“I desire, sir, that six thousand pounds may be given to my cousin,” Miss Newcome said, blushing deeply. “My dear uncle, the best man in the world, whom I love with all my heart, sir, is in the most dreadful poverty. Do you know where he is, sir? My dear, kind, generous uncle!”—and, kindling as she spoke, and with eyes beaming a bright kindness, and flushing cheeks, and a voice that thrilled to the heart of those two who heard her, Miss Newcome went on to tell of her uncle’s and cousin’s misfortunes, and of her wish, under God, to relieve them. I see before me now the figure of the noble girl as she speaks; the pleased little old lawyer, bobbing his white head, looking up at her with his twinkling eyes—patting his knees, patting his snuff-box—as he sits before his tapes and his deeds, surrounded by a great background of tin boxes.
“And I understand you want this money paid as coming from the family, and not from Miss Newcome?” says Mr. Luce.
“Coming from the family—exactly,” answers Miss Newcome.
Mr. Luce rose up from his old chair—his worn-out old horsehair chair—where he had sat for half a century and listened to many a speaker, very different from this one. “Mr. Pendennis,” he said, “I envy you your journey along with this young lady. I envy you the good news you are going to carry to your friends—and, Miss Newcome, as I am an old—old gentleman who have known your family these sixty years, and saw your father in his long-clothes, may I tell you how heartily and sincerely I—I love and respect you, my dear? When should you wish Mr. Clive Newcome to have his legacy?”
“I think I should like Mr. Pendennis to have it this instant, Mr. Luce, please,” said the young lady—and her veil dropped over her face as she bent her head down, and clasped her hands together for a moment, as if she was praying.
Mr. Luce laughed at her impetuosity; but said that if she was bent upon having the money, it was at her instant service; and before we left the room, Mr. Luce prepared a letter, addressed to Clive Newcome, Esquire, in which he stated, that amongst the books of the late Mrs. Newcome a paper had only just been found, of which a copy was enclosed, and that the family of the late Sir Brian Newcome, desirous to do honour to the wishes of the late Mrs. Newcome, had placed the sum of 6000 pounds at the bank of Messrs. H. W——, at the disposal of Mr. Clive Newcome, of whom Mr. Luce had the honour to sign himself the most obedient servant, etc. And, the letter approved and copied, Mr. Luce said Mr. Pendennis might be the postman thereof; if Miss Newcome so willed it; and, with this document in my pocket, I quitted the lawyer’s chambers, with my good and beautiful young companion.
Our cab had been waiting several hours in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and I asked Miss Ethel whither I now should conduct her?
“Where is Grey Friars?” she said. “Mayn’t I go to see my uncle?”
CHAPTER LXXIX.
In which Old Friends come together
We made the descent of Snowhill, we passed by the miry pens of Smithfield; we travel through the street of St. John, and presently reach the ancient gateway, in Cistercian Square, where lies the old Hospital of Grey Friars. I passed through the gate, my fair young companion on my arm, and made my way to the rooms occupied by brother Newcome.