In whatever he undertakes it is so contrived that the reader shall in some degree sympathise with him.

And so it is with poor old Costigan, the drunken Irish captain, Miss Fotheringay's papa.

He was not a pleasant person.

"We have witnessed the deshabille of Major Pendennis," says our author; "will any one wish to be valet-de-chambre to our other hero, Costigan?
It would seem that the captain, before issuing from his bedroom, scented himself with otto of whisky." Yet there is a kindliness about him which softens our hearts, though in truth he is very careful that the kindness shall always be shown to himself.
Among these people Pen makes his way to the end of the novel, coming near to shipwreck on various occasions, and always deserving the shipwreck which he has almost encountered.

Then there will arise the question whether it might not have been better that he should be altogether shipwrecked, rather than housed comfortably with such a wife as Laura, and left to that enjoyment of happiness forever after, which is the normal heaven prepared for heroes and heroines who have done their work well through three volumes.