any poems, then, love?" asked Miss Amory.

"No, my dear," said Miss Bell.

Blanche ran up to her friend, ki