me.

Mr. Luce rose up from his old chair--his worn-out old horsehair
chair--where he had sat for half a century and listened to many a
speaker, very different from this one. "Mr. Pendennis," he said, "I envy
you your journey along with this young lady. I envy you the good news
you are going to carry to your friends--and, Miss Newcome, as I am an
old--old gentleman who have known your family these sixty years, and
saw your father in his long-clothes, may I tell you how heartily and
sincerely I--I love and respect you, my dear? When should you wish Mr.
Clive Newcome to have his legacy?"

"I think I should like Mr. Pendennis to have it this instant, Mr. Luce,
please," said the young lady--and her veil dropped over her face as she
bent her head down, and clasped her hands together for a moment, as if
she was praying.

Mr. Luce laughed at her impetuosity; but said that if she was bent upon
having the money, it was at her instant service; and before we left the
room, Mr. Luce prepared a letter, addressed to Clive Newcome, Esquire,
in which he stated, that amongst the books of the late Mrs. Newcome a
paper had only just been found, of which a copy was enclosed, and that
the family of the late Sir Brian Newcome, desirous to do honour to the
wishes of the late Mrs. Newcome, had placed the sum of 6000 pounds at
the bank of Messrs. H. W----, at the disposal of Mr. Clive Newcome, of
whom Mr. Luce had the honour to sign himself the most obedient servant,
etc. And, the letter approved and copied, Mr. Luce said Mr. Pendennis
might be the postman thereof; if Miss Newcome so willed it; and, with
this document in my pocket, I quitted the lawyer's chambers, with my
good and beautiful young companion.

Our cab had been waiting several hours in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and I
asked Miss Ethel whither I now should conduct her?

"Where is Grey Friars?" she said. "Mayn't I go to see my uncle?"

CHAPTER LXXIX. In which Old Friends come together

We made the descent of Snowhill, we passed by the miry pens of
Smithfield; we travel through the street of St. John, and presently
reach the ancient gateway, in Cistercian Square, where lies the old
Hospital of Grey Friars. I passed through the gate, my fair young
companion on my arm, and made my way to the rooms occupied by brother
Newcome.

As we traversed the court the Poor Brothers were coming from dinner. A
couple of score, or more, of old gentlemen in black gowns, issued from
the doo