young Arthur, whom he treated as his son, whom he called his son, would
ever be guilty of conduct so revolting to every idaya of honour and
humanity.

He went up and embraced Pen after speaking. He cried, and wiped his eye
with one large dirty hand as he clasped Pen with the other. Arthur
shuddered in that grasp, and thought of his uncle at home. His
father-in-law looked unusually dirty and shabby; the odour of
whisky-and-water was even more decided than in common. How was he to
bring that man and his mother together? He trembled when he thought that
he had absolutely written to Costigan (enclosing to him a sovereign, the
loan of which the worthy gentleman had need), and saying that one day he
hoped to sign himself his affectionate son, Arthur Pendennis. He was glad
to get away from Chatteris that day; from Miss Rouncy the confidante;
from the old toping father-in-law; from the divine Emily herself. "O,
Emily, Emily," he cried inwardly, as he rattled homewards on Rebecca,
"you little know what sacrifices I am making for you!--for you who are
always so cold, so cautious, so mistrustful;" and he thought of a
character in Pope to whom he had often involuntarily compared her.

Pen never rode over to Chatteris upon a certain errand, but the Major
found out on what errand the boy had been. Faithful to his plan, Major
Pendennis gave his nephew no let or hindrance; but somehow the constant
feeling that the senior's eye was upon him, an uneasy shame attendant
upon that inevitable confession which the evening's conversation would be
sure to elicit in the most natural simple manner, made Pen go less
frequently to sigh away his soul at the feet of his charmer than he had
been wont to do previous to his uncle's arrival. There was no use trying
to deceive him; there was no pretext of dining with Smirke, or reading
Greek plays with Foker; Pen felt, when he returned from one of his flying