Chapter VI: Vauxhall

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　I know that the tune I am piping is a very mildone (although there are some terrific chapterscoming presently), and must beg the good-naturedreader to remember that we are only discoursingat present about a stockbroker's family in RussellSquare, who are taking walks, or luncheon, or dinner,or talking and making love as people do in common life,and without a single passionate and wonderfulincident to mark the progress of their loves. Theargument stands thus--Osborne, in love with Amelia,has asked an old friend to dinner and to Vauxhall--JosSedley is in love with Rebecca. Will he marry her?That is the great subject now in hand.

　　We might have treated this subject in the genteel, or inthe romantic, or in the facetious manner. Suppose we hadlaid the scene in Grosvenor Square, with the very sameadventures--would not some people have listened?Suppose we had shown how Lord Joseph Sedley fell in love,and the Marquis of Osborne became attached to LadyAmelia, with the full consent of the Duke, her noblefather: or instead of the supremely genteel, suppose wehad resorted to the entirely low, and described what wasgoing on in Mr. Sedley's kitchen--how black Sambo wasin love with the cook (as indeed he was), and how hefought a battle with the coachman in her behalf; how theknife-boy was caught stealing a cold shoulder of mutton,and Miss Sedley's new femme de chambre refused to goto bed without a wax candle; such incidents might bemade to provoke much delightful laughter, and besupposed to represent scenes of "life." Or if, on the contrary,we had taken a fancy for the terrible, and made the loverof the new femme de chambre a professional burglar, whobursts into the house with his band, slaughters blackSambo at the feet of his master, and carries off Amelia inher night-dress, not to be let loose again till the thirdvolume, we should easily have constructed a tale ofthrilling interest, through the fiery chapters of which thereader should hurry, panting. But my readers must hopefor no such romance, only a homely story, and must becontent with a chapter about Vauxhall, which is so shortthat it scarce deserves to be called a chapter at all. Andyet it is a chapter, and a very important one too. Are notthere little chapters in everybody's life, that seem to benothing, and yet affect all the rest of the history?

　　Let us then step into the coach with the Russell Squareparty, and be off to the Gardens. There is barely roombetween Jos and Miss Sharp, who are on the front seat. Mr.Osborne sitting bodkin opposite, between Captain Dobbinand Amelia.

　　Every soul in the coach agreed that on that night Joswould propose to make Rebecca Sharp Mrs. Sedley. Theparents at home had acquiesced in the arrangement,though, between ourselves, old Mr. Sedley had a feelingvery much akin to contempt for his son. He said he wasvain, selfish, lazy, and effeminate. He could not endure hisairs as a man of fashion, and laughed heartily at hispompous braggadocio stories. "I shall leave the fellow halfmy property," he said; "and he will have, besides, plentyof his own; but as I am perfectly sure that if you, and I,and his sister were to die to-morrow, he would say 'GoodGad!' and eat his dinner just as well as usual, I am notgoing to make myself anxious about him. Let him marrywhom he likes. It's no affair of mine."

　　Amelia, on the other hand, as became a young womanof her prudence and temperament, was quite enthusiasticfor the match. Once or twice Jos had been on the pointof saying something very important to her, to which shewas most willing to lend an ear, but the fat fellow couldnot be brought to unbosom himself of his great secret,and very much to his sister's disappointment he only ridhimself of a large sigh and turned away.

　　This mystery served to keep Amelia's gentle bosom in aperpetual flutter of excitement. If she did not speak withRebecca on the tender subject, she compensated herselfwith long and intimate conversations with Mrs. Blenkinsop,the housekeeper, who dropped some hints to thelady's-maid, who may have cursorily mentioned the matterto the cook, who carried the news, I have no doubt, to allthe tradesmen, so that Mr. Jos's marriage was now talkedof by a very considerable number of persons in theRussell Square world.

　　It was, of course, Mrs. Sedley's opinion that her sonwould demean himself by a marriage with an artist'sdaughter. "But, lor', Ma'am," ejaculated Mrs. Blenkinsop,"we was only grocers when we married Mr. S., whowas a stock-broker's clerk, and we hadn't five hundredpounds among us, and we're rich enough now." AndAmelia was entirely of this opinion, to which, gradually,the good-natured Mrs. Sedley was brought.

　　Mr. Sedley was neutral. "Let Jos marry whom he likes,"he said; "it's no affair of mine. This girl has no fortune;no more had Mrs. Sedley. She seems good-humoured andclever, and will keep him in order, perhaps. Better she,my dear, than a black Mrs. Sedley, and a dozen ofmahogany grandchildren."

　　So that everything seemed to smile upon Rebecca'sfortunes. She took Jos's arm, as a matter of course, on goingto dinner; she had sate by him on the box of his opencarriage (a most tremendous "buck" he was, as he satthere, serene, in state, driving his greys), and thoughnobody said a word on the subject of the marriage,everybody seemed to understand it. All she wanted wasthe proposal, and ah! how Rebecca now felt the want of amother!--a dear, tender mother, who would have managedthe business in ten minutes, and, in the course of a littledelicate confidential conversation, would have extractedthe interesting avowal from the bashful lips of the youngman!

　　Such was the state of affairs as the carriage crossedWestminster bridge.

　　The party was landed at the Royal Gardens in due time.As the majestic Jos stepped out of the creaking vehiclethe crowd gave a cheer for the fat gentleman, who blushedand looked very big and mighty, as he walked away withRebecca under his arm. George, of course, took charge ofAmelia. She looked as happy as a rose-tree in sunshine.

　　"I say, Dobbin," says George, "just look to the shawlsand things, there's a good fellow." And so while he pairedoff with Miss Sedley, and Jos squeezed through the gateinto the gardens with Rebecca at his side, honest Dobbincontented himself by giving an arm to the shawls, and bypaying at the door for the whole party.

　　He walked very modestly behind them. He was notwilling to spoil sport. About Rebecca and Jos he did notcare a fig. But he thought Amelia worthy even of thebrilliant George Osborne, and as he saw that good-lookingcouple threading the walks to the girl's delight andwonder, he watched her artless happiness with a sort offatherly pleasure. Perhaps he felt that he would have likedto have something on his own arm besides a shawl (thepeople laughed at seeing the gawky young officer carryingthis female burthen); but William Dobbin was very littleaddicted to selfish calculation at all; and so long as hisfriend was enjoying himself, how should he be discontented?And the truth is, that of all the delights of theGardens; of the hundred thousand extra lamps, whichwere always lighted; the fiddlers in cocked hats, whoplayed ravishing melodies under the gilded cockle-shell inthe midst of the gardens; the singers, both of comic andsentimental ballads, who charmed the ears there; thecountry dances, formed by bouncing cockneys andcockneyesses, and executed amidst jumping, thumping andlaughter; the signal which announced that Madame Saquiwas about to mount skyward on a slack-rope ascendingto the stars; the hermit that always sat in the illuminatedhermitage; the dark walks, so favourable to the interviewsof young lovers; the pots of stout handed about by thepeople in the shabby old liveries; and the twinkling boxes,in which the happy feasters made-believe to eat slices ofalmost invisible ham--of all these things, and of thegentle Simpson, that kind smiling idiot, who, I daresay,presided even then over the place--Captain William Dobbindid not take the slightest notice.

　　He carried about Amelia's white cashmere shawl, andhaving attended under the gilt cockle-shell, while Mrs.Salmon performed the Battle of Borodino (a savagecantata against the Corsican upstart, who had lately metwith his Russian reverses)--Mr. Dobbin tried to hum itas he walked away, and found he was humming--the tunewhich Amelia Sedley sang on the stairs, as she camedown to dinner.

　　He burst out laughing at himself; for the truth is, hecould sing no better than an owl.

　　It is to be understood, as a matter of course, that ouryoung people, being in parties of two and two, made themost solemn promises to keep together during the evening,and separated in ten minutes afterwards. Parties atVauxhall always did separate, but 'twas only to meetagain at supper-time, when they could talk of their mutualadventures in the interval.

　　What were the adventures of Mr. Osborne and MissAmelia? That is a secret. But be sure of this--they wereperfectly happy, and correct in their behaviour; and asthey had been in the habit of being together any time thesefifteen years, their tete-a-tete offered no particularnovelty.

　　But when Miss Rebecca Sharp and her stout companionlost themselves in a solitary walk, in which there were notabove five score more of couples similarly straying, theyboth felt that the situation was extremely tender andcritical, and now or never was the moment Miss Sharpthought, to provoke that declaration which was tremblingon the timid lips of Mr. Sedley. They had previously beento the panorama of Moscow, where a rude fellow, treadingon Miss Sharp's foot, caused her to fall back with a littleshriek into the arms of Mr. Sedley, and this little incidentincreased the tenderness and confidence of that gentlemanto such a degree, that he told her several of his favouriteIndian stories over again for, at least, the sixth time.

　　"How I should like to see India!" said Rebecca.

　　"Should you?" said Joseph, with a most killing tenderness;and was no doubt about to follow up this artfulinterrogatory by a question still more tender (for he puffedand panted a great deal, and Rebecca's hand, which wasplaced near his heart, could count the feverish pulsationsof that organ), when, oh, provoking! the bell rang for thefireworks, and, a great scuffling and running taking place,these interesting lovers were obliged to follow in thestream of people.

　　Captain Dobbin had some thoughts of joining the partyat supper: as, in truth, he found the Vauxhallamusements not particularly lively--but he paradedtwice before the box where the now united couples weremet, and nobody took any notice of him. Covers were laid forfour. The mated pairs were prattling away quite happily,and Dobbin knew he was as clean forgotten as if he hadnever existed in this world.

　　"I should only be de trop," said the Captain, looking atthem rather wistfully. "I'd best go and talk to the hermit,"--and so he strolled off out of the hum of men, and noise,and clatter of the banquet, into the dark walk, at the endof which lived that well-known pasteboard Solitary. Itwasn't very good fun for Dobbin--and, indeed, to bealone at Vauxhall, I have found, from my own experience,to be one of the most dismal sports ever entered into by abachelor.

　　The two couples were perfectly happy then in theirbox: where the most delightful and intimate conversationtook place. Jos was in his glory, ordering about the waiterswith great majesty. He made the salad; and uncorkedthe Champagne; and carved the chickens; and ate anddrank the greater part of the refreshments on the tables.Finally, he insisted upon having a bowl of rack punch;everybody had rack punch at Vauxhall. "Waiter, rackpunch."

　　That bowl of rack punch was the cause of all thishistory. And why not a bowl of rack punch as well as anyother cause? Was not a bowl of prussic acid the cause ofFair Rosamond's retiring from the world? Was not a bowlof wine the cause of the demise of Alexander the Great,or, at least, does not Dr. Lempriere say so?--so did thisbowl of rack punch influence the fates of all the principalcharacters in this "Novel without a Hero," which we arenow relating. It influenced their life, although most ofthem did not taste a drop of it.

　　The young ladies did not drink it; Osborne did notlike it; and the consequence was that Jos, that fatgourmand, drank up the whole contents of the bowl;and the consequence of his drinking up the whole contentsof the bowl was a liveliness which at first was astonishing,and then became almost painful; for he talked and laughed soloud as to bring scores of listeners round the box, muchto the confusion of the innocent party within it; and,volunteering to sing a song (which he did in that maudlinhigh key peculiar to gentlemen in an inebriated state), healmost drew away the audience who were gathered roundthe musicians in the gilt scollop-shell, and received fromhis hearers a great deal of applause.

　　"Brayvo, Fat un!" said one; "Angcore, Daniel Lambert!"said another; "What a figure for the tight-rope!"exclaimed another wag, to the inexpressible alarm ofthe ladies, and the great anger of Mr. Osborne.

　　"For Heaven's sake, Jos, let us get up and go," criedthat gentleman, and the young women rose.

　　"Stop, my dearest diddle-diddle-darling," shouted Jos,now as bold as a lion, and clasping Miss Rebecca roundthe waist. Rebecca started, but she could not get away herhand. The laughter outside redoubled. Jos continued todrink, to make love, and to sing; and, winking and wavinghis glass gracefully to his audience, challenged all or anyto come in and take a share of his punch.

　　Mr. Osborne was just on the point of knocking down agentleman in top-boots, who proposed to take advantageof this invitation, and a commotion seemed to beinevitable, when by the greatest good luck a gentlemanof the name of Dobbin, who had been walking about thegardens, stepped up to the box. "Be off, you fools!" saidthis gentleman--shouldering off a great number of the crowd,who vanished presently before his cocked hat and fierceappearance--and he entered the box in a most agitated state.

　　"Good Heavens! Dobbin, where have you been?" 0sbornesaid, seizing the white cashmere shawl from hisfriend's arm, and huddling up Amelia in it.--"Makeyourself useful, and take charge of Jos here, whilst Itake the ladies to the carriage."

　　Jos was for rising to interfere--but a single push fromOsborne's finger sent him puffing back into his seat again,and the lieutenant was enabled to remove the ladies insafety. Jos kissed his hand to them as they retreated, andhiccupped out "Bless you! Bless you!" Then, seizingCaptain Dobbin's hand, and weeping in the most pitiful way,he confided to that gentleman the secret of his loves. Headored that girl who had just gone out; he had brokenher heart, he knew he had, by his conduct; he would marryher next morning at St. George's, Hanover Square; he'dknock up the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth: hewould, by Jove! and have him in readiness; and, acting onthis hint, Captain Dobbin shrewdly induced him to leavethe gardens and hasten to Lambeth Palace, and, when onceout of the gates, easily conveyed Mr. Jos Sedley into ahackney-coach, which deposited him safely at his lodgings.

　　George Osborne conducted the girls home in safety:and when the door was closed upon them, and as hewalked across Russell Square, laughed so as to astonishthe watchman. Amelia looked very ruefully at her friend,as they went up stairs, and kissed her, and went to bedwithout any more talking.

　　"He must propose to-morrow," thought Rebecca. "Hecalled me his soul's darling, four times; he squeezed myhand in Amelia's presence. He must propose to-morrow."And so thought Amelia, too. And I dare say she thoughtof the dress she was to wear as bridesmaid, and of thepresents which she should make to her nice little sister-in-law, and of a subsequent ceremony in which she herselfmight play a principal part, &c., and &c., and &c., and &c.

　　Oh, ignorant young creatures! How little do you knowthe effect of rack punch! What is the rack in the punch,at night, to the rack in the head of a morning? To thistruth I can vouch as a man; there is no headache in theworld like that caused by Vauxhall punch. Through thelapse of twenty years, I can remember the consequenceof two glasses! Two wine-glasses! But two, upon thehonour of a gentleman; and Joseph Sedley, who had aliver complaint, had swallowed at least a quart of theabominable mixture.

　　That next morning, which Rebecca thought was todawn upon her fortune, found Sedley groaning in agonieswhich the pen refuses to describe. Soda-water was notinvented yet. Small beer--will it be believed!--was theonly drink with which unhappy gentlemen soothed thefever of their previous night's potation. With this mildbeverage before him, George Osborne found the ex-Collector of Boggley Wollah groaning on the sofa athis lodgings. Dobbin was already in the room, good-naturedly tending his patient of the night before. The twoofficers, looking at the prostrate Bacchanalian, andaskance at each other, exchanged the most frightfulsympathetic grins. Even Sedley's valet, the most solemnand correct of gentlemen, with the muteness and gravity ofan undertaker, could hardly keep his countenance inorder, as he looked at his unfortunate master.

　　"Mr. Sedley was uncommon wild last night, sir," hewhispered in confidence to Osborne, as the latter mountedthe stair. "He wanted to fight the 'ackney-coachman, sir.The Capting was obliged to bring him upstairs in hisharms like a babby." A momentary smile flickered overMr. Brush's features as he spoke; instantly, however, theyrelapsed into their usual unfathomable calm, as he flungopen the drawing-room door, and announced "Mr.Hosbin."

　　"How are you, Sedley?" that young wag began, aftersurveying his victim. "No bones broke? There's ahackney-coachman downstairs with a black eye, and atied-up head, vowing he'll have the law of you."

　　"What do you mean--law?" Sedley faintly asked.

　　"For thrashing him last night--didn't he, Dobbin? Youhit out, sir, like Molyneux. The watchman says he neversaw a fellow go down so straight. Ask Dobbin."

　　"You did have a round with the coachman," CaptainDobbin said, "and showed plenty of fight too."

　　"And that fellow with the white coat at Vauxhall! HowJos drove at him! How the women screamed! By Jove,sir, it did my heart good to see you. I thought you civilianshad no pluck; but I'll never get in your way when youare in your cups, Jos."

　　"I believe I'm very terrible, when I'm roused,"ejaculated Jos from the sofa, and made a grimace sodreary and ludicrous, that the Captain's politeness couldrestrain him no longer, and he and Osborne fired off aringing volley of laughter.

　　Osborne pursued his advantage pitilessly. He thoughtJos a milksop. He had been revolving in his mind themarriage question pending between Jos and Rebecca, andwas not over well pleased that a member of a family intowhich he, George Osborne, of the --th, was goingto marry, should make a mesalliance with a little nobody--a little upstart governess. "You hit, you poor oldfellow!" said Osborne. "You terrible! Why, man, youcouldn't stand--you made everybody laugh in theGardens, though you were crying yourself. You weremaudlin, Jos. Don't you remember singing a song?"

　　"A what?" Jos asked.

　　"A sentimental song, and calling Rosa, Rebecca, what'sher name, Amelia's little friend--your dearest diddle-diddle-darling?" And this ruthless young fellow, seizinghold of Dobbin's hand, acted over the scene, to the horrorof the original performer, and in spite of Dobbin's good-natured entreaties to him to have mercy.

　　"Why should I spare him?" Osborne said to his friend'sremonstrances, when they quitted the invalid, leaving himunder the hands of Doctor Gollop. "What the deuce righthas he to give himself his patronizing airs, and make foolsof us at Vauxhall? Who's this little schoolgirl that isogling and making love to him? Hang it, the family'slow enough already, without her. A governess is all verywell, but I'd rather have a lady for my sister-in-law. I'ma liberal man; but I've proper pride, and know my ownstation: let her know hers. And I'll take down that greathectoring Nabob, and prevent him from being made agreater fool than he is. That's why I told him to look out,lest she brought an action against him."

　　"I suppose you know best," Dobbin said, though ratherdubiously. "You always were a Tory, and your family'sone of the oldest in England. But --"

　　"Come and see the girls, and make love to Miss Sharpyourself," the lieutenant here interrupted his friend; butCaptain Dobbin declined to join Osborne in his daily visitto the young ladies in Russell Square.

　　As George walked down Southampton Row, fromHolborn, he laughed as he saw, at the Sedley Mansion,in two different stories two heads on the look-out.

　　The fact is, Miss Amelia, in the drawing-room balcony,was looking very eagerly towards the opposite side of theSquare, where Mr. Osborne dwelt, on the watch for thelieutenant himself; and Miss Sharp, from her little bed-room on the second floor, was in observation until Mr.Joseph's great form should heave in sight.

　　"Sister Anne is on the watch-tower," said he to Amelia,"but there's nobody coming"; and laughing and enjoyingthe joke hugely, he described in the most ludicrous termsto Miss Sedley, the dismal condition of her brother.

　　"I think it's very cruel of you to laugh, George," shesaid, looking particularly unhappy; but George onlylaughed the more at her piteous and discomfited mien,persisted in thinking the joke a most diverting one, andwhen Miss Sharp came downstairs, bantered her with agreat deal of liveliness upon the effect of her charms onthe fat civilian.

　　"O Miss Sharp! if you could but see him this morning,"he said--"moaning in his flowered dressing-gown--writhing on his sofa; if you could but have seen himlolling out his tongue to Gollop the apothecary."

　　"See whom?" said Miss Sharp.

　　"Whom? O whom? Captain Dobbin, of course, to whomwe were all so attentive, by the way, last night."

　　"We were very unkind to him," Emmy said, blushingvery much. "I--I quite forgot him."

　　"Of course you did," cried Osborne, still on the laugh.

　　"One can't be always thinking about Dobbin, you know,Amelia. Can one, Miss Sharp?"

　　"Except when he overset the glass of wine at dinner,"Miss Sharp said, with a haughty air and a toss of thehead, "I never gave the existence of Captain Dobbin onesingle moment's consideration."

　　"Very good, Miss Sharp, I'll tell him," Osborne said;and as he spoke Miss Sharp began to have a feeling ofdistrust and hatred towards this young officer, which hewas quite unconscious of having inspired. "He is to makefun of me, is he?" thought Rebecca. "Has he beenlaughing about me to Joseph? Has he frightened him?Perhaps he won't come."--A film passed over her eyes,and her heart beat quite quick.

　　"You're always joking," said she, smiling as innocentlyas she could. "Joke away, Mr. George; there's nobodyto defend me." And George Osborne, as she walked away--and Amelia looked reprovingly at him--felt some littlemanly compunction for having inflicted any unnecessaryunkindness upon this helpless creature. "My dearestAmelia," said he, "you are too good--too kind. Youdon't know the world. I do. And your little friend MissSharp must learn her station."

　　"Don't you think Jos will--"

　　"Upon my word, my dear, I don't know. He may, ormay not. I'm not his master. I only know he is a veryfoolish vain fellow, and put my dear little girl into a verypainful and awkward position last night. My dearestdiddle-diddle-darling!" He was off laughing again, and hedid it so drolly that Emmy laughed too.

　　All that day Jos never came. But Amelia had no fearabout this; for the little schemer had actually sent awaythe page, Mr. Sambo's aide-de-camp, to Mr. Joseph'slodgings, to ask for some book he had promised, and howhe was; and the reply through Jos's man, Mr. Brush, was,that his master was ill in bed, and had just had the doctorwith him. He must come to-morrow, she thought, but shenever had the courage to speak a word on the subjectto Rebecca; nor did that young woman herself alludeto it in any way during the whole evening after the nightat Vauxhall.

　　The next day, however, as the two young ladies sate onthe sofa, pretending to work, or to write letters, or toread novels, Sambo came into the room with his usualengaging grin, with a packet under his arm, and a noteon a tray. "Note from Mr. Jos, Miss," says Sambo.

　　How Amelia trembled as she opened it!

　　So it ran:

　　Dear Amelia,--I send you the "Orphan of the Forest."I was too ill to come yesterday. I leave town to-dayfor Cheltenham. Pray excuse me, if you can, to theamiable Miss Sharp, for my conduct at Vauxhall, andentreat her to pardon and forget every word I may haveuttered when excited by that fatal supper. As soon asI have recovered, for my health is very much shaken, Ishall go to Scotland for some months, and am

　　Truly yours,Jos Sedley

　　It was the death-warrant. All was over. Amelia didnot dare to look at Rebecca's pale face and burning eyes,but she dropt the letter into her friend's lap; and got up,and went upstairs to her room, and cried her little heartout.

　　Blenkinsop, the housekeeper, there sought her presentlywith consolation, on whose shoulder Amelia weptconfidentially, and relieved herself a good deal. "Don't takeon, Miss. I didn't like to tell you. But none of us in thehouse have liked her except at fust. I sor her with myown eyes reading your Ma's letters. Pinner says she'salways about your trinket-box and drawers, andeverybody's drawers, and she's sure she's put your whiteribbing into her box."

　　"I gave it her, I gave it her," Amelia said.

　　But this did not alter Mrs. Blenkinsop's opinion of MissSharp. "I don't trust them governesses, Pinner," sheremarked to the maid. "They give themselves the hairs andhupstarts of ladies, and their wages is no better thanyou nor me."

　　It now became clear to every soul in the house, exceptpoor Amelia, that Rebecca should take her departure,and high and low (always with the one exception) agreedthat that event should take place as speedily as possible.Our good child ransacked all her drawers, cupboards,reticules, and gimcrack boxes--passed in review all hergowns, fichus, tags, bobbins, laces, silk stockings, andfallals--selecting this thing and that and the other, tomake a little heap for Rebecca. And going to her Papa,that generous British merchant, who had promised togive her as many guineas as she was years old--shebegged the old gentleman to give the money to dearRebecca, who must want it, while she lacked for nothing.

　　She even made George Osborne contribute, andnothing loth (for he was as free-handed a young fellowas any in the army), he went to Bond Street, and boughtthe best hat and spenser that money could buy.

　　"That's George's present to you, Rebecca, dear," saidAmelia, quite proud of the bandbox conveying thesegifts. "What a taste he has! There's nobody like him."

　　"Nobody," Rebecca answered. "How thankful I am tohim!" She was thinking in her heart, "It was GeorgeOsborne who prevented my marriage."--And she lovedGeorge Osborne accordingly.

　　She made her preparations for departure with greatequanimity; and accepted all the kind little Amelia'spresents, after just the proper degree of hesitation andreluctance. She vowed eternal gratitude to Mrs. Sedley,of course; but did not intrude herself upon that goodlady too much, who was embarrassed, and evidentlywishing to avoid her. She kissed Mr. Sedley's hand, whenhe presented her with the purse; and asked permission toconsider him for the future as her kind, kind friend andprotector. Her behaviour was so affecting that he wasgoing to write her a cheque for twenty pounds more;but he restrained his feelings: the carriage was in waitingto take him to dinner, so he tripped away with a "Godbless you, my dear, always come here when you come totown, you know.--Drive to the Mansion House, James."

　　Finally came the parting with Miss Amelia, over whichpicture I intend to throw a veil. But after a scene inwhich one person was in earnest and the other a perfectperformer--after the tenderest caresses, the most pathetictears, the smelling-bottle, and some of the very bestfeelings of the heart, had been called into requisition--Rebecca and Amelia parted, the former vowing to loveher friend for ever and ever and ever.