of last night's tobacco fumes as the descendant of an ancient line sat in this delectable place accommodated with an old copy of Bell's Life in London," much blotted with beer, the polite Major Pendennis walked into the apartment.

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So it's you, old boy?" asked the Baronet, thinking that Mr. Moss Abrams had arrived with the money.

"How do you do, Sir Francis Clavering? I wanted to see you, and followed you here," said the Major, at sight of whom the other's countenance fell.

Now that he had his opponent before him, the Major was determined to make a brisk and sudden attack upon him, and went into action at once. "I know," he continued, "who is the exceedingly disreputable person for whom you took me, Clavering; and the errand which brought you here."

"It ain't your business, is it?" asked the Baronet, with a sulky and deprecatory look. "Why are you following me about, and taking the command and meddling in my affairs, Major Pendennis? I've never done you any harm, have I? I've never had your money. And I don't choose to be dodged about in this way, and domineered over. I don't choose it, and I won't have it. If Lady Clavering has any proposal to make to me, let it be done in the regular way, and through the lawyers. I'd rather not have you."

"I am not come from Lady Clavering," the Major said, "but of my own accord, to try and remonstrate with you, Clavering, and see if you can be kept from ruin. It is but a month ago that you swore on your honor, and wanted to get a Bible to strengthen the oath, that you would accept no more bills, but content yourself with the allowance which Lady Clavering gives you. All your debts were paid with that proviso, and you have broken it; this Mr. Abrams has a bill of yours for sixty pounds."

"It's an old bill. I take my solemn oath it's an old bill,” shrieked out the Baronet.

"You drew it yesterday, and you dated it three months back purposely. By Gad, Clavering, you sicken me with lies, I can't help telling you so. I've no patience with you, by Gad. You cheat everybody, yourself included. I've seen a deal of the world, but I never met your equal at humbugging. It's my belief you had rather lie than not.'

"Have you come here, you old, old beast, to tempt me to - to pitch into you, and - knock your old head off?" said the Baronet, with a poisonous look of hatred at the Major.

"What, sir?" shouted out the old Major, rising to his feet

and clasping his cane, and looking so fiercely, that the Baronet's tone instantly changed towards him.

No, no," said Clavering, piteously; "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to be angry, or say anything unkind, only you're so damned harsh to me, Major Pendennis. What is it you want of me? Why have you been hunting me so? Do you want money out of me too? By Jove, you know I've not got a shilling," and so Clavering, according to his custom, passed from a curse into a whimper.

Major Pendennis saw, from the other's tone, that Clavering knew his secret was in the Major's hands.

"I've no errand from anybody, or no design upon you," Pendennis said, "but an endeavor, if it's not too late, to save you and your family from utter ruin, through the infernal recklessness of your courses. I know your secret

"I didn't know it when I married her; upon my oath I didn't know it till the dd scoundrel came back and told me himself; and it's the misery about that which makes me so reckless, Pendennis; indeed it is," the Baronet cried, clasping his hands.

"I knew your secret from the very first day when I saw Amory come drunk into your dining-room in Grosvenor Place. I never forget faces. I remember that fellow in Sydney a convict, and he remembers me. I know his trial, the date of his marriage, and of his reported death in the bush. I could swear to him. And I know you are no more married to Lady Clavering than I am. I've kept your secret well enough, for I've not told a single soul that I know it, not your wife, not yourself till now."

"Poor Lady C., it would cut her up dreadfully," whimpered Sir Francis; and it wasn't my fault, Major; you know it wasn't."

"Rather than allow you to go on ruining her as you do, I will tell her, Clavering, and tell all the world too; that is what I swear I will do, unless I can come to some terms with you, and put some curb on your infernal folly. By play, debt, and extravagance of all kinds, you've got through half your wife's fortune, and that of her legitimate heirs, mind - her legitimate heirs. Here it must stop. You can't live together. You're not fit to live in a great house like Clavering; and before three years more were over, would not leave a shilling to carry on. I've settled what must be done. You shall have six hundred a year; you shall go abroad and live on that. You must give up Parliament, and get on as well as you can. If you refuse,

I give you my word I'll make the real state of things known to-morrow; I'll swear to Amory, who, when identified, will go back to the country from whence he came, and will rid the widow of you and himself together. And so that boy of yours loses at once all title to old Snell's property, and it goes to your wife's daughter. Ain't I making myself pretty clearly understood?"

"You wouldn't be so cruel to that poor boy, would you, Pendennis?" asked the father, pleading piteously; "hang it, think about him. He's a nice boy; though he's dev'lish wild, I own - he's dev'lish wild."

"It's you who are cruel to him," said the old moralist. "Why, sir, you'll ruin him yourself inevitably in three years.” "Yes, but perhaps I won't have such dev'lish bad luck, you know; the luck must turn and I'll reform, by Gad, I'll reform. And if you were to split on me, it would cut up my wife so; you know it would, most infernally."

"To be parted from you," said the old Major, with a sneer; "you know she won't live with you again."

"But why can't Lady C. live abroad, or at Bath, or at Tunbridge, or at the doose, and I go on here?" Clavering continued. "I like being here better than abroad, and I like being in Parliament. It's dev'lish convenient being in Parliament. There's very few seats like mine left; and if I gave it 'em, I should not wonder the Ministry would give me an island to govern, or some dev'lish good thing; for you know I'm a gentleman of dev'lish good family, and have a handle to my name, and—and that sort of thing, Major Pendennis. Eh, don't you see? Don't you think they'd give me something dev'lish good if I was to play my cards well? And then, you know, I'd save money, and be kept out of the way of the confounded hells and rouge et noir and and so I'd rather not give up Parliament, please." For at one instant to hate and defy a man, at the next to weep before him, and at the next to be perfectly confidential and friendly with him, was not an unusual process with our versatile-minded Baronet.

"As for your seat in Parliament," the Major said, with something of a blush on his cheek, and a certain tremor, which the other did not see, you must part with that, Sir Francis Clavering, to to me."

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"What! are you going into the House, Major Pendennis?" "No-not I; but my nephew, Arthur, is a very clever fellow, and would make a figure there: and when Clavering had two Members, his father might very likely have been

one; and said.

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and I should like Arthur to be there," the Major

Dammy, does he know it, too?" cried out Clavering. "Nobody knows anything out of this room," Pendennis answered; and if you do this favor for me, I hold my tongue. If not, I'm a man of my word, and will do what I have said."

"I say, Major," said Sir Francis, with a peculiarly humble smile, "you — you couldn't get me my first quarter in advance, could you, like the best of fellows? You can do anything with Lady Clavering; and, upon my oath, I'll take up that bill of Abrams. business

The little dam scoundrel, I know he'll do me in the he always does; and if you could do this for me, we'd see, Major."

"And I think your best plan would be to go down in September to Clavering to shoot, and take my nephew with you, and introduce him. Yes, that will be the best time. And we will try and manage about the advance." (Arthur may lend him that, thought old Pendennis. Confound him, a seat in Parliament is worth a hundred and fifty pounds.) And, Clavering, you understand, of course, my nephew knows nothing about this business. You have a mind to retire he is a Clavering man and a good representative for the borough; you introduce him, and your people vote for him

you see.

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"When can you get me the hundred and fifty, Major? When shall I come and see you? Will you be at home this evening or to-morrow morning? Will you have anything here? They've got some dev'lish good bitters in the bar. I often have a glass of bitters, it sets one up so."

The old Major would take no refreshment; but rose and took his leave of the Baronet, who walked with him to the door of the "Wheel of Fortune," and then strolled into the bar, where he took a glass of gin and bitters with the landlady there and a gentleman connected with the ring (who boarded at the "Wheel of F.") coming in, he and Sir Francis Clavering and the landlord talked about the fights and the news of the sporting world in general; and at length Mr. Moss Abrams arrived with the proceeds of the Baronet's bill, from which his own handsome commission was deducted, and out of the remainder Sir Francis "stood" a dinner at Greenwich to his distinguished friend, and passed the evening gayly at Vauxhall.

Meanwhile Major Pendennis, calling a cab in Piccadilly, drove to Lamb Court, Temple, where he speedily was closeted with his nephew in deep conversation.

After their talk they parted on very good terms, and it was in consequence of that unreported conversation, whereof the reader nevertheless can pretty well guess the bearing, that Arthur expressed himself as we have heard in the colloquy with Warrington, which is reported in the last chapter.

When a man is tempted to do a tempting thing, he can find a hundred ingenious reasons for gratifying his liking and Arthur thought very much that he would like to be in Parliament, and that he would like to distinguish himself there, and that he need not care much what side he took, as there was falsehood and truth on every side. And on this and on other matters he thought he would compromise with his conscience, and that Sadduceeism was a very convenient and good-humored profession of faith.

CHAPTER XXV.

PHILLIS AND CORYDON.

ON a picturesque common in the neighborhood of Tunbridge Wells, Lady Clavering had found a pretty villa, whither she retired after her conjugal disputes at the end of that unlucky London season. Miss Amory, of course, accompanied her mother, and Master Clavering came home for the holidays, with whom Blanche's chief occupation was to fight and quarrel. But this was only a home pastime, and the young schoolboy was not fond of home sports. He found cricket, and horses, and plenty of friends at Tunbridge. The good-natured Begum's house was filled with a constant society of young gentlemen of thirteen, who ate and drank much too copiously of tarts and champagne, who rode races on the lawn, and frightened the fond mother, who smoked and made themselves sick, and the dining-room unbearable to Miss Blanche. She did not like the society of young gentlemen of thirteen.

As for that fair young creature, any change as long as it was change was pleasant to her; and for a week or two she would have liked poverty and a cottage, and bread and cheese; and, for a night, perhaps, a dungeon and bread and water, and so the move to Tunbridge was by no means unwelcome to her. She wandered in the woods, and sketched trees and farmhouses; she read French novels habitually; she drove into Tunbridge Wells pretty often, and to any play, or ball, or con