own door briskly on herself and her outraged | tency to defend his own honor, his desire dignity. 66 To allude to that!" she said, when the door was closed. "Oh it was cruel of him to remind me of it;" and she looked up at George's picture, which hung there as usual, with the portrait of the boy underneath. "It was cruel of him. If I had forgiven it, ought he to have spoken? No. And it was from his own lips that I know how wicked and groundless my jealousy was; and that you were pure. Oh, yes, you were pure, my saint in heaven!" not to have his affairs meddled with, his intention, in fine, to rebel against the major, when the colloquy - rather a long and stormy one-was put an end to in the simplest way possible, namely, by the arrival of Mrs. Becky, with a porter from the Elephant Hotel, in charge of her very meager baggage. She greeted her host with affectionate respect, and made a shrinking, but amicable, salutation to Major Dobbin, who, as her instinct assured her at once, was her ene She paced the room trembling and indig-my, and had been speaking against her; and nant. She went and leaned on the chest of drawers over which the picture hung, and gazed and gazed at it. Its eyes seemed to look down on her with a reproach that deepened as she looked. The early, dear, dear memories of that brief prime of love rushed back upon her. The wound which years had scarcely cicatrized bled afresh; and oh, how bitterly! She could not bear the reproaches of the husband there before her. It couldn't be. Never, never. Poor Dobbin; poor old William? That unlucky word had undone the work of many a year-the long, laborious edifice of a life of love and constancy-raised too upon what secret and hidden foundations, wherein lay buried passions, uncounted struggles, unknown sacrifices-a little word was spoken, and down fell the fair palace of hope-one word, and away flew the bird, which he had been trying all his life to lure! the bustle and clatter consequent upon her arrival brought Amelia out of her room, who went up and embraced her guest with the greatest warmth, and took no notice of the major, except to fling him an angry look— the most unjust and scornful glance that had perhaps ever appeared in that poor little woman's face since she was born. But she had private reasons of her own, and was bent on being angry with him. And Dobbin, indignant at the injustice, not at the defeat, went off, making her a bow quite as haughty as the killing courtesy with which the little woman chose to bid him farewell. He being gone, Emmy was particularly lively and affectionate to Rebecca, and bustled about the apartments, and installed her guest in her room with an eagerness and activity seldom exhibited by our placid little friend. But when an act of injustice is to be done, especially by weak people, it is best that it should be done quickly; and Emmy thought that she was displaying a great deal of firmness, and proper feeling and veneration for the late Captain Osborne in her present behavior. William, though he saw by Amelia's looks that a great crisis had come, nevertheless continued to implore Sedley in the most energetic terms to beware of Rebecca: and he eagerly, almost frantically, adjured Jos not to receive her. He besought Jos eager- Georgy came in from the fêtes for dinnerly to inquire at least regarding her: told him time, and found four covers laid as usual; how he had heard that she was in the com- but one of the plates was occupied by a pany of gamblers, and people of ill repute: lady, instead of by Major Dobbin. "Hullo! pointed out what evil she had done in former where's Dob?" the young gentleman asked, days: how she and Crawley had misled with his usual simplicity of language. "Mapoor George into ruin: how she was now jor Dobbin is dining out, I suppose," his parted from her husband, by her own con- mother said; and drawing the boy to her, fession, and, perhaps, for good reason. What kissed him a great deal, and put his hair off a dangerous companion she would be for his his forehead, and introduced him to Mrs. sister who knew nothing of the affairs of the Crawley. "This is my boy, Rebecca," world! William implored Jos, with all the Mrs. Osborne said-as much as to say-can eloquence which he could bring to bear, and the world produce any thing like that? a great deal more energy than this quiet gen- Becky looked at him with rapture, and tleman was ordinarily in the habit of show-pressed his hand fondly. "Dear boy," she ing, to keep Rebecca out of his household. said, "he is just like my Emotion Had he been less violent, or more dex-choked her further utterance; but Amelia terous, he might have succeeded in his sup- understood, as well as if she had spoken, plications to Jos; but the civilian was not a that Becky was thinking of her own blessed little jealous of the airs of superiority which child. However, the company of her friend the major constantly exhibited toward him, consoled Mrs. Crawley, and she ate a very as he fancied (indeed he had imparted his good dinner. opinions to Mr. Kirsch, the courier, whose bills Major Dobbin checked on this journey, and who sided with his master), and he began a blustering speech about his compe During the repast, she had occasion to speak several times, when Georgy eyed her and listened to her. At the dessert Emmy was gone out to superintend further domes tic arrangements: Jos was in his great chair lodgings all the lights in the Sedley tenedozing over Galignani: Georgy and the new ment were put out. He could not see her arrival sat close to each other: he had con- till the morning. I don't know what sort of tinued to look at her knowingly more than a night's rest he had with this frightful seonce, and at last he laid down the nut-crack-cret in bed with him. ers. "I say," said Georgy. "What do you say?" Becky said, laughing. "You're the lady I saw in the mask at the Rouge et Noir." "Hush! you little sly creature," Becky said, taking up his hand and kissing it. "Your uncle was there too, and mamma mustn't know." "Oh, no! not by no means," answered the little fellow. "You see we are quite good friends already," Becky said to Emmy, who now reentered; and it must be owned that Mrs. Osborne had introduced a most judicious and amiable companion into her house. At the earliest convenient hour in the morning he sent his servant across the way with a note, saying, that he wished very particularly to speak with her. A message came back to say, that Mrs. Osborne was exceedingly unwell, and was keeping her room. She, too, had been awake all that night. She had been thinking of a thing which had agitated her mind a hundred times before. A hundred times on the point of yielding, she had shrunk back from a sacrifice which she felt was too much for her. She couldn't, in spite of his love and constancy, and her own acknowledged regard, respect, and gratitude. What are benefits, what is constancy, or merit? One curl of a girl's ringlet, one hair of a whisker, will turn the scale against them all in a minute. They did not weigh with Emmy more than with other women. She had tried them; wanted to make them pass; could not; and the pitiless little woman had found a pretext, and determined to be free. When at length, in the afternoon, the major gained admission to Amelia, instead of the cordial and affectionate greeting to which he had been accustomed now for many a long day, he received the salutation of a courtesy, and of a little gloved hand, retracted the moment after it was accorded to him. William, in a state of great indignation, though still unaware of all the treason that was in store for him, walked about the town wildly until he fell upon the Secretary of Legation, Tapeworm, who invited him to dinner. As they were discussing that meal, he took occasion to ask the secretary whether he knew any thing about a certain Mrs. Rawdon Crawley, who had, he believed, made some noise in London; and then Tapeworm, who of course knew all the London gossip, and was besides a relative of Lady Gaunt, poured out into the astonished major's ears such a history about Becky and her husband as astonished the Rebecca, too, was in the room, and adquerist, and supplied all the points of this vanced to meet him with a smile and an exnarrative, for it was at that very table years tended hand. Dobbin drew back rather conago that the present writer had the pleasure fusedly. "I-I beg your pardon, ma'am,” of hearing-Tufto, Steyne, the Crawleys, he said; "but I am bound to tell you that it and their history-every thing connected is not as your friend that I am come here with Becky and her previous life, passed under the record of the bitter diplomatist. He knew every thing and a great deal besides, about all the world; in a word, he made the most astounding revelations to the simple-hearted major. When Dobbin said that Mrs. Osborne and Mr. Sedley had taken her into their house, he burst into a peal of laughter which shocked the major, and asked if they had not better send into the prison, and take in one or two of the gentlemen in shaved heads and yellow jackets, who swept the streets of Pumpernickel, chained in pairs, to board and lodge, and act as tutor to that little scapegrace Georgy. This information astonished and horrified the major not a little. It had been agreed in the morning (before meeting with Rebecca) that Amelia should go to the court ball that night. There would be the place to tell her. The major went home and dressed himself in his uniform, and repaired to court, in hopes to see Mrs. Osborne. She never came. When he returned to his now." Pooh! damn; don't let us have this sort of thing!" Jos cried out, alarmed, and anxious to get rid of a scene. 66 "I wonder what Major Dobbin has to say against Rebecca?" Amelia said in a low, clear voice, with a slight quiver in it, and a very determined look about the eyes. "I will not have this sort of thing in my house," Jos again interposed. "I say, I will not have it: and Dobbin, I beg, sir, you'll stop it." And he looked round trembling, and turning very red, and gave a great puff, and made for his door. "Dear friend!" Rebecca said with angelic sweetness, " 'do hear what Major Dobbin has to say against me." "I will not hear it, I say," squeaked out Jos at the top of his voice, and, gathering up his dressing-gown, was gone. "We are only two women," Amelia said. "You can speak now, sir." "This manner toward me is one which scarcely becomes you, Amelia," the major answered haughtily; "nor, I believe, am I guilty of habitual harshness to women. It is not a pleasure to me to do the duty which I am come to do." “Pray, proceed with it quickly, if you please, Major Dobbin," said Amelia, who was more and more in a pet. The expression of Dobbin's face, as she spoke in this imperious manner, was not pleasant. "I came to say-and as you stay, Mrs. Crawley, I must say it in your presencethat I think you-you ought not to form a member of the family of my friends. A lady who is separated from her husband, who travels not under her own name, who frequents public gaming-tables-" "It was to the ball I went," cried out Becky. "is not a fit companion for Mrs. Osborne and her son," Dobbin went on: "and I may add that there are people here who know you, and who profess to know that regarding your conduct about which I don't even wish to speak before-before Mrs. Osborne." back, Amelia," and she came. Dobbin bowed to Mrs. Crawley, as he shut the door upon her. Amelia looked at him, leaning against the glass: her face and her lips were quite white. "I was confused when I spoke just now," the major said, after a pause; "and I misused the word authority." "You did," said Amelia, with her teeth chattering. "At least I have claims to be heard," Dobbin continued. "It is generous to remind me of our obligations to you," the woman answered. 66 The claims I mean, are those left me by George's father," William said. "Yes, you insulted his memory. You did yesterday. You know you did. And I will never forgive you. Never!" said Amelia. She shot out each little sentence in a tremor of anger and emotion. afterward when-when you are at leisure, and your conscience will withdraw this accusation. It does even now." Amelia held down her head. "You don't mean that, Amelia?" William said, sadly. "You don't mean that these words, uttered in a hurried moment, are to weigh against a whole life's devotion. "Yours is a very modest and convenient I think that George's memory has not been sort of calumny, Major Dobbin," Rebecca injured by the way in which I have dealt said. "You leave me under the weight of with it, and if we are come to bandying rean accusation which, after all, is unsaid. proaches, I at least merit none from his What is it? Is it unfaithfulness to my hus-widow and the mother of his son. Reflect, band? I scorn it, and defy any body to prove it-I defy you, I say. My honor is as untouched as that of the bitterest enemy who ever maligned me. Is it of being poor, forsaken, wretched, that you accuse me? Yes, I am guilty of those faults, and punished for them every day. Let me go, Emmy. It is only to suppose that I have not met you, and I am no worse to-day than I was yesterday. It is only to suppose that the night is over and the poor wanderer is on her way. Don't you remember the song we used to sing in old, dear old days? I have been wandering ever since then-a poor castaway, scorned for being miserable, and insulted because I am alone. Let me go: my stay here interferes with the plans of this gentleman." "Indeed it does, madam," said the major. "If I have any authority in this house-" "Authority, none!" broke out Amelia. "Rebecca, you stay with me. I won't desert you, because you have been persecuted, or insult you, because-because Major Dobbin chooses to do so. Come away, dear." And the two women made toward their door. William opened it. As they were going out, however, he took Amelia's hand, and said "Will you stay a moment and speak "It is not that speech of yesterday," he continued, “ which moves you. That is but the pretext, Amelia, or I have loved you and watched you for fifteen years in vain. Have I not learned in that time to read all your feelings, and look into your thoughts? I know what your heart is capable of: it can cling faithfully to a recollection, and cherish a fancy; but it can't feel such an attachment as mine deserves to mate with, and such as I would have won from a woman more generous than you. No, you are not worthy of the love which I have devoted to you. I knew all along that the prize I had set my life on was not worth the winning; that I was a fool, with fond fancies too, bartering away my all of truth and ardor against your little feeble remnant of love. I will bargain no more: I withdraw. I find no fault with you. You are very good-natured, and have done your best; but you couldn't-you couldn't reach up to the height of the attachment which I bore you, and which a loftier soul than yours might have been proud to share. Good-by, Amelia! I have watched your struggle. Let it end. We are both weary of it." Amelia stood scared and silent as William thus suddenly broke the chain by which she held him, and declared his independence and superiority. He had placed himself at her feet so long that the poor little woman had been accustomed to trample upon him. She didn't wish to marry him, but she wished to keep him. She wished to give him nothing, but that he should give her all. It is a bargain not unfrequently levied in love. William's sally had quite broken and cast her down. Her assault was long since over and beaten back. "Am I to understand then-that you are going-away-William?" she said. He gave a sad laugh. "I went once before," he said, "and came back after twelve years. We were young then, Amelia. Good-by. I have spent enough of my life at this play." While they had been talking, the door into Mrs. Osborne's room had opened ever so little; indeed, Becky had kept a hold of the handle, and had turned it on the instant when Dobbin quitted it; and she heard every word of the conversation that had passed between these two. What a noble heart that man has," she thought, "and how shamefully that woman plays with it." She admired Dobbin; she bore him no rancor for the part he had taken against her. It was an open move in the game, and played fairly. Ah!" she thought, "if I could have had such a husband as that-a man with a heart and brains too! I would not have minded his large feet;" and, running into her room, she absolutely bethought herself of something, and wrote him a note, beseeching him to stop for a few days-not to think of going-and that she could serve him with A. 66 66 "Not coming back!" cried out Georgy, jumping up. Stay here, sir," roared out Jos. Stay, Georgy," said his mother, with a very sad face. The boy stopped; kicked about the room; jumped up and down from the window-seat with his knees, and showed every symptom of uneasiness and curiosity. The horses were put to. The baggage was strapped on. Francis came out with his master's sword, and cane, and umbrella tied up together, and laid them in the well, and his desk and old tin cocked-hat case, which he placed under the seat. Francis brought out the stained old blue cloak, lined with red camlet, which had wrapped the owner up any time these fifteen years, and had manchen Sturm erlebt, as a favorite song of those days said. It had been new for the campaign of Waterloo, and had covered George and William after the night of Quatre Bras. The parting was over. Once more poor William walked to the door and was gone; Old Burcke, the landlord of the lodgings, and the little widow, the author of all this came out, then Francis, with more packwork, had her will, and had won her vic-ages-final packages-then Major William. tory, and was left to enjoy it as she best might. Let the ladies envy her triumph. At the romantic hour of dinner, Mr. Georgy made his appearance, and again remarked the absence of "Old Dob." The meal was eaten in silence by the party; Jos's appetite not being diminished, but Emmy taking nothing at all. After the meal, Georgy was lolling in the cushions of the old window-a large window, with three sides of glass abutting from the gable, and commanding on one side the Market Place, where the Elephant is, and in front the opposite side of "Goswell-street over the way," like the immortal casement of Mr. Pickwick,-Georgy, I say, was lolling in this window, his mother being busy hard by, when he remarked symptoms of movement at the major's house on the other side of the street. "Hullo!" said he, "there's Dob's trap -they are bringing it out of the courtyard." The "trap" in question was a carriage which the major had bought for six pounds sterling, and about which they used to rally him a good deal. Burcke wanted to kiss him. The major was adored by all people with whom he had to do. It was with difficulty he could escape from this demonstration of attachment. "By Jove, 1 will go !" screamed out George. "Give him this," said Becky, quite interested, and put a paper into the boy's hand. He had rushed down the stairs and flung across the street in a minute. The yellow postillion was cracking his whip gently. William had got into the carriage, released from the embraces of his landlord. George bounded in afterward and flung his arms round the major's neck (as they saw from the window), and began asking him multiplied questions. Then he felt in his waistcoat pocket, and gave him a note. William seized at it rather eagerly, he opened it trembling, but instantly his countenance changed, and he tore the paper in two and dropped it out of the carriage. He kissed Georgy on the head, and the boy got out, doubling his fists into his eyes, and with the aid of Francis. He lingered with his hand on the panel. "Fort, Schwager!" The yel Emmy's maid heard him howling again during the night, and brought him some preserved apricots to console him. She mingled her lamentations with his. All the poor, all the humble, all honest folks, all good men who knew him, loved that kindhearted and simple gentleman. As for Emmy, had she not done her duty? She had her picture of George for a consolation. low postillion cracked his whip prodigiously, open carriage. He asked little parties, and up sprang Francis to the box, away went invented festivities to do her honor. Tapethe schimmels, and Dobbin with his head worm, the secretary of legation, who had on his breast. He never looked up as they abused her so cruelly, came to dine with passed under Amelia's window; and Georgy, Jos, and then came every day to pay his left alone in the street, burst out crying in respects to Becky. Poor Emmy, who was the face of all the crowd. never very talkative, and more glum and silent than ever after Dobbin's departure, was quite forgotten when this superior genius made her appearance. The French minister was as much charmed with her as his English rival. The German ladies, never particularly squeamish as regards morals, especially in English people, were delighted with the cleverness and wit of Mrs. Osborne's charming friend; and though she did not ask to go to court, yet the most august and transparent personages there heard of her fascinations. and were quite curious to know her. When it became known that she was noble, of an ancient English family, that her husband was a colonel of the guard, excellenz, and governor of an island, only separated from his lady by one of those trifling differences which are of little account in a country where 66 Werther" is still read, and the "Wahlverwandschaften" of Goethe is considered an edifying moral book, nobody thought of refusing to receive her in the very highest society of the little duchy, and the ladies were even more ready to call her du, and to swear eternal friendship for her, than they had CHAPTER LXVII. WHICH CONTAINS BIRTHS, MARRIAGES, AND WHATEVER Becky's private plan might be by which Dobbin's true love was to be crowned with success, the little woman thought that the secret might keep, and indeed, being by no means so much interested about any body's welfare as about her own, she had a great number of things pertaining to herself to consider, and which concerned her a great deal more than Major Dobbin's happiness in this life. She found herself suddenly and unexpectedly in snug, comfortable quarters, surrounded by friends, kindness, and goodnatured, simple people, such as she had not met with for many a long day; and, wanderer as she was, by force and inclination, there were moments when rest was pleasant to her; as the most hardened Arab that ever careered across the desert over the hump of a dromedary, likes to repose sometimes under the date-trees by the water, or to come into the cities, walk in the bazaars, refresh himself in the baths, and say his prayers in the mosques, before he goes out again marauding. Jos's tents and pilau were pleasant to this little Ishmaelite. She picketed her steed, hung up her weapons, and warmed herself comfortably by his fire. The halt in that roving, restless life, was inexpressibly soothing and pleasant to her. So, pleased herself, she tried with all her might to please every body, and we know that she was eminent and successful as a practitioner in the art of giving pleasure. As for Jos, even in that little interview in the garret at the Elephant Inn, she had found means to win back a great deal of his good will. In the course of a week the civilian was her sworn slave and frantic admirer. He didn't go to sleep after dinner, as his custom was, in the much less lively society of Amelia. He drove out with her in his been to bestow the same inestimable benefits upon Amelia. Love and Liberty are interpreted by those simple Germans in a way which honest folks in Yorkshire and Somersetshire little understand, and a lady might, in some philosophic and civilized towns, be divorced ever so many times from her respective husbands, and keep her character in society. Jos's house never was so pleasant, since he had a house of his own, as Rebecca caused it to be. She sung, she played, she laughed, she talked in two or three languages, she brought every body to the house, and she made Jos believe that it was his own great social talents and wit which gathered the great society of the place round about him. As for Emmy, who found herself not in the least mistress of her own house, except when the bills were to be paid, Becky soon discovered the way to soothe and please her. She talked to her perpetually about Major Dobbin sent about his business, and made no scruple of declaring her admiration for that excellent, high-minded gentleman, and of telling Emmy that she had behaved most cruelly regarding him. Emmy defended her conduct, and showed that it was dictated only by the purest religious principles; that a woman once, &c., and to such an angel as him whom she had had the good fortune to marry, was married forever; but she had no objection to hear the major |