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.