ought a peculiar radiance and happiness beamed from her
bright face.

* * * * * *

Some subsequent occurrences in the history of this branch of the Newcome
family I am enabled to report from the testimony of the same informant
who has just given us an account of her own feelings and life. Miss
Ethel and my wife were now in daily communication, and "my-dearesting"
each other with that female fervour, which, cold men of the world as
we are--not only chary of warm expressions of friendship, but averse to
entertaining warm feelings at all--we surely must admire in persons of
the inferior sex, whose loves grow up and reach the skies in a night;
who kiss, embrace, console, call each other by Christian names, in that
sweet, kindly sisterhood of Misfortune and Compassion who are always
entering into partnership here in life. I say the world is full of Miss
Nightingales; and we, sick and wounded in our private Scutaris, have
countless nurse-tenders. I did not see my wife ministering to the
afflicted family at Newcome Park; but I can fancy her there amongst the
women and children, her prudent counsel, her thousand gentle offices,
her apt pity and cheerfulness, the love and truth glowing in her face,
and inspiring her words, movements, demeanour.

Mrs. Pendennis's husband for his part did not attempt to console
Sir Barnes Newcome Newcome, Baronet. I never professed to have a
halfpennyworth of pity at that gentleman's command. Florac, who owed
Barnes his principality and his present comforts in life, did make some
futile efforts at condolence, but was received by the Baronet with such
fierceness, and evident ill-humour, that he did not care to repeat his
visits, and allowed him to vent his curses and peevishness on his own
immediate dependents. We used to ask Laura on her return to Rosebury
from her charity visits to Newcome about the poor suffering master of
the house. She faltered and stammered in describing him and what she
heard of him; she smiled, I grieve to say, for this unfortunate lady
cannot help having a sense of humour; and we could not help laughing
outright sometimes at the idea of that discomfited wretch, that
overbearing creature overborne in his turn--which laughter Mrs. Laura
used to chide as very naughty and unfeeling. When we went into Newcome
the landlord of the King's Arms looked knowing and quizzical: Tom Potts
grinned at me and rubbed his hands. "This business serves the paper