ile we have said little about Clive, who in truth was somehow
in the background in this flourishing Newcome group. To please the best
father in the world; the kindest old friend who endowed his niece with
the best part of his savings; to settle that question about marriage
and have an end of it;--Clive Newcome had taken a pretty and fond young
girl, who respected and admired him beyond all men, and who heartily
desired to make him happy. To do as much would not his father have
stripped his coat from his back,--have put his head under Juggernaut's
chariot-wheel, have sacrificed any ease, comfort, or pleasure for the
youngster's benefit? One great passion he had had and closed the
account of it: a worldly ambitious girl--how foolishly worshipped and
passionately beloved no matter--had played with him for years; had flung
him away when a dissolute suitor with a great fortune and title had
offered himself. Was he to whine and despair because a jilt had fooled
him? He had too much pride and courage for any such submission; he would
accept the lot in life which was offered to him, no undesirable one
surely; he would fulfil the wish of his father's heart, and cheer his
kind declining years. In this way the marriage was brought about. It was
but a whisper to Rosey in the drawing-room, a start and a blush from the
little girl as he took the little willing hand, a kiss for her from her
delighted old father-in-law, a twinkle in good old James's eyes,
and double embrace from the Campaigner as she stood over them in a
benedictory attitude;--expressing her surprise at an event for which she
had been jockeying ever since she set eyes on young Newcome; and calling
upon Heaven to bless her children. So, as a good thing when it is to
be done had best be done quickly, these worthy folks went off almost
straightway to a clergyman, and were married out of hand--to the
astonishment of Captains Hoby and Goby when they came to hear of the
event. Well, my gallant young painter and friend of my boyhood! if my
wife chooses to be angry at your marriage, shall her husband not wish
you happy?

Suppose we had married our first loves, others of us, were we the
happier now? Ask Mr. Pendennis, who sulked in his tents when his
Costigan, his Briseis, was ravished from him. Ask poor George
Warrington, who had his own way, Heaven help him! There was no need why
Clive should turn monk because number one refused him; and, that charmer
removed, why he should n