"Tuesday night."

I gave back the paper with a sigh to the finder. "It is but a wish of
Mrs. Newcome, my dear Miss Ethel," I said. "Pardon me, if I say, I think
I know your elder brother too well to supposes that he will fulfil it."

"He will fulfil it, sir, I am sure he will," Miss Newcome said, in a
haughty manner. "He would do as much without being asked, I am certain
he would, did he know the depth of my dear uncle's misfortune. Barnes is
in London now, and----"

"And you will write to him? I know what the answer will be."

"I will go to him this very day, Mr. Pendennis! I will go to my dear,
dear uncle. I cannot bear to think of him in that place," cried the
young lady, the tears starting into her honest eyes. "It was the will of
Heaven. Oh, God be thanked for it! Had we found my grandmamma's letter
earlier, Barnes would have paid the legacy immediately, and the money
would have gone in that dreadful bankruptcy. I will go to Barnes to-day.
Will you come with me? Won't you come to your old friends? We may be at
his--at Clive's house this evening; and oh, praise be to God! there need
be no more want in his family."

"My dear friend, I will go with you round the world on such an errand,"
I said, kissing her hand. How beautiful she looked; the generous colour
rose in her face, her voice thrilled with happiness. The music
of Christmas church bells leaped up at this moment with joyful
gratulations; the face of the old house, before which we stood talking,
shone out in the morning sun.

"You will come I thank you! I must run and tell Madame de Florac," cried
the happy young lady, and we entered the house together. "How came you
to be kissing Ethel's hand, sir; and what is the meaning of this early
visit?" asks Mrs. Laura, as soon as I had returned to my own apartments.

"Martha, get me a carpet-bag! I am going to London in an hour," cries
Mr. Pendennis. If I had kissed Ethel's hand jus now, delighted at the
news which she brought to me, was not one a thousand times dearer to me,
as happy as her friend? I know who prayed with a thankful heart that day
as we sped, in the almost solitary train, towards London.

CHAPTER LXXVIII. In which the Author goes on a Pleasant Errand

Before I parted with Miss Newcome at the station, she made me promise
to see her on the morrow at an early hour at her brother's house; and
having bidden her farewell and repaired to my own solitary residence,
which presented but a drea