value of such a wife. They had credit in| plenty, but they had bills also in abundance, and labored under a scarcity of ready money. Did these debt-difficulties affect Rawdon's good spirits? No. Every body in Vanity Fair must have remarked how well those live who are comfortably and thoroughly in debt how they deny themselves nothing: how jolly and easy they are in their minds. Rawdon and his wife had the very best apartments at the inn at Brighton; the landlord, as he brought in the first dish, bowed before them as to his greatest customers: and Rawdon abused the dinners and wine with an audacity which no grandee in the land could surpass. Long custom, a manly appearance, faultless boots and clothes, and a happy fierceness of manner, will often help a man as much as a great balance at the banker's. The two wedding parties met constantly in each other's apartments. After two or three nights the gentlemen, of an evening, had a little piquet, as their wives sate and chatted apart. This pastime, and the arrival of Jos Sedley, who made his appearance in his grand open carriage, and who played a few games at billiards with Captain Crawley, replenished Rawdon's purse somewhat, and gave him the benefit of that ready money for which the greatest spirits are sometimes at a stand-still. So the three gentlemen walked down to see the Lightning coach come in. Punctual to the minute-the coach crowded inside and out, the guard blowing his accustomed tune on the horn-the Lightning came tearing down the street, and pulled up at the coachoffice. "Hullo! there's old Dobbin," George cried, quite delighted to see his old friend perched on the roof; and whose promised visit to Brighton had been delayed until now. "How are you, old fellow? Glad you're come down. Emmy'll be delighted to see you," Osborne said, shaking his comrade warmly by the hand as soon as his descent from the vehicle was effected-and then he added, in a lower and agitated voice, "What's the news? Have you been in Russellsquare? What does the governor say? Tell me every thing." Dobbin looked very pale and grave. "I've seen your father," said he. "How's Amelia-Mrs. George? I'll tell you all the news presently but I've brought the great news of all and that is-" "Out with it, old fellow," George said. "We're ordered to Belgium. All the army goes-Guards and all. Heavy top's got the gout, and is mad at not being able to move. O'Dowd goes in command, and we embark from Chatham next week." This news of war could not but come with a shock upon our lovers, and caused all these gentlemen to look very serious. CHAPTER XXIII. CAPTAIN DOBBIN PROCEEDS ON HIS CANVASS. WHAT is the secret mesmerism which friendship possesses, and under the operation of which a person ordinarily sluggish, or cold, or timid, becomes wise, active, and resolute, in another's behalf? As Alexis, after a few passes from Dr. Elliotson, despises pain, reads with the back of his head, sees miles off, looks into next week, and performs other wonders, of which, in his own private, normal condition, he is quite incapable; so you see, in the affairs of the world and under the magnetism of friendship, the modest man become bold, the shy confident, the lazy active, or the impetuous prudent and peaceful. What is it, on the other hand, that makes the lawyer eschew his own cause, and call in his learned brother as an adviser? And what causes the doctor, when ailing, to send for his rival, and not sit down and examine his own tongue in the chimney glass, or write his own prescription at his study table? I throw out these queries for intelligent readers to answer, who know, at once, how credulous we are, and how skeptical, how soft, and how obstinate, how firm for others, and how diffident about ourselves: meanwhile it is certain that our friend Wuliam Dobbin, who was personally of so complying a disposition, that if his parents had pressed him much, it is probable that he would have stepped down into the kitchen and married the cook, and who, to further his own interests, would have found the most insuperable difficulty in walking across the street, found himself as busy and eager in the conduct of George Osborne's affairs, as the most selfish tactician could be in the pursuit of his own. While our friend George and his young wife were enjoying the first blushing days of the honeymoon at Brighton, honest William was left as George's plenipotentiary in London, to transact all the business part of the marriage. His duty it was to call upon old Sedley and his wife, and to keep the former in good humor; to draw Jos and his brother-in-law nearer together, so that Jos's position and dignity, as collector of Boggly Wollah, might compensate for his father's loss of station, and tend to reconcile old Osborne to the alliance: and finally, to communicate it to the latter in such a way as should least irritate the old gentleman. Now, before he faced the head of the Osborne house with the news which it was his duty to tell, Dobbin bethought him that it would be politic to make friends of the rest of the family, and, if possible, have the ladies on his side. They can't be angry in their hearts, thought he. No woman ever was really angry at a romantic marriage. A little crying out, and they must come round to their brother; when the three of us will lay siege to old Mr. Osborne. So this Machiavellian captain of infantry cast about him for some happy means or stratagem by which he could gently and gradually bring the Miss Osbornes to a knowledge of their brother's secret. By a little inquiry regarding his mother's engagements, he was pretty soon able to find out by whom of her ladyship's friends parties were given at that season; where he would be likely to meet Osborne's sisters; and, though he had that abhorrence of routs and evening parties, which many sensible men, alas, entertain, he soon found one where the Miss Osbornes were to be present. Making his appearance at the ball, where he danced a couple of sets with both of them, and was prodigiously polite, he actually had the courage to ask Miss Osborne for a few minutes' conversation at an early hour the next day, when he had, he said, to communicate to her news of the very greatest interest. Dobbin said, now coming to the point. "It was a very old attachment, and the young couple are as poor as church mice." "O, how delightful! O, how romantic!" Miss Osborne cried, as the captain said "old attachment" and "poor." Her sympathy encouraged him. "The finest young fellow in the regiment," he continued. "Not a braver or handsomer officer in the army; and such a charming wife! How you would like her; how you will like her when you know her, Miss Osborne." The young lady thought the actual moment had arrived, and that Dobbin's nervousness which now came on and was visible in many twitchings of his face, in his manner of beating the ground with his great feet, in the rapid buttoning and unbuttoning of his frock-coat, &c. Miss Osborne, I say, thought that when he had given himself a little air, he would unbosom himself entirely, and prepared eagerly to listen. And the clock, in the altar on which Iphigenia was situated, beginning, after a preparatory convulsion, to toll twelve, the mere tolling seemed as if it would last until one-so prolonged was the knell to the anxious spinster. What was it that made her start back, and gaze upon him for a moment, and then on the ground at her feet, and make as if she would faint on his arm, had he not by opportunely treading on her toes, brought the young lady back to self-control? Why "But it's not about marriage that I came was she so violently agitated at Dobbin's to speak-that is that marriage--that is— request? This can never be known. But no, I mean-my dear Miss Osborne, it's when he came the next day, Maria was about our dear friend George,” Dobbin not in the drawing-room with her sister, said. and Miss Wirt went off for the purpose of fetching the latter, and the captain and Miss Osborne were left together. They were both so silent that the tick-tock of the Sacrifice of Iphigenia clock on the mantel-piece became quite rudely audible. What a nice party it was last night," Miss Osborne at length began, encouragingly; "and-and how you're improved in your dancing, Captain Dobbin. Surely somebody has taught you," she added, with amiable archness. "About George ?" she said, in a tone so discomfited that Maria and Miss Wirt laughed at the other side of the door, and even that abandoned wretch of a Dobbin felt inclined to smile himself; for he was not altogether unconscious of the state of affairs; George having often bantered him gracefully and said, "Hang it, Will., why don't you take old Polly? She'll have you if you ask her. I'll bet you five to two she will." Yes, about George, then," he continued. "There has been a difference between him "You should see me dance a reel with and Mr. Osborne. And I regard him so Mrs. Major O'Dowd of ours; and a jig- much-for you know we have been like did you ever see a jig? But I think any brothers-that I hope and pray the quarrel body could dance with you, Miss Osborne, who dance so well." may be settled. We must go abroad, Miss Osborne. We may be ordered off at a day's warning. Who knows what may happen in the campaign? Don't be agitated, dear Miss Osborne; and those two at least should part friends." 66 "There has been no quarrel, Captain Dobbin, except a little usual scene with papa," the lady said. We are expecting George back daily. What papa wanted was only for his good. He has but to come back, and I'm sure all will be well; and dear Rhoda, who went away from here in sad anger, I know will forgive him. Woman forgives but too readily, captain." "Such an angel as you I am sure would," Mr. Dobbin said, with atrocious astuteness. "And no man can pardon himself for giving a woman pain. What would you feel, if a man were faithless to you?" "I should perish-I should throw myself out of the window-I should take poison-I should pine and die. I know I should," Miss cried, who had, nevertheless, gone through one or two affairs of the heart without any idea of suicide. He dropped it in some alarm. "Deceivers!" said he. "No, dear Miss Osborne, all men are not; your brother is not; George has loved Amelia Sedley ever since they were children; no wealth would make him marry any but her. Ought he to forsake her? Would you counsel him to do so?" What could Miss Jane say to such a question, and with her own peculiar views? She could not answer it, so she parried it by saying, "Well, if you are not a deceiver, at least you are very romantic ;" and Captain William let this observation pass without challenge. "And there are others," Dobbin continued, "as true and as kind-hearted as yourself. I'm not speaking about the West India heiress, Miss Osborne, but about a poor girl whom George once loved, and who was bred from her childhood to think of nobody but him. I've seen her in her poverty uncomplaining, broken-hearted, with- At length when, by the help of farther out a fault. It is of Miss Sedley I speak. polite speeches, he deemed that Miss OsDear Miss Osborne, can your generous borne was sufficiently prepared to receive heart quarrel with your brother for being the whole news, he poured it into her ear. faithful to her? Could his own conscience"George could not give up Amelia-George ever forgive him if he deserted her? Be her friend-she always loved you-andand I am come here charged by George to tell you that he holds his engagement to her as the most sacred duty he has; and to entreat you, at least, to be on his side." When any strong emotion took possession of Mr. Dobbin, and after the first word or two of hesitation, he could speak with perfect fluency, and it was evident that his eloquence on this occasion made some impression upon the lady whom he addressed. Well," said she, "this is-most surprising most painful-most extraordinary what will papa say?-that George should fling away such a superb establishment as was offered to him-but at any rate he has found a very brave champion in you, Captain Dobbin. It is of no use, however," she continued, after a pause, “I feel for poor Miss Sedley, most certainly-most sincerely, you know. We never thought the match a good one, though we were always very kind to her here-very. But papa will never consent, I am sure. And a well brought up young woman you know-with a well regulated mind must-George must give her up, dear Captain Dobbin, indeed he must." Ought a man to give up the woman he loved, just when misfortune befell her?" Dobbin said, holding out his hand. "Dear Miss Osborne! is this the counsel I hear from you? My dear young lady! you must befriend her. He can't give her up. He must not give her up. Would a man, think you, give you up if you were poor?" This adroit question touched the heart of Miss Jane Osborne not a little. "I don't know whether we poor girls ought to believe what you men say, captain,” she said. "There is that in woman's tenderness which induces her to believe too easily. I'm afraid you are cruel, cruel deceivers," and Dobbin certainly thought he felt a pressure of the hand which Miss Osborne had extended to him. was married to her"-and then he related the circumstances of the marriage, as we know them already, how the poor girl would have died had not her lover kept his faith: how Old Sedley had refused all consent to the match, and a license had been got; and Jos Sedley had come from Cheltenham to give away the bride: how they had gone to Brighton in Jos's chariot-and-four to pass the honey-moon: and how George counted on his dear kind sisters to befriend him with their father, as women-so true and tender as they were assuredly would do. And so, asking permission (readily granted) to see her again, and rightly conjecturing that the news he had brought would be told in the next five minutes to the other ladies, Captain Dobbin made his bow and took his leave. He was scarcely out of the house, when Miss Maria and Miss Wirt rushed in to Miss Osborne, and the whole wonderful secret was imparted to them by that lady. To do them justice, neither of the sisters were very much displeased. There is something about a runaway match with which few ladies can be seriously angry, and Amelia rather rose in their estimation, from the spirit which she had displayed in consenting to the union. As they debated the story, and prattled about it, and wondered what papa would do and say, came a loud knock, as of an avenging thunder-clap, at the door, which made these conspirators start. must be papa, they thought. But it was not he. It was only Mr. Frederick Bullock, who had come from the city according to appointment, to conduct the ladies to a flower-show. It This gentleman, as may be imagined, was not kept long in ignorance of the secret. But his face, when he heard it, showed an amazement which was very different to that look of sentimental wonder which the countenances of the sisters wore. Mr. Bullock was a man of the world, and a junior partner of a wealthy firm. He knew what money was, and the value of it: and a delightful Mr. Osborne's offices with a most dismal throb of expectation lighted up his little eyes, countenance and abashed gait, and, passing and caused him to smile on his Maria, as through the outer room where Mr. Chopper he thought that by this piece of folly of Mr. presided, was greeted by that functionary George's she might be worth thirty thousand from his desk with a waggish air which pounds more than he had ever hoped to get farther discomfited him. Mr. Chopper with her. winked and nodded and pointed his pen toward his patron's door, and said, “You'll find the governor all right," with the most provoking good humor. "Gad! Jane," said he, the elder sister with some will be sorry he cried off. fifty thousand pounder yet." surveying even Osborne rose too, and shook him heartily The sisters had never thought of the by the hand, and said, "How do, my dear money question up to that moment, but boy?" with a cordiality that made poor Fred. Bullock bantered them with graceful George's embassador feel doubly guilty. gayety about it during their forenoon's ex- His hand lay as if dead in the old gentlecursion; and they had risen not a little in man's grasp. He felt that he, Dobbin, was their own esteem by the time when, the more or less the cause of all that had hapmorning amusement over, they drove back pened. It was he had brought back George to dinner. And do not let my respected to Amelia; it was he had applauded, enreader exclaim against this selfishness as un-couraged, transacted almost the marriage natural. It was but this present morning, which he was come to reveal to George's as he rode on the omnibus from Richmond; father: and the latter was receiving him while it changed horses, this present chroni- with smiles of welcome; patting him on the cler, being on the roof, marked three little shoulder, and calling him "Dobbin, my dear children playing in a puddle below, very dirty boy." The envoy had indeed good reason and friendly and happy. To these three to hang his head. presently came another little one. "Polly," says she, " your sister's got a penny." At which the children got up from the puddle instantly, and ran off to pay their court to Pe Peggy. And as the omnibus drove off I saw Peggy with the infantine procession at her tail, marching with great dignity toward the stall of a neighboring lollipop-woman. CHAPTER XXIV. IN WHICH MR. OSBORNE TAKES DOWN THE So having prepared the sisters, Dobbin hastened away to the city to perform the rest and more difficult part of the task which he had undertaken. The idea of facing old Osborne rendered him not a little nervous, and more than once he thought of leaving the young ladies to communicate the secret, which, as he was aware, they could not long retain. But he had promised to report to George upon the manner in which the elder Osborne bore the intelligence; so going into the city to the paternal counting-house in Thames-street, he dispatched thence a note to Mr. Osborne begging for a half-hour's conversation relative to the affairs of his son George. Dobbin's messenger returned from Mr. Osborne's house of business, with the compliments of the latter, who would be very happy to see the captain immediately, and away accordingly Dobbin went to confront him. The captain, with a half-guilty secret to confess, and with the prospect of a painful and stormy interview before him, entered Mr. Osborne fully believed that Dobbin had come to announce his son's surrender. Chopper and his principal were talking over the matter between George and his father, at the very moment when Dobbin's messenger arrived. Both agreed that George was sending in his submission. Both had been expecting it for some days--and "Lord! Chopper, what a marriage we'll have," Mr. Osborne said to his clerk, snapping his big fingers, and jingling all the guineas and shillings in his great pockets, as he eyed his subordinate with a look of triumph. With similar operations conducted in both pockets, and a knowing, jolly air, Osborne from his chair regarded Dobbin seated blank and silent opposite to him. "What a bumpkin he is for a captain in the army," old Osborne thought. "I wonder George hasn't taught him better manners.' At last Dobbin summoned courage to begin. "Sir," said he, "I've brought you some very grave news. I have been at the Horse Guards this morning, and there's no doubt that our regiment will be ordered abroad, and on its way to Belgium before the week is over. And you know, sir, that we sha'nt be home again before a tussle which may be fatal to many of us.” Osborne looked grave. My sregiment will do its duty, sir, I dare say,” he said. the "The French are very strong, sir," Dobbin went on. "The Russians and Austrians will be a long time before they can bring their troops down. We shall have the first of the fight, sir and depend on it Boney will take care that it shall be a hard one." "What are you driving at, Dobbin," his interlocutor said, uneasy and with a scowl. "1 suppose no Briton's afraid of any d Frenchman, hey!" I only mean, that before we go, and considering the great and certain risk that hangs over every one of us-if there are any differences between you and George-it would be as well, sir, that-that you should shake hands: wouldn't it? Should any thing happen to him, I think you would never forgive yourself if you hadn't parted in charity." As he said this, poor. William Dobbin blushed crimson, and felt and owned that he himself was a traitor. But for him, perhaps, this severance need never have taken place. Why had not George's marriage been delayed? What call was there to press it on so eagerly? He felt that George would have parted from Amelia at any rate without a mortal pang. Amelia, too, might have recovered the shock of losing him. It was his counsel had brought about this marriage, and all that was to ensue from it. And why was it? Because he loved her so much that he could not bear to see her unhappy or because his own sufferings of suspense were so unendurable that he was glad to crush them at once-as we hasten a funeral after a death, or, when a separation from those we love is imminent, can not rest until the parting be over. true. "You are a good fellow, William," said Mr. Osborne in a softened voice; "and me and George shouldn't part in anger, that is Look here. I've done for him as much as any father ever did. He's had three times as much money from me, as I warrant your father ever gave you. But I don't brag about that. How I've toiled for him, and worked and employed my talents and energy I won't say. Ask Chopper. Ask himself. Ask the city of London. Well, I propose to him such a marriage as any nobleman in the land might be proud of the only thing in life I ever asked him—and he refuses me. Am I wrong? Is the quarrel of my making? What do I seek but his good, for which I've been toiling like a convict ever since he was born? Nobody can say there's any thing selfish in me. Let him come back. I say, here's my hand. I say, forget and forgive. As for marrying now, it's out of the question. Let him and Miss S. make it up, and make out the marriage afterward, when he comes back a colonel; for he shall be a colonel, by G- he shall, if money can do it. I'm glad you've brought him round. I know it's you Dobbin. You've took him out of many a scrape before. Let him come. I shan't be hard. Come along, and dine in Russell-square to-day both of you. The old shop, the old hour. You'll find a neck of venison, and no questions asked." : This praise and confidence smote Dobbin's heart very keenly. Every moment the colloquy continued in this tone, he felt more and more guilty. "Sir," said he, "I fear you deceive yourself. I am sure you do. George is much too high-minded a inan ever to marry for money. A threat on your part that you would disinherit him in case of disobedience would only be followed by resistance on his." 66 "Why, hang it, man, you don't call offering him eight or ten thousand a year, threatening him?" Mr. Osborne said, with still provoking good humor. Gad, if Miss S. will have me, I'm her man. I ain't particular about a shade or so of tawny." And the old gentleman gave his knowing grin, and coarse laugh. You forget, sir, previous engagements into which Captain Osborne had entered," the embassador said, gravely. "What engagements? What the devil do you mean? You don't mean," Mr. Osborne continued, gathering wrath and astonishment as the thought now first came upon him; "you don't mean that he's such a dfool as to be still hankering after that swindling old bankrupt's daughter? You've not come here for to make me suppose that he wants to marry her? Marry her, that is a good one. My son and heir marry a beggar's girl out of a gutter. D-— him, if he does, let him buy a broom and sweep a crossing. She was always dangling and ogling after him, I recollect now; and I've no doubt she was put on by her old sharper of a father." "Fast and loose!" howled out old Osborne. "Fast and loose! Why, hang me, those are the very words my gentleman used himself when he gave himself airs, last Thursday was a fortnight, and talked about the British army to his father who made him. What, it's you who have been a setting of him up is it? and my service to you captain. It's you who want to introduce beggars into my family. Thank you for nothing, captain. Marry her indeed-he, he! why should he? I warrant you she'd go to him fast enough without." Sir," said Dobbin, starting up in undisguised anger; "no man shall abuse that lady in my hearing, and you least of all.” "O, you're a going to call me out, are you? Stop, let me ring the bell for pistols for two. Mr. George sent you here to insult his father, did he?" Osborne said, pulling at the bell-cord. "Mr. Osborne," said Dobbin, with a faltering voice, "it's you who are insulting the best creature in the world. You had best spare her, sir, for she's your son's wife." |