hope." (He looks steadily at Foker, who, however, continues to suck the
top of his stick in an unconcerned manner.)

Francis. "Hope is the nurse of life."

Bingley. "And her cradle--is the grave."

The Stranger uttered this with the moan of a bassoon in agony, and fixed
his eyes on Pendennis so steadily, that the poor lad was quite put out of
countenance. He thought the whole house must be looking at him; and cast
his eyes down. As soon as ever he raised them Bingley's were at him
again. All through the scene the manager played at him. When he was about
to do a good action, and sent off Francis with his book, so that that
domestic should not witness the deed of benevolence which he meditated,
Bingley marked the page carefully, so that he might continue the perusal
of the volume off the stage if he liked. But all was done in the direct
face of Pendennis, whom the manager was bent upon subjugating. How
relieved the lad was when the scene ended, and Foker, tapping with his
cane, cried out "Bravo, Bingley!"

"Give him a hand, Pendennis; you know every chap likes a hand," Mr. Foker
said; and the good-natured young gentleman, and Pendennis laughing, and
the dragoons in the opposite box, began clapping hands to the best of
their power.

A chamber in Wintersen Castle closed over Tobias's hut and the Stranger
and his boots; and servants appeared bustling about with chairs and
tables--"That's Hicks and Miss Thackthwaite," whispered Foker. "Pretty
girl, ain't she, Pendennis? But stop--hurray--bravo! here's the
Fotheringay."