18

Considerable time has elapsed since we have seen our respectable friend, old Mr. Osborne of Russell Square. He has not been the happiest of mortals since last we met him. Events have occurred which have not improved his temper. He lived a solitary life in a company of his daughter Jane.

The Misses Dobbin lived with their father at a fine villa at Denmark Hill, where there were beautiful graperies and peach-trees which delighted little Georgy Osborne. The Misses Dobbin, who drove often to Brompton to see our dear Amelia, came sometimes to Russell Square too, to pay a visit to their old acquaintance Miss Osborne. I believe it was in consequence of the commands of their brother the Major in India that they paid attention to Mrs. George; for the Major, the godfather and guardian of Amelia’s little boy, still hoped that the child’s grandfather might be induced to relent towards him and acknowledge him for the sake of his son. The Misses Dobbin kept Miss Osborne acquainted with the state of Amelia’s affairs. One day, after great entreaties on the part of the Misses Dobbin, Amelia allowed little George to go and pass a day with them at Denmark Hill – a part of which day she spent herself in writing to the Major in India.

She congratulated him on the happy news which his sisters had just conveyed to her. She prayed for his prosperity and that of the bride he had chosen. She thanked him for a thousand thousand kind offices and proofs of stead fast friendship. She told him the last news about little Georgy, and how he was gone to spend that very day with his sisters in the country.

That night, when Georgy came back in the pony-carriage in which he rejoiced, and in which he was driven by Dobbin’s old coachman, he had round his neck a fine gold chain and watch. He said an old lady, not pretty, had given it him, who cried and kissed him a great deal. But he didn’t like her. He liked grapes very much. And he only liked his mamma.

Miss Osborne came back to give her father his dinner. He had made a good speculation in the City, and was rather in a good humour that day, and chanced to remark the agitation under which she laboured. “What’s the matter, Miss Osborne?” he deigned to say.

The woman burst into tears. “Oh, sir,” she said, “I’ve seen little George. He is as beautiful as an angel – and so like him!”

The old man opposite to her did not say a word, but flushed up and began to tremble in every limb.

* * *

Dobbin was in the meanwhile in a state of the most odious tranquility. But the truth is, neither beauty nor fashion could conquer him. Our honest friend had but one idea of a woman in his head. A gentle little woman in black, with large eyes and brown hair, seldom speaking, save when spoken to, and then in a voice – a soft young mother tending an infant and beckoning the Major up with a smile to look at him – a rosy-cheeked lass coming singing into the room in Russell Square or hanging on George Osborne’s arm, happy and loving – there was but this image that filled our honest Major’s mind, by day and by night, and reigned over it always.

We have said how the two Misses Dobbin and Amelia wrote him letters from England. “Your sister has just kindly visited me,” Amelia wrote in her letter, “and informed me of an interesting event, upon which I beg to offer my most sincere congratulations. I hope the young lady to whom I hear you are to be united will in every respect prove worthy of one who is himself all kindness and goodness. The poor widow has only her prayers to offer and her cordial wishes for your prosperity! I am sure the widow and the child whom you have ever protected and loved will always have a corner in your heart.”

Amelia’s letter had fallen as a blank upon him. No fidelity, no constant truth and passion, could move her into warmth. She would not see that he loved her. Tossing in his bed, he spoke out to her. “Good God, Amelia!” he said, “don’t you know that I only love you in the world – you, who are a stone to me – you, whom I tended through months and months of illness and grief, and who bade me farewell with a smile on your face, and forgot me before the door shut between us!”

Had there been some kind gentle soul near at hand who could read and appreciate this silent generous heart, who knows but that the reign of Amelia might have been over, and that friend William’s love might have flowed into a kinder channel? But there was none.

A couple of weeks later there came another ship from Europe bringing letters on board, and amongst them some more for the heartless man. These were home letters bearing an earlier postmark than that of the former packets, and as Major Dobbin recognized among his the handwriting of his sister.

Major Dobbin, in the moonlight, rushing towards the house with a swift step and a very agitated countenance, went up to the windows of the Colonel’s bedchamber.

“O’Dowd – Colonel!” said Dobbin and kept up a great shouting.

“What is it, Dob, me boy?” said the Colonel, expecting there was a fire in the station, or that the route had come from headquarters.

“I–I must have leave of absence. I must go to England – on the most urgent private affairs,” Dobbin said. “I want to be off – now – to-night,” Dobbin continued; and the Colonel getting up, came out to parley with him.

In the postscript of Miss Dobbin’s cross-letter, the Major had just come upon a paragraph, to the following effect: – ”I drove yesterday to see your old acquaintance, Mrs. Osborne. The little boy, your godson, is certainly a fine child, though forward, and inclined to be saucy and self-willed. But we have taken notice of him as you wish it, and have introduced him to his aunt, Miss O., who was rather pleased with him. Perhaps his grandpapa, not the bankrupt one, who is almost doting, but Mr. Osborne, of Russell Square, may be induced to relent towards the child of your friend. And Amelia will not be ill-disposed to give him up. The widow is consoled, and is about to marry a reverend gentleman. Mamma sends her love with that of your affectionate, Ann Dobbin.”

19

Sir Pitt Crawley had done more than repair fences and restore lodges on the Queen’s Crawley estate. Like a wise man he had set to work to rebuild the injured popularity of his house and stop up the gaps and ruins in which his name had been left by his disreputable and thriftless old predecessor.

On Christmas Day a great family gathering took place. All the Crawleys from the Rectory came to dine.

The children were very good friends. Pitt Binkie was too little a dog for such a big dog as Rawdon to play with; and Matilda being only a girl, of course not fit companion for a young gentleman who was near eight years old, and going into jackets very soon. He took the command of this small party at once – the little girl and the little boy following him about with great reverence. His happiness and pleasure in the country were extreme. He resisted being kissed by the Misses Crawley, but he allowed Lady Jane sometimes to embrace him, and it was by her side that he liked to sit – by her side rather than by his mother. For Rebecca, seeing that tenderness was the fashion, called Rawdon to her one evening and stooped down and kissed him in the presence of all the ladies.

He looked her full in the face after the operation, trembling and turning very red, as his wont was when moved. “You never kiss me at home, Mamma,” he said, at which there was a general silence and consternation and a by no means pleasant look in Becky’s eyes.

Rawdon was fond of his sister-in-law, for her regard for his son. Lady Jane and Becky did not get on quite so well at this visit as on occasion of the former one, when the Colonel’s wife was bent upon pleasing. Those speeches of the child struck rather a chill. Perhaps Sir Pitt was rather too attentive to her.

Also before this merry Christmas was over, the Baronet had screwed up courage enough to give his brother another draft on his bankers, and for no less a sum than a hundred pounds, an act which caused Sir Pitt cruel pangs at first, but which made him glow afterwards to think himself one of the most generous of men.

Lady Jane’s sweetness and kindness had inspired Rebecca with such a contempt for her ladyship as the little woman found no small difficulty in concealing. That sort of goodness and simplicity which Lady Jane possessed annoyed our friend Becky, and it was impossible for her at times not to show, or to let the other divine, her scorn.

On the occasion of his first Speaker’s dinner, Sir Pitt took the opportunity of appearing before his sister-in-law in his uniform – that old diplomatic suit. Becky complimented him upon that dress and admired him almost as much as his own wife and children, to whom he displayed himself before he set out. She said that it was only the thoroughbred gentleman who could wear the Court suit with advantage.

When he was gone, Mrs. Becky made a caricature of his figure, which she showed to Lord Steyne when he arrived. His lordship carried off the sketch, delighted with the accuracy of the resemblance. He had done Sir Pitt Crawley the honour to meet him at Mrs. Becky’s house and had been most gracious to the new Baronet and member. Pitt was struck too by the deference with which the great Peer treated his sister-in-law, by her ease and sprightliness in the conversation, and by the delight with which the other men of the party listened to her talk. Lord

Steyne made no doubt but that the Baronet had only commenced his career in public life.

Lord Steyne was an extremely important and very rich member of the nobility, he became Becky’s cynical entrée into the highest peaks of English society and government. She was with him for fame, status, and money.

In the midst of these intrigues and fine parties and wise and brilliant personages Rawdon felt himself more and more isolated every day. He was allowed to go to the club more; to dine abroad with bachelor friends; to come and go when he liked, without any questions being asked. And he and Rawdon the younger many a time would walk to Gaunt Street and sit with the lady and the children there while Sir Pitt was closeted with Rebecca.

And poor Lady Jane was aware that Rebecca had captivated her husband, although she and Mrs. Rawdon my-deared and my-loved each other every day they met.