fifteen hundred a-year to her fortune: but my brother the Major refused
this negotiation, advantageous as it might seem to most persons. "As a
bachelor," he said, "nobody cares how poor I am. I have the happiness to
live with people who are so highly placed in the world, that a few
hundreds or thousands a year more or less can make no difference in the
estimation in which they are pleased to hold me. Miss Hunkle, though a
most respectable lady, is not in possession of either the birth or the
manners, which would entitle her to be received into the sphere in which
I have the honour to move. I shall live and die an old bachelor, John:
and your worthy friend, Miss Hunkle, I have no doubt, will find some more
worthy object of her affection, than a worn-out old soldier on half-pay."
Time showed the correctness of the surmise of the old man of the world;
Miss Hunkle married a young French nobleman, and is now at this moment
living at Lilybank, under the title of Baroness de Carambole, having been
separated from her wild young scapegrace of a Baron very shortly after
their union.

The Major was a great favourite with almost all the little establishment
of Fairoaks. He was as good-natured as he was well bred, and had a
sincere liking and regard for his sister-in-law, whom he pronounced, and
with perfect truth, to be as fine a lady as any in England, and an honour
to the family. Indeed, Mrs. Pendennis's tranquil beauty, her natural
sweetness and kindness, and that simplicity and dignity which a perfect
purity and innocence are sure to bestow upon a handsome woman, rendered
her quite worthy of her brother's praises. I think it is not national
prejudice which makes me believe that a high-bred English lady is the
most complete of all Heaven's subjects in this world. In whom else do you
see so much grace, and so much virtue; so much faith, and so much
tenderness; with such a perfect refinement and chastity? And by high-bred
ladies I don't mean duchesses and countesses. Be they ever so high in