would die for her. You know I would," said Miss
Laura, kindling up; "and you call this paltry money an obligation? Oh,
Pen, it's cruel--it's unworthy of you to take it so! If my brother may
not share with me my superfluity, who may?--Mine?--I tell you it was not
mine; it was all mamma's to do with as she chose, and so is everything
I have," said Laura; "my life is hers." And the enthusiastic girl looked
towards the windows of the widow's room, and blessed in her heart the
kind creature within.

Helen was looking, unseen, out of that window towards which Laura's eyes
and heart were turned as she spoke, and was watching her two children
with the deepest interest and emotion, longing and hoping that the
prayer of her life might be fulfilled; and if Laura had spoken as Helen
hoped, who knows what temptations Arthur Pendennis might have been
spared, or what different trials he would have had to undergo? He might
have remained at Fairoaks all his days, and died a country gentleman.
But would he have escaped then? Temptation is an obsequious servant
that has no objection to the country, and we know that it takes up its
lodging in hermitages as well as in cities; and that in the most remote
and inaccessible desert it keeps company with the fugitive solitary.

"Is your life my mother's?" said Pen, beginning to tremble, and speak in
a very agitated manner. "You know, Laura, what the great object of hers
is?" And he took her hand once more.

"What, Arthur?" she said, dropping it, and looking at him, at the window
again, and then dropping her eyes to the ground, so that they avoided
Pen's gaze. She, too, trembled, for she felt that the crisis for which
she had been secretly preparing was come.

"Our mother has one wish above all others in the world, Laura," Pen
said; "and I think you know it. I own to you that she has spoken to me
of it; and if you will fulfil it, dear sister, I am ready. I am but very
young as yet; but I have had so many pains and disappointments, that I
am old and weary. I think I have hardly got a heart to offer. Before I
have almost begun the race in life, I am a tired man. My career has been
a failure; I have been protected by those whom I by right should have
protected. I own that your nobleness and generosity, dear Laura, shame
me, whilst they render me grateful. When I heard from our mother what
you had done for me; that it was you who armed me and bade me go out
for one struggle more; I longed to go an