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The History of Pendennis, Vol. 2

W >> William Makepeace Thackeray >> The History of Pendennis, Vol. 2




Blanche thought, "Why didn't I tell him that night when Arthur warned
me?"

"Don't refuse her, Harry," cried Lady Clavering. "Take her, take every
thing I have. It's all hers, you know, at my death. This boy's
disinherited."--(Master Frank, who had been looking as scared at the
strange scene, here burst into a loud cry.)--"Take every shilling.
Give me just enough to live, and to go and hide my head with this
child, and to fly from both. Oh, they've both been bad, bad men.
Perhaps he's here now. Don't let me see him. Clavering, you coward,
defend me from him."

Clavering started up at this proposal. "You ain't serious, Jemima? You
don't mean that?" he said. "You won't throw me and Frank over? I
didn't know it, so help me----. Foker I'd no more idea of it than the
dead--until the fellow came and found me out, the d--d escaped convict
scoundrel."

"The what?" said Foker. Blanche gave a scream.

"Yes," screamed out the baronet in his turn, "yes, a d--d runaway
convict--a fellow that forged his father-in-law's name--a d--d
attorney, and killed a fellow in Botany Bay, hang him--and ran into
the Bush, curse him; I wish he'd died there. And he came to me, a good
six years ago and robbed me; and I've been ruining myself to keep him,
the infernal scoundrel! And Pendennis knows it, and Strong knows it,
and that d--d Morgan knows it, and she knows it, ever so long; and I
never would tell it, never: and I kept it from my wife."

"And you saw him, and you didn't kill him, Clavering, you coward?"
said the wife of Amory. "Come away, Frank; your father's a coward. I
am dishonored, but I'm your old mother, and you'll--you'll love me,
won't you?"

Blanche _eploree_, went up to her mother; but Lady Clavering shrank
from her with a sort of terror. "Don't touch me," she said; "you've no
heart; you never had. I see all now. I see why that coward was going
to give up his place in Parliament to Arthur; yes, that coward! and
why you threatened that you would make me give you half Frank's
fortune. And when Arthur offered to marry you without a shilling,
because he wouldn't rob my boy, you left him, and you took poor Harry.
Have nothing to do with her, Harry. You're good, you are. Don't marry
that--that convict's daughter. Come away, Frank, my darling; come to
your poor old mother. We'll hide ourselves; but we're honest, yes, we
are honest."

All this while a strange feeling of exultation had taken possession of
Blanche's mind. That month with poor Harry had been a weary month to
her. All his fortune and splendor scarcely sufficed to make the idea
of himself supportable. She was weaned of his simple ways, and sick of
coaxing and cajoling him.

"Stay, mamma; stay, madam!" she cried out with a gesture, which was
always appropriate, though rather theatrical; "I have no heart? have
I? I keep the secret of my mother's shame. I give up my rights to my
half-brother and my bastard brother--yes, my rights and my fortune. I
don't betray my father, and for this I have no heart. I'll have my
rights now, and the laws of my country shall give them to me. I appeal
to my country's laws--yes, my country's laws! The persecuted one
returns this day. I desire to go to my father." And the little lady
swept round her hand, and thought that she was a heroine.

"You will, will you?" cried out Clavering, with one of his usual
oaths. "I'm a magistrate, and dammy, I'll commit him. Here's a chaise
coming; perhaps it's him. Let him come."

A chaise was indeed coming up the avenue; and the two women shrieked
each their loudest, expecting at that moment to see Altamont arrive.

The door opened, and Mr. Morgan announced Major Pendennis and Mr.
Pendennis, who entered, and found all parties engaged in this fierce
quarrel. A large screen fenced the breakfast-room from the hall; and
it is probable that, according to his custom, Mr. Morgan had taken
advantage of the screen to make himself acquainted with all
that occurred.

It had been arranged on the previous day that the young people should
ride; and at the appointed hour in the afternoon, Mr. Foker's horses
arrived from the Clavering Arms. But Miss Blanche did not accompany
him on this occasion. Pen came out and shook hands with him on the
door-steps; and Harry Foker rode away, followed by his groom, in
mourning. The whole transactions which have occupied the most active
part of our history were debated by the parties concerned during those
two or three hours. Many counsels had been given, stories told, and
compromises suggested; and at the end, Harry Foker rode away, with a
sad "God bless you!" from Pen. There was a dreary dinner at Clavering
Park, at which the lately installed butler did not attend; and the
ladies were both absent. After dinner, Pen said, "I will walk down to
Clavering and see if he is come." And he walked through the dark
avenue, across the bridge and road by his own cottage--the once quiet
and familiar fields of which were flaming with the kilns and forges of
the artificers employed on the new railroad works; and so he entered
the town, and made for the Clavering Arms.

It was past midnight when he returned to Clavering Park. He was
exceedingly pale and agitated. "Is Lady Clavering up yet?" he asked.
Yes, she was in her own sitting-room. He went up to her, and there
found the poor lady in a piteous state of tears and agitation. "It is
I--Arthur," he said, looking in; and entering, he took her hand very
affectionately and kissed it. "You were always the kindest of friends
to me, dear Lady Clavering," he said. "I love you very much. I have
got some news for you."

"Don't call me by that name," she said, pressing his hand. "You were
always a good boy, Arthur; and it's kind of you to come now--very
kind. You sometimes look very like your ma, my dear."

"Dear, good _Lady Clavering_," Arthur repeated, with particular
emphasis, "something very strange has happened."

"Has any thing happened to him?" gasped Lady Clavering. "O, it's
horrid to think I should be glad of it--horrid!"

"He is well. He has been and is gone, my dear lady. Don't alarm
yourself--he is gone, and you are Lady Clavering still."

"Is it true? what he sometimes said to me," she screamed out--"that
he--"

"He was married before he married you," said Pen. "He has confessed it
to-night. He will never come back." There came another shriek from
Lady Clavering, as she flung her arms round Pen, and kissed him, and
burst into tears on his shoulder.

What Pen had to tell, through a multiplicity of sobs and
interruptions, must be compressed briefly, for behold our prescribed
limit is reached, and our tale is coming to its end. With the Branch
Coach from the railroad, which had succeeded the old Alacrity and
Perseverance, Amory arrived, and was set down at the Clavering Arms.
He ordered his dinner at the place under his assumed name of Altamont,
and, being of a jovial turn, he welcomed the landlord, who was nothing
loth, to a share of his wine. Having extracted from Mr. Lightfoot all
the news regarding the family at the Park, and found, from examining
his host, that Mrs. Lightfoot, as she said, had kept his counsel, he
called for more wine of Mr. Lightfoot, and at the end of this
symposium, both being greatly excited, went into Mrs. Lightfoot's bar.

She was there taking tea with her friend, Madame Fribsby; and
Lightfoot was by this time in such a happy state as not to be
surprised at any thing which might occur, so that, when Altamont shook
hands with Mrs. Lightfoot as an old acquaintance, the recognition did
not appear to him to be in the least strange, but only a reasonable
cause for further drinking. The gentlemen partook then of
brandy-and-water, which they offered to the ladies, not heeding the
terrified looks of one or the other.

While they were so engaged, at about six o'clock in the evening, Mr.
Morgan, Sir Francis Clavering's new man, came in, and was requested to
drink. He selected his favorite beverage, and the parties engaged in
general conversation.

After awhile Mr. Lightfoot began to doze. Mr. Morgan had repeatedly
given hints to Mrs. Fribsby to quit the premises; but that lady,
strangely fascinated, and terrified, it would seem, or persuaded by
Mrs. Lightfoot not to go, kept her place. Her persistence
occasioned much annoyance to Mr. Morgan, who vented his displeasure in
such language as gave pain to Mrs. Lightfoot, and caused Mr. Altamont
to say, that he was a rum customer, and not polite to the sex.

The altercation between the two gentlemen became very painful to the
women, especially to Mrs. Lightfoot, who did every thing to soothe Mr.
Morgan; and, under pretense of giving a pipe-light to the stranger,
she handed him a paper on which she had privily written the words, "He
knows you. Go." There may have been something suspicious in her manner
of handing, or in her guest's of reading the paper; for when he got up
a short time afterward, and said he would go to bed, Morgan rose too,
with a laugh, and said it was too early to go to bed.

The stranger then said, he would go to his bedroom. Morgan said he
would show him the way.

At this the guest said, "Come up. I've got a brace of pistols up there
to blow out the brains of any traitor or skulking spy," and glared so
fiercely upon Morgan, that the latter, seizing hold of Lightfoot by
the collar, and waking him, said, "John Amory, I arrest you in the
Queen's name. Stand by me, Lightfoot. This capture is worth a
thousand pounds."

He put forward his hand as if to seize his prisoner, but the other,
doubling his fist, gave Morgan with his left hand so fierce a blow on
the chest, that it knocked him back behind Mr. Lightfoot. That
gentleman, who was athletic and courageous, said he would knock his
guest's head off, and prepared to do so, as the stranger, tearing off
his coat, and cursing both of his opponents, roared to them to
come on.

But with a piercing scream Mrs. Lightfoot flung herself before her
husband, while with another and louder shriek Madame Fribsby ran to
the stranger, and calling out "Armstrong, Johnny Armstrong!" seized
hold of his naked arm, on which a blue tattooing of a heart and M.F.
were visible.

The ejaculation of Madame Fribsby seemed to astound and sober the
stranger. He looked down upon her, and cried out, "It's Polly,
by Jove."

Mrs. Fribsby continued to exclaim, "This is not Amory. This is Johnny
Armstrong, my wicked--wicked husband, married to me in St. Martin's
Church, mate on board an Indiaman, and he left me two months after,
the wicked wretch. This is John Armstrong--here's the mark on his arm
which he made for me."

The stranger said, "I am John Armstrong, sure enough, Polly. I'm John
Armstrong, Amory, Altamont--and let 'em all come on, and try what they
can do against a British sailor. Hurray, who's for it!"

Morgan still called, "Arrest him!" But Mrs. Lightfoot said, "Arrest
him! arrest you, you mean spy! What! stop the marriage and ruin my
lady, and take away the Clavering Arms from us?"

"_Did_ he say he'd take away the Clavering Arms from us?" asked Mr.
Lightfoot, turning round, "Hang him, I'll throttle him." "Keep him,
darling, till the coach passes to the up train. It'll he here now
directly."

"D--him, I'll choke him if he stirs," said Lightfoot. And so they
kept Morgan until the coach came, and Mr. Amory or Armstrong went away
hack to London.

Morgan had followed him: but of this event Arthur Pendennis did not
inform Lady Clavering, and left her invoking blessings upon him at her
son's door, going to kiss him as he was asleep. It had been a
busy day.

We have to chronicle the events of but one day more, and that was a
day when Mr. Arthur, attired in a new hat, a new blue frock-coat, and
blue handkerchief, in a new fancy waistcoat, new boots, and new
shirt-studs (presented by the Right Honorable the Countess Dowager of
Rockminster), made his appearance at a solitary breakfast-table, in
Clavering Park, where he could scarce eat a single morsel of food. Two
letters were laid by his worship's plate; and he chose to open the
first, which was in a round clerk-like hand, in preference to the
second more familiar superscription.

Note 1 ran as follows:

"GARBANZOS WINE COMPANY, SHEPHERD'S INN.--_Monday_.

"MY DEAR PENDENNIS--In congratulating you heartily upon the event
which is to make you happy for life, I send my very kindest
remembrances to Mrs. Pendennis, whom I hope to know even longer than I
have already known her. And when I call her attention to the fact,
that one of the most necessary articles to her husband's comfort is
_pure sherry_, I know I shall have her for a customer for your
worship's sake.

"But I have to speak to you of other than my own concerns. Yesterday
afternoon, a certain J.A. arrived at my chambers from Clavering, which
he had left under circumstances of which you are doubtless now aware.
In spite of our difference, I could not but give him food and shelter
(and he partook freely both of the Garbanzos Amontillado and the
Toboso ham), and he told me what had happened to him, and many other
surprising adventures. The rascal married at sixteen, and has
repeatedly since performed that ceremony--in Sidney, in New Zealand,
in South America, in Newcastle, he says first, before he knew our poor
friend the milliner. He is a perfect Don Juan.

"And it seemed as if the commendatore had at last overtaken him, for,
as we were at our meal, there came three heavy knocks at my outer
door, which made our friend start. I have sustained a siege or two
here, and went to my usual place to reconnoiter. Thank my stars I have
not a bill out in the world, and besides, _those_ gentry do not come
in that way. I found that it was your uncle's late valet, Morgan, and
a policeman (I think a sham policeman), and they said they had a
warrant to take the person of John Armstrong, alias Amory, alias
Altamont, a runaway convict, and threatened to break in the oak. Now,
sir, in my own days of captivity I had discovered a little passage
along the gutter into Bows and Costigan's window, and I sent Jack
Alias along this covered way, not without terror of his life, for it
had grown very cranky; and then, after a parley, let in Mons. Morgan
and friend.

"The rascal had been instructed about that covered way, for he made
for the room instantly, telling the policeman to go down stairs and
keep the gate; and he charged up my little staircase as if he had
known, the premises. As he was going out of the window we heard a
voice that you know, from Bow's garret, saying, 'Who are ye, and hwhat
the divvle are ye at? You'd betther leave the gutther; bedad there's a
man killed himself already.'

"And as Morgan, crossing over and looking into the darkness, was
trying to see whether this awful news was true, he took a broom-stick,
and with a vigorous dash broke down the pipe of communication--and
told me this morning, with great glee, that he was reminded of that
'aisy sthratagem by remembering his dorling Emilie, when she acted the
pawrt of Cora in the Plee--and by the bridge in Pezawro, bedad: I wish
that scoundrel Morgan had been on the bridge when the general tried
his 'sthratagem.'

"If I hear more of Jack Alias I will tell you. He has got plenty of
money still, and I wanted him to send some to our poor friend the
milliner; but the scoundrel laughed and said, he had no more than he
wanted, but offered to give any body a lock of his hair. Farewell--be
happy! and believe me always truly yours.

"E. STRONG."

"And now for the other letter," said Pen. "Dear old fellow!" and he
kissed the seal before he broke it.

"WARRINGTON, _Tuesday_.

"I must not let the day pass over without saying a God bless you, to
both of you. May heaven make you happy, dear Arthur, and dear Laura. I
think, Pen, that you have the best wife in the world; and pray that,
as such, you will cherish her and tend her. The chambers will be
lonely without you, dear Pen; but if I am tired, I shall have a new
home to go to in the house of my brother and sister. I am practicing
in the nursery here, in order to prepare for the part of Uncle George.
Farewell! make your wedding tour, and come back to your affectionate

"G. W."

Pendennis and his wife read this letter together after Doctor
Portman's breakfast was over, and the guests were gone; and when the
carriage was waiting amidst the crowd at the doctor's outer gate. But
the wicket led into the church-yard of St Mary's where the bells were
pealing with all their might, and it was here, over Helen's green
grass, that Arthur showed his wife George's letter. For which of those
two--for grief was it or for happiness, that Laura's tears abundantly
fell on the paper? And once more, in the presence of the sacred dust,
she kissed and blessed her Arthur.

There was only one marriage on that day at Clavering Church; for in
spite of Blanche's sacrifices for her dearest mother, honest Harry
Foker could not pardon the woman who had deceived her husband, and
justly argued that she would deceive him again. He went to the
Pyramids and Syria, and there left his malady behind him, and returned
with a fine beard, and a supply of tarbooshes and nargillies, with
which he regales all his friends. He lives splendidly, and through
Pen's mediation, gets his wine from the celebrated vintages of the
Duke of Garbanzos.

As for poor Cos, his fate has been mentioned in an early part of this
story. No very glorious end could be expected to such a career. Morgan
is one of the most respectable men in the parish of St. James's, and
in the present political movement has pronounced himself like a man
and a Briton. And Bows--on the demise of Mr. Piper, who played the
organ at Clavering, little Mrs. Sam Huxter, who has the entire command
of Doctor Portman, brought Bows down from London to contest the organ
chair loft, and her candidate carried the chair. When Sir Francis
Clavering quitted this worthless life, the same little indefatigable
canvasser took the borough by storm, and it is now represented by
Arthur Pendennis, Esq.. Blanche Amory, it is well known, married at
Paris, and the saloons of Madame la Comtesse de Montmorenci de
Valentinois were among the most _suivis_ of that capital. The duel
between the count and the young and fiery Representative of the
Mountain, Alcide de Mirobo, arose solely from the latter questioning
at the Club the titles borne by the former nobleman. Madame de
Montmorenci de Valentinois traveled after the adventure: and Bungay
bought her poems, and published them, with the countess's coronet
emblazoned on the countess's work.

Major Pendennis became very serious in his last days, and was never
so happy as when Laura was reading to him with her sweet voice, or
listening to his stories. For this sweet lady is the friend of the young
and the old: and her life is always passed in making other lives
happy.

"And what sort of a husband would this Pendennis be?" many a
reader will ask, doubting the happiness of such a marriage, and the
fortune of Laura. The querists, if they meet her, are referred to that
lady herself, who, seeing his faults and wayward moods--seeing and
owning that there are men better than he--loves him always with the
most constant affection. His children or their mother have never heard
a harsh word from him; and when his fits of moodiness and solitude
are over, welcome him back with a never-failing regard and confidence.
His friend is his friend still--entirely heart-whole. That malady is
never fatal to a sound organ. And George goes through his part of
godpapa perfectly, and lives alone. If Mr. Pen's works have procured
him more reputation than has been acquired by his abler friend, whom
no one knows, George lives contented without the fame. If the best
men do not draw the great prizes in life, we know it has been so settled
by the Ordainer of the lottery. We own, and see daily, how the false
and worthless live and prosper, while the good are called away, and the
dear and young perish untimely--we perceive in every man's life the
maimed happiness, the frequent falling, the bootless endeavor, the
struggle of Right and Wrong, in which the strong often succumb and
the swift fail: we see flowers of good blooming in foul places, as, in the
most lofty and splendid fortunes, flaws of vice and meanness, and stains
of evil; and, knowing how mean the best of us is, let us give a hand of
charity to Arthur Pendennis, with all his faults and shortcomings, who
does not claim to be a hero but only a man and a brother.

THE END.

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