any a
long year past; and he was as much her boy now as in those early days
of which we have given but an outline. There were Clive's pictures of
himself and his father over her little mantelpiece, near which she sat
in comfort and warmth by the winter fire which his bounty supplied.

Mrs. Mason remembered Miss Newcome, prompted thereto by the hints of her
little maid, who was much younger, and had a more faithful memory than
her mistress. Why, Sarah Mason would have forgotten the pheasants
whose very tails decorated the chimney-glass, had not Keziah, the maid,
reminded her that the young lady was the donor. Then she recollected her
benefactor, and asked after her father, the Baronet; and wondered, for
her part, why her boy, the Colonel, was not made baronet, and why his
brother had the property? Her father was a very good man; though Mrs.
Mason had heard he was not much liked in those parts. "Dead and gone,
was he, poor man?" (This came in reply to a hint from Keziah, the
attendant, bawled in the old lady's ears, who was very deaf.) "Well,
well, we must all go; and if we were all good, like the Colonel, what
was the use of staying? I hope his wife will be good. I am sure such a
good man deserves one," added Mrs. Mason.

The ladies thought the old woman doting, led thereto by the remark of
Keziah, the maid, that Mrs. Mason have a lost her memory. And she asked
who the other bonny lady was, and Ethel told her that Mrs. Pendennis was
a friend of the Colonel's and Clive's.

"Oh, Clive's friend! Well, she was a pretty lady, and he was a dear
pretty boy. He drew those pictures; and he took off me in my cap, with
my old cat and all--my poor old cat that's buried this ever so long
ago."

"She has had a letter from the Colonel, miss," cries out Keziah.
"Haven't you had a letter from the Colonel, mum? It came only
yesterday." And Keziah takes out the letter and shows it to the ladies.
They read as follows:--

"London, Feb. 12, 184-.

"My Dear Old Mason--I have just heard from a friend of mine who has been
staying in your neighbourhood, that you are well and happy, and that you
have been making inquiries after your young scapegrace, Tom Newcome, who
is well and happy too, and who proposes to be happier still before any
very long time is over.

"The letter which was written to me about you was sent to me in Belgium,
at Brussels, where I have been living--a town near the place where
the famous Battle of Waterloo was foug