run
out of the room. I liked Miss Newcome after seeing her with the poor
little thing. She looked so handsome as she walked with it! I longed to
have it myself.
Pendennis. Tout vient a fin, a qui sait----
Mrs. P. Don't be silly. What a dreadful dreadful place this great world
of yours is, Arthur; where husbands do not seem to care for their wives;
where mothers do not love their children; where children love their
nurses best; where men talk what they call gallantry!
Pendennis. What?
Mrs. P. Yes, such as that dreary, languid, pale, bald, cadaverous,
leering man whispered to me. Oh, how I dislike him! I am sure he is
unkind to his wife. I am sure he has a bad temper; and if there is any
excuse for----
Pendennis. For what?
Mrs. P. For nothing. But you heard yourself that he had a bad temper,
and spoke sneeringly to his wife. What could make her marry him?
Pendennis. Money, and the desire of papa and mamma. For the same reason
Clive's flame, poor Miss Newcome, was brought out to-day; that vacant
seat at her side was for Lord Farintosh, who did not come. And the
Marquis not being present, the Baron took his innings. Did you not see
how tender he was to her, and how fierce poor Clive looked?
Mrs. P. Lord Highgate was very attentive to Miss Newcome, was he?
Pendennis. And some years ago, Lord Highgate was breaking his heart
about whom do you think? about Lady Clara Pulleyn, our hostess of last
night. He was Jack Belsize then, a younger son, plunged over head
and ears in debt; and of course there could be no marriage. Clive was
present at Baden when a terrible scene took place, and carried off poor
Jack to Switzerland and Italy, where he remained till his father died,
and he came into the title in which he rejoices. And now he is off with
the old love, Laura, and on with the new. Why do you look at me so? Are
you thinking that other people have been in love two or three times too?
Mrs. P. I am thinking that I should not like to live in London, Arthur.
And this was all that Mrs. Laura could be brought to say. When this
young woman chooses to be silent, there is no power that can extract a
word from her. It is true that she is generally in the right; but that
is only the more aggravating. Indeed, what can be more provoking, after
a dispute with your wife, than to find it is you, and not she, who has
been in the wrong?
Sir Barnes Newcome politely caused us to understand that the
entertainment of which
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