scowled at me over her
crutch, but without a sign of recognition. "What an awful countenance
that old woman has!" Laura whispered as we retreated out of that gloomy
presence.

And Doubt (as its wont is) whispered too a question in my ear, "Is
it for her brothers and sisters only that Miss Ethel is sacrificing
herself? Is it not for the coronet, and the triumph, and the fine
houses?" "When two motives may actuate a friend, we surely may try and
believe in the good one," says Laura. "But, but I am glad Clive does
not marry her--poor fellow--he would not have been happy with her. She
belongs to this great world: she has spent all her life in it: Clive
would have entered into it very likely in her train; and you know, sir,
it is not good that we should be our husbands' superiors," adds Mrs.
Laura, with a curtsey.

She presently pronounced that the air was very hot in the rooms, and in
fact wanted to go home to see her child. As we passed out, we saw Sir
Barnes Newcome, eagerly smiling, smirking, bowing, and in the fondest
conversation with his sister and Lord Farintosh. By Sir Barnes presently
brushed Lieutenant-General Sir George Tufto, K.C.B., who, when he saw
on whose foot he had trodden, grunted out, "H'm, beg your pardon!" and
turning his back on Barnes, forthwith began complimenting Ethel and the
Marquis. "Served with your lordship's father in Spain; glad to make your
lordship's acquaintance," says Sir George. Ethel bows to us as we pass
out of the rooms, and we hear no more of Sir George's conversation.

In the cloak-room sits Lady Clara Newcome, with a gentleman bending over
her, just in such an attitude as the bride is in Hogarth's "Marriage a
la Mode" as the counsellor talks to her. Lady Clara starts up as a crowd
of blushes come into her wan face, and tries to smile, and rises to
greet my wife, and says something about its being so dreadfully hot
in the upper rooms, and so very tedious waiting for the carriages. The
gentleman advances towards me with a military stride, and says, "How do
you do, Mr. Pendennis? How's our young friend, the painter?" I answer
Lord Highgate civilly enough, whereas my wife will scarce speak a word
in reply to Lady Clara Newcome.

Lady Clara asked us to her ball, which my wife declined altogether to
attend. Sir Barnes published a series of quite splendid entertainments
on the happy occasion of his sister's betrothal. We read the names of
all the clan Farintosh in the Morning Post, a