when there was somebody--but no--don't let us talk of old times"; and she passed her handkerchief with the tattered lace across her eyelids.

when there was somebody - but no - don't let us talk of old times." She passed her handkerchief of tattered lace across her eyelids.


"Is not this a strange place," she continued, "for a woman, who has lived in a very different world too, to be found in?

"Is not this a strange place," she continued, "for a woman who has lived in a very different world?


I have had so many griefs and wrongs, Joseph Sedley; I have been made to suffer so cruelly that I am almost made mad sometimes.


I can't stay still in any place, but wander about always restless and unhappy.

can't stay still in any place, but wander about restless and unhappy.


All my friends have been false to me--all.

All my friends have been false to me - all.


There is no such thing as an honest man in the world.


I was the truest wife that ever lived, though I married my husband out of pique, because somebody else--but never mind that.

I was the truest wife that ever lived, though I married my husband out of pique, because somebody else - but never mind that.


I was true, and he trampled upon me and deserted me.

I was true to my husband, and he trampled upon me and deserted me.


I had but one child, one darling, one hope, one joy, which I held to my heart with a mother's affection, which was my life, my prayer, my--my blessing; and they--they tore it from me--tore it from me"; and she put her hand to her heart with a passionate gesture of despair, burying her face for a moment on the bed.

to my darling child, my hope and joy; and they - they tore it from me." She put her hand to her heart with a passionate gesture of despair, burying her face for a moment on the bed.


The brandy-bottle inside clinked up against the plate which held the cold sausage.

The brandy-bottle inside clinked up against the plate.


Both were moved, no doubt, by the exhibition of so much grief.

Both were moved, no doubt, by her grief.


Max and Fritz were at the door, listening with wonder to Mrs. Becky's sobs and cries.


Jos, too, was a good deal frightened and affected at seeing his old flame in this condition.

Jos was a good deal frightened and affected at seeing her in this condition.


And she began, forthwith, to tell her story--a tale so neat, simple, and artless that it was quite evident from hearing her that if ever there was a white-robed angel escaped from heaven to be subject to the infernal machinations and villainy of fiends here below, that spotless being--that miserable unsullied martyr, was present on the bed before Jos--on the bed, sitting on the brandy-bottle.

She began to tell her story - a tale so neat, simple, and artless that it was quite evident that a white-robed angel escaped from heaven was before Jos - on the bed, sitting on the brandy-bottle.


They had a very long, amicable, and confidential talk there, in the course of which Jos Sedley was somehow made aware (but in a manner that did not in the least scare or offend him) that Becky's heart had first learned to beat at his enchanting presence; that George Osborne had certainly paid an unjustifiable court to HER, which might account for Amelia's jealousy and their little rupture; but that Becky never gave the least encouragement to the unfortunate officer, and that she had never ceased to think about Jos from the very first day she had seen him, though, of course, her duties as a married woman were paramount--duties which she had always preserved, and would, to her dying day, or until the proverbially bad climate in which Colonel Crawley was living should release her from a yoke which his cruelty had rendered odious to her.

They had a very long, amicable and confidential talk, during which Jos Sedley was somehow made aware that Becky's heart had first learned to beat at his enchanting presence; that George Osborne had certainly paid court to Becky, but that she never gave him the least encouragement, and that she had never ceased to think about Jos from the very first day she had seen him, though, of course, her duties as a married woman were paramount - duties which she would preserve to her dying day, or until the bad climate in which Colonel Crawley was living should release her from a marriage that his cruelty had made odious.


Jos went away, convinced that she was the most virtuous, as she was one of the most fascinating of women, and revolving in his mind all sorts of benevolent schemes for her welfare.

Jos went away convinced that she was the most virtuous and fascinating of women, and considering all sorts of benevolent schemes for her welfare.


Her persecutions ought to be ended: she ought to return to the society of which she was an ornament.


She must quit that place and take a quiet lodging.


Amelia must come and see her and befriend her.


He would go and settle about it, and consult with the Major.

He would go and see to it, and consult with the Major.


She wept tears of heart-felt gratitude as she parted from him, and pressed his hand as the gallant stout gentleman stooped down to kiss hers.

She wept tears of heart-felt gratitude as she parted from him, and the gallant stout gentleman stooped to kiss her hand.


So Becky bowed Jos out of her little garret with as much grace as if it was a palace of which she did the honours; and that heavy gentleman having disappeared down the stairs, Max and Fritz came out of their hole, pipe in mouth, and she amused herself by mimicking Jos to them as she munched her cold bread and sausage and took draughts of her favourite brandy-and-water.

So Becky bowed Jos out of her little garret with as much grace as if it was a palace; and when he had disappeared down the stairs, the students came out of their hole, and she amused herself by mimicking Jos to them as she munched her cold bread and sausage and drank her favourite brandy-and-water.


Jos walked over to Dobbin's lodgings with great solemnity and there imparted to him the affecting history with which he had just been made acquainted, without, however, mentioning the play business of the night before.

Jos walked over to Dobbin's lodgings and there solemnly told him Becky's affecting history, without, however, mentioning the business of the night before.


And the two gentlemen were laying their heads together and consulting as to the best means of being useful to Mrs. Becky, while she was finishing her interrupted dejeuner a la fourchette.

And the two gentlemen laid their heads together and consulted about how to be useful to Mrs. Becky.


How was it that she had come to that little town?


How was it that she had no friends and was wandering about alone?


Little boys at school are taught in their earliest Latin book that the path of Avernus is very easy of descent.


Let us skip over the interval in the history of her downward progress.


She was not worse now than she had been in the days of her prosperity--only a little down on her luck.


As for Mrs. Amelia, she was a woman of such a soft and foolish disposition that when she heard of anybody unhappy, her heart straightway melted towards the sufferer; and as she had never thought or done anything mortally guilty herself, she had not that abhorrence for wickedness which distinguishes moralists much more knowing.

As for Mrs. Amelia, she was a woman of such a soft and foolish disposition that when she heard of anybody unhappy, her heart straightway melted.


If she spoiled everybody who came near her with kindness and compliments--if she begged pardon of all her servants for troubling them to answer the bell--if she apologized to a shopboy who showed her a piece of silk, or made a curtsey to a street-sweeper with a complimentary remark upon the elegant state of his crossing--and she was almost capable of every one of these follies--the notion that an old acquaintance was miserable was sure to soften her heart; nor would she hear of anybody's being deservedly unhappy.

If she begged pardon of all her servants for troubling them to answer the bell - and apologized to a shopboy who showed her a piece of silk - the idea that an old acquaintance was miserable was sure to soften her heart.


A world under such legislation as hers would not be a very orderly place of abode; but there are not many women, at least not of the rulers, who are of her sort.


This lady, I believe, would have abolished all gaols, punishments, handcuffs, whippings, poverty, sickness, hunger, in the world, and was such a mean-spirited creature that--we are obliged to confess it--she could even forget a mortal injury.


When the Major heard from Jos of the sentimental adventure which had just befallen the latter, he was not, it must be owned, nearly as much interested as the gentleman from Bengal.

When the Major heard from Jos of his sentimental adventure, he was not, it must be confessed, nearly as much pleased and interested as Joseph was.


On the contrary, his excitement was quite the reverse from a pleasurable one; he made use of a brief but improper expression regarding a poor woman in distress, saying, in fact, "The little minx, has she come to light again?"

On the contrary, he said, "The little minx, has she come to light again?"


He never had had the slightest liking for her, but had heartily mistrusted her from the very first moment when her green eyes had looked at, and turned away from, his own.

He had never liked Becky, but had mistrusted her from the very first moment when her green eyes had looked at, and turned away from, his own.


"That little devil brings mischief wherever she goes," the Major said disrespectfully.


"Who knows what sort of life she has been leading?


And what business has she here abroad and alone?


Don't tell me about persecutors and enemies; an honest woman always has friends and never is separated from her family.

Don't tell me about enemies; an honest woman always has friends.


He may have been disreputable and wicked, as you say.


I remember the confounded blackleg and the way in which he used to cheat and hoodwink poor George.

I remember the way in which the confounded blackleg used to cheat poor George.


Wasn't there a scandal about their separation?


I think I heard something," cried out Major Dobbin, who did not care much about gossip, and whom Jos tried in vain to convince that Mrs. Becky was in all respects a most injured and virtuous female.

I think I heard something." Jos tried in vain to convince him that Becky was an injured and virtuous female.


"Well, well; let's ask Mrs. George," said that arch-diplomatist of a Major.

"Well, well; let's ask Mrs. George," said the Major.


I suppose you will allow that she is a good judge at any rate, and knows what is right in such matters."

She knows what is right in such matters."


Emmy is very well," said Jos, who did not happen to be in love with his sister.

Emmy is all very well," said Jos, who did not happen to be in love with his sister.


By Gad, sir, she's the finest lady I ever met in my life," bounced out the Major.


"I say at once, let us go and ask her if this woman ought to be visited or not--I will be content with her verdict."

"Let us ask her if this woman ought to be visited or not - I will be content with her verdict."


Now this odious, artful rogue of a Major was thinking in his own mind that he was sure of his case.


Emmy, he remembered, was at one time cruelly and deservedly jealous of Rebecca, never mentioned her name but with a shrinking and terror--a jealous woman never forgives, thought Dobbin: and so the pair went across the street to Mrs. George's house, where she was contentedly warbling at a music lesson with Madame Strumpff.

Emmy had been deservedly jealous of Rebecca, never mentioning her name but with shrinking and terror. And a jealous woman never forgives, thought Dobbin: so they went to ask her.


When that lady took her leave, Jos opened the business with his usual pomp of words.


"Amelia, my dear," said he, "I have just had the most extraordinary--yes--God bless my soul!

"Amelia, my dear," said Jos, "I have had the most extraordinary


the most extraordinary adventure--an old friend--yes, a most interesting old friend of yours, and I may say in old times, has just arrived here, and I should like you to see her."

adventure - a most interesting old friend of yours has just arrived here, and I should like you to see her."


Major Dobbin, if you please not to break my scissors."


The Major was twirling them round by the little chain from which they sometimes hung to their lady's waist, and was thereby endangering his own eye.


"It is a woman whom I dislike very much," said the Major, doggedly, "and whom you have no cause to love."

"It is a woman whom I dislike very much," said the Major doggedly, "and whom you have no cause to love."


"It is Rebecca, I'm sure it is Rebecca," Amelia said, blushing and being very much agitated.

"It is Rebecca, I'm sure it is Rebecca," Amelia said, blushing.


"You are right; you always are," Dobbin answered.


Brussels, Waterloo, old, old times, griefs, pangs, remembrances, rushed back into Amelia's gentle heart and caused a cruel agitation there.

Brussels, Waterloo, old griefs and memories rushed back into Amelia's gentle heart.


"She is very unhappy, and--and that sort of thing," Jos urged.

"She is very unhappy, and - and that sort of thing," Jos urged.


"She is very poor and unprotected, and has been ill--exceedingly ill--and that scoundrel of a husband has deserted her."

"She is poor and unprotected, and has been ill - and that scoundrel of a husband has deserted her."


"She hasn't a friend in the world," Jos went on, not undexterously, "and she said she thought she might trust in you.

"She hasn't a friend in the world," Jos went on, "and she said she thought she might trust in you.


Her story quite affected me--'pon my word and honour, it did--never was such a cruel persecution borne so angelically, I may say.

Her story quite affected me, upon my honour


- her family has been most cruel to her."


"And if she can get no friend, she says she thinks she'll die," Jos proceeded in a low tremulous voice.

"And if she has no friend, she thinks she'll die," Jos proceeded in a low tremulous voice.


do you know that she tried to kill herself?


She carries laudanum with her--I saw the bottle in her room--such a miserable little room--at a third-rate house, the Elephant, up in the roof at the top of all.

I saw a bottle of laudanum in her room - such a miserable little room - at a third-rate house, the Elephant, up in the roof."


Perhaps she figured Jos to herself panting up the stair.


"She's beside herself with grief," he resumed.

"She's beside herself with grief," Jos resumed.


"The agonies that woman has endured are quite frightful to hear of.


She had a little boy, of the same age as Georgy."

She had a little boy, the same age as Georgy."


"Yes, yes, I think I remember," Emmy remarked.


"The most beautiful child ever seen," Jos said, who was very fat, and easily moved, and had been touched by the story Becky told; "a perfect angel, who adored his mother.

"The most beautiful child ever seen," Jos said; "a perfect angel, who adored his mother.


The ruffians tore him shrieking out of her arms, and have never allowed him to see her."


"Dear Joseph," Emmy cried out, starting up at once, "let us go and see her this minute."


And she ran into her adjoining bedchamber, tied on her bonnet in a flutter, came out with her shawl on her arm, and ordered Dobbin to follow.

And she ran into her room, fetched her bonnet and shawl, and ordered Dobbin to follow.


He went and put her shawl--it was a white cashmere, consigned to her by the Major himself from India--over her shoulders.


He saw there was nothing for it but to obey, and she put her hand into his arm, and they went away.

He saw there was nothing for it but to obey.


"It is number 92, up four pair of stairs," Jos said, perhaps not very willing to ascend the steps again; but he placed himself in the window of his drawing-room, which commands the place on which the Elephant stands, and saw the pair marching through the market.

"It is number 92, up four flights of stairs," Jos said, not very willing to ascend the steps again; but he stood in his drawing-room, and watched the pair marching through the market.


It was as well that Becky saw them too from her garret, for she and the two students were chattering and laughing there; they had been joking about the appearance of Becky's grandpapa--whose arrival and departure they had witnessed--but she had time to dismiss them, and have her little room clear before the landlord of the Elephant, who knew that Mrs. Osborne was a great favourite at the Serene Court, and respected her accordingly, led the way up the stairs to the roof story, encouraging Miladi and the Herr Major as they achieved the ascent.

It was as well that Becky saw them too from her garret, where she and the students were chattering and laughing about the appearance of her grandpapa. She had time to dismiss them before the landlord of the Elephant led Amelia up the stairs to her room.


said the landlord, knocking at Becky's door; he had called her Madame the day before, and was by no means courteous to her.

said the landlord, knocking at Becky's door; he had not been so courteous the day before.


Becky said, putting out her head, and she gave a little scream.


There stood Emmy in a tremble, and Dobbin, the tall Major, with his cane.

There stood Emmy in a tremble, and Dobbin with his cane.


He stood still watching, and very much interested at the scene; but Emmy sprang forward with open arms towards Rebecca, and forgave her at that moment, and embraced her and kissed her with all her heart.

He stood watching, and very much interested; but Emmy sprang forward with open arms, and forgave Rebecca at that moment, and embraced her with all her heart.


Ah, poor wretch, when was your lip pressed before by such pure kisses?

Ah, poor wretch, when was your lip ever pressed by such pure kisses?


About this time there drove up to an exceedingly snug and well-appointed house in Park Lane, a travelling chariot with a lozenge on the panels, a discontented female in a green veil and crimped curls on the rumble, and a large and confidential man on the box.

About this time, there drove up to a well-appointed house in Park Lane a carriage with a discontented female in a green veil on the outside seat, and a large confidential man on the box.


It was the equipage of our friend Miss Crawley, returning from Hants.

The carriage belonged to Miss Crawley, returning from Hampshire.


The carriage windows were shut; the fat spaniel, whose head and tongue ordinarily lolled out of one of them, reposed on the lap of the discontented female.

Its windows were shut; the fat spaniel sat on the lap of the discontented female.


When the vehicle stopped, a large round bundle of shawls was taken out of the carriage by the aid of various domestics and a young lady who accompanied the heap of cloaks.

When the vehicle stopped, a large round bundle of shawls was removed from it by servants and a young lady.


That bundle contained Miss Crawley, who was conveyed upstairs forthwith, and put into a bed and chamber warmed properly as for the reception of an invalid.

That bundle contained Miss Crawley, who was taken upstairs, and put into a bed warmed for the reception of an invalid.


Messengers went off for her physician and medical man.

Messengers went off for her medical men.


They came, consulted, prescribed, vanished.


The young companion of Miss Crawley, at the conclusion of their interview, came in to receive their instructions, and administered those antiphlogistic medicines which the eminent men ordered.

Miss Crawley's young companion came in to receive their instructions, and gave her medicines for fever which the doctors ordered.


Captain Crawley of the Life Guards rode up from Knightsbridge Barracks the next day; his black charger pawed the straw before his invalid aunt's door.

Captain Crawley of the Life Guards rode up from Knightsbridge Barracks the next day on his black charger.


He was most affectionate in his inquiries regarding that amiable relative.

He was most affectionate in his inquiries about his aunt.


There seemed to be much source of apprehension.


He found Miss Crawley's maid (the discontented female) unusually sulky and despondent; he found Miss Briggs, her dame de compagnie, in tears alone in the drawing-room.

He found Miss Crawley's maid (the discontented female) unusually sulky; he found Miss Briggs, her paid companion, in tears


She had hastened home, hearing of her beloved friend's illness.


She wished to fly to her couch, that couch which she, Briggs, had so often smoothed in the hour of sickness.


She was denied admission to Miss Crawley's apartment.

because she was denied admission to Miss Crawley's room.


A stranger was administering her medicines--a stranger from the country--an odious Miss ... --tears choked the utterance of the dame de compagnie, and she buried her crushed affections and her poor old red nose in her pocket handkerchief.

A stranger was giving her medicines - an odious Miss - tears choked her words, and she buried her red nose in her handkerchief.


Rawdon Crawley sent up his name by the sulky femme de chambre, and Miss Crawley's new companion, coming tripping down from the sick-room, put a little hand into his as he stepped forward eagerly to meet her, gave a glance of great scorn at the bewildered Briggs, and beckoning the young Guardsman out of the back drawing-room, led him downstairs into that now desolate dining-parlour, where so many a good dinner had been celebrated.

Rawdon Crawley sent up his name. Miss Crawley's new companion, tripping down from the sick-room, put a little hand into his as he stepped forward eagerly to meet her. With a scornful glance at Briggs, she led the young guardsman into the empty dining-parlour.


Here these two talked for ten minutes, discussing, no doubt, the symptoms of the old invalid above stairs; at the end of which period the parlour bell was rung briskly, and answered on that instant by Mr. Bowls, Miss Crawley's large confidential butler (who, indeed, happened to be at the keyhole during the most part of the interview); and the Captain coming out, curling his mustachios, mounted the black charger pawing among the straw, to the admiration of the little blackguard boys collected in the street.

Here these two talked for ten minutes, discussing, no doubt, the symptoms of the old invalid above stairs. Then the Captain came out, curling his mustachios, and mounted the black charger, to the admiration of the little boys in the street.


He looked in at the dining-room window, managing his horse, which curvetted and capered beautifully--for one instant the young person might be seen at the window, when her figure vanished, and, doubtless, she went upstairs again to resume the affecting duties of benevolence.

He looked in at the dining-room window: for one instant the young person was seen, before she went upstairs again to resume her caring duties.


Who could this young woman be, I wonder?


That evening a little dinner for two persons was laid in the dining-room--when Mrs. Firkin, the lady's maid, pushed into her mistress's apartment, and bustled about there during the vacancy occasioned by the departure of the new nurse--and the latter and Miss Briggs sat down to the neat little meal.

That evening a dinner for two was laid in the dining-room; and after Mrs. Firkin, the lady's maid, pushed into her mistress's room, the new nurse and Miss Briggs sat down to their meal.


Briggs was so much choked by emotion that she could hardly take a morsel of meat.

Briggs was so choked by emotion that she could hardly eat.


The young person carved a fowl with the utmost delicacy, and asked so distinctly for egg-sauce, that poor Briggs, before whom that delicious condiment was placed, started, made a great clattering with the ladle, and once more fell back in the most gushing hysterical state.

The young person delicately carved a fowl, and asked so distinctly for egg-sauce, that poor Briggs started, made a great clattering with the ladle, and fell back in a hysterical state.


"Had you not better give Miss Briggs a glass of wine?"


said the person to Mr. Bowls, the large confidential man.

said the person to Mr. Bowls, the large confidential man, who was the butler.


Briggs seized it mechanically, gasped it down convulsively, moaned a little, and began to play with the chicken on her plate.

Briggs seized the glass, gulped it down convulsively, moaned, and began to play with the chicken on her plate.


"I think we shall be able to help each other," said the person with great suavity: "and shall have no need of Mr. Bowls's kind services.

"I think we have no further need of Mr. Bowls's kind services," said the person suavely.


Mr. Bowls, if you please, we will ring when we want you."

"Mr. Bowls, we will ring when we want you."


He went downstairs, where, by the way, he vented the most horrid curses upon the unoffending footman, his subordinate.


"It is a pity you take on so, Miss Briggs," the young lady said, with a cool, slightly sarcastic, air.

Once he had left, she added with a cool, slightly sarcastic air, "It is a pity you take on so, Miss Briggs."


"My dearest friend is so ill, and wo-o-on't see me," gurgled out Briggs in an agony of renewed grief.

"My dearest friend is so ill, and wo-o-on't see me," gurgled Briggs in an agony of grief.


She has only overeaten herself--that is all.


She is weak from being cupped and from medical treatment, but she will rally immediately.


Pray console yourself, and take a little more wine."


"Oh, Matilda, Matilda, after three-and-twenty years' tenderness!

"Oh, Matilda, after three-and-twenty years' tenderness!


is this the return to your poor, poor Arabella?"

is this the return to your poor Arabella?"


"Don't cry too much, poor Arabella," the other said (with ever so little of a grin); "she only won't see you, because she says you don't nurse her as well as I do.

"Don't cry too much, poor Arabella," the other said; "she only won't see you, because she says you don't nurse her as well as I do.


It's no pleasure to me to sit up all night.


"Have I not tended that dear couch for years?"


Well, sick people have these fancies, and must be humoured.


"Never, never," Arabella exclaimed, madly inhaling her salts-bottle.

"Never, never," Arabella exclaimed, madly inhaling her smelling-salts.


"Never be well or never go, Miss Briggs?"


the other said, with the same provoking good-nature.


"Pooh--she will be well in a fortnight, when I shall go back to my little pupils at Queen's Crawley, and to their mother, who is a great deal more sick than our friend.

Pooh - she will be well in a fortnight, and I shall go back to my pupils at Queen's Crawley, and to their mother, who is a great deal more sick than our friend.


You need not be jealous about me, my dear Miss Briggs.

You need not be jealous, my dear Miss Briggs.


I am a poor little girl without any friends, or any harm in me.

I am a poor little harmless girl without any friends.


I don't want to supplant you in Miss Crawley's good graces.


She will forget me a week after I am gone: and her affection for you has been the work of years.

Miss Crawley will forget me a week after I am gone: and her affection for you has been the work of years.


Give me a little wine if you please, my dear Miss Briggs, and let us be friends.

Give me a little wine, please, my dear Miss Briggs, and let us be friends.


The placable and soft-hearted Briggs speechlessly pushed out her hand at this appeal; but she felt the desertion most keenly for all that, and bitterly, bitterly moaned the fickleness of her Matilda.

The soft-hearted Briggs speechlessly pushed out her hand at this appeal; but she felt the desertion keenly for all that, and bitterly moaned the fickleness of her Matilda.


At the end of half an hour, the meal over, Miss Rebecca Sharp (for such, astonishing to state, is the name of her who has been described ingeniously as "the person" hitherto), went upstairs again to her patient's rooms, from which, with the most engaging politeness, she eliminated poor Firkin.

At the end of the meal, Miss Rebecca Sharp (for such, astonishingly, is the name of the nurse) went upstairs again to her patient's rooms, from which she politely eliminated poor Firkin.


"Thank you, Mrs. Firkin, that will quite do; how nicely you make it!


"Thank you"; and Firkin came downstairs in a tempest of jealousy, only the more dangerous because she was forced to confine it in her own bosom.

Firkin came downstairs in a tempest of jealousy.


Could it be the tempest which, as she passed the landing of the first floor, blew open the drawing-room door?


No; it was stealthily opened by the hand of Briggs.


, who had been on the watch for her, opened the door.


Briggs too well heard the creaking Firkin descend the stairs, and the clink of the spoon and gruel-basin the neglected female carried.


says she, as the other entered the apartment.


"Wuss and wuss, Miss B.," Firkin said, wagging her head.


"She never spoke but once, and I asked her if she felt a little more easy, and she told me to hold my stupid tongue.

"She only spoke once, when she told me to hold my stupid tongue.


Oh, Miss B., I never thought to have seen this day!"


And the water-works again began to play.


"What sort of a person is this Miss Sharp, Firkin?


I little thought, while enjoying my Christmas revels in the elegant home of my firm friends, the Reverend Lionel Delamere and his amiable lady, to find a stranger had taken my place in the affections of my dearest, my still dearest Matilda!"

I little thought to find a stranger had taken my place in the affections of my dearest, my still dearest Matilda!"


Miss Briggs, it will be seen by her language, was of a literary and sentimental turn, and had once published a volume of poems--"Trills of the Nightingale"--by subscription.

Miss Briggs was of a literary and sentimental turn, and had once published a volume of poems - "Trills of the Nightingale."


"Miss B., they are all infatyated about that young woman," Firkin replied.

"They are all infatyated about that young woman," Firkin replied.


"Sir Pitt wouldn't have let her go, but he daredn't refuse Miss Crawley anything.

"Sir Pitt wouldn't have let her go, but he daredn't refuse Miss Crawley.


Mrs. Bute at the Rectory jist as bad--never happy out of her sight.


Since Miss C. was took ill, she won't have nobody near her but Miss Sharp, I can't tell for where nor for why; and I think somethink has bewidged everybody."

Since Miss C. was took ill, she won't have nobody near her but Miss Sharp, I can't tell for why. I think somethink has bewidged everybody."


Rebecca passed that night in constant watching upon Miss Crawley; the next night the old lady slept so comfortably, that Rebecca had time for several hours' comfortable repose herself on the sofa, at the foot of her patroness's bed; very soon, Miss Crawley was so well that she sat up and laughed heartily at a perfect imitation of Miss Briggs and her grief, which Rebecca described to her.

Rebecca passed that night watching over Miss Crawley. The next night the old lady slept comfortably, so that Rebecca had several hours' rest on the sofa at the foot of the bed. Very soon, Miss Crawley was so well that she sat up and laughed at Rebecca's imitation of Miss Briggs and her


Briggs' weeping snuffle, and her manner of using the handkerchief, were so completely rendered that Miss Crawley became quite cheerful, to the admiration of the doctors when they visited her, who usually found this worthy woman of the world, when the least sickness attacked her, under the most abject depression and terror of death.

weeping sniffle. Miss Crawley became quite cheerful, to the admiration of her doctors, who usually found her depressed by the least sickness, and in the most abject terror of death.


Captain Crawley came every day, and received bulletins from Miss Rebecca respecting his aunt's health.

Captain Crawley came every day, and received bulletins from Miss Rebecca about his aunt's health.


This improved so rapidly, that poor Briggs was allowed to see her patroness; and persons with tender hearts may imagine the smothered emotions of that sentimental female, and the affecting nature of the interview.

Poor Briggs was allowed to see her patroness; and


Miss Crawley liked to have Briggs in a good deal soon.

soon Miss Crawley liked to have Briggs in a good deal


Rebecca used to mimic her to her face with the most admirable gravity, thereby rendering the imitation doubly piquant to her worthy patroness.

, for Rebecca used to mimic her with the most admirable gravity.


The causes which had led to the deplorable illness of Miss Crawley, and her departure from her brother's house in the country, were of such an unromantic nature that they are hardly fit to be explained in this genteel and sentimental novel.

The causes of Miss Crawley's illness were of such an unromantic nature that they are hardly fit to be explained in this genteel novel.


For how is it possible to hint of a delicate female, living in good society, that she ate and drank too much, and that a hot supper of lobsters profusely enjoyed at the Rectory was the reason of an indisposition which Miss Crawley herself persisted was solely attributable to the dampness of the weather?

For how is it possible to hint that a delicate female ate and drank too much, and that a hot supper of lobsters at the Rectory was the reason for her sickness?


The attack was so sharp that Matilda--as his Reverence expressed it--was very nearly "off the hooks"; all the family were in a fever of expectation regarding the will, and Rawdon Crawley was making sure of at least forty thousand pounds before the commencement of the London season.

The attack was so sharp that all the family were in a fever of expectation about the will, and Rawdon Crawley felt sure of forty thousand pounds before long.


Mr. Crawley sent over a choice parcel of tracts, to prepare her for the change from Vanity Fair and Park Lane for another world; but a good doctor from Southampton being called in in time, vanquished the lobster which was so nearly fatal to her, and gave her sufficient strength to enable her to return to London.

Mr. Crawley sent over a parcel of tracts, to prepare her for the change from Vanity Fair for another world; but a doctor vanquished the lobster, and gave her sufficient strength to return to London.


The Baronet did not disguise his exceeding mortification at the turn which affairs took.


While everybody was attending on Miss Crawley, and messengers every hour from the Rectory were carrying news of her health to the affectionate folks there, there was a lady in another part of the house, being exceedingly ill, of whom no one took any notice at all; and this was the lady of Crawley herself.

While everybody was attending on Miss Crawley, there was a lady in another part of the house at Queen's Crawley, being exceedingly ill, of whom no one took any notice; and this was Lady Crawley herself.


The good doctor shook his head after seeing her; to which visit Sir Pitt consented, as it could be paid without a fee; and she was left fading away in her lonely chamber, with no more heed paid to her than to a weed in the park.

The good doctor shook his head after seeing her; and she was left fading away in her lonely chamber, with no more heed paid to her than to a weed in the park.


The young ladies, too, lost much of the inestimable benefit of their governess's instruction, So affectionate a nurse was Miss Sharp, that Miss Crawley would take her medicines from no other hand.

The young ladies lost their governess. Miss Sharp was so affectionate a nurse that Miss Crawley would take her medicines from no other hand.


Firkin had been deposed long before her mistress's departure from the country.


That faithful attendant found a gloomy consolation on returning to London, in seeing Miss Briggs suffer the same pangs of jealousy and undergo the same faithless treatment to which she herself had been subject.


Captain Rawdon got an extension of leave on his aunt's illness, and remained dutifully at home.

Captain Rawdon got leave, and remained dutifully at home.


(She lay sick in the state bedroom, into which you entered by the little blue saloon.)


His father was always meeting him there; or if he came down the corridor ever so quietly, his father's door was sure to open, and the hyena face of the old gentleman to glare out.

; if he came down the corridor ever so quietly, his father's door was sure to open, and the hyena face of the old gentleman glared out.


What was it set one to watch the other so?


A generous rivalry, no doubt, as to which should be most attentive to the dear sufferer in the state bedroom.

A generous rivalry, no doubt, as to which should be most attentive to the dear sufferer.


Rebecca used to come out and comfort both of them; or one or the other of them rather.


Both of these worthy gentlemen were most anxious to have news of the invalid from her little confidential messenger.


At dinner--to which meal she descended for half an hour--she kept the peace between them: after which she disappeared for the night; when Rawdon would ride over to the depot of the 150th at Mudbury, leaving his papa to the society of Mr. Horrocks and his rum and water.

At dinner she kept the peace between them: after which she disappeared for the night.


She passed as weary a fortnight as ever mortal spent in Miss Crawley's sick-room; but her little nerves seemed to be of iron, as she was quite unshaken by the duty and the tedium of the sick-chamber.

She passed a weary fortnight in Miss Crawley's sick-room; but her little nerves seemed to be of iron, as she was quite unshaken by the duty of the sick-chamber.


She never told until long afterwards how painful that duty was; how peevish a patient was the jovial old lady; how angry; how sleepless; in what horrors of death; during what long nights she lay moaning, and in almost delirious agonies respecting that future world which she quite ignored when she was in good health.--Picture to yourself, oh fair young reader, a worldly, selfish, graceless, thankless, religionless old woman, writhing in pain and fear, and without her wig.

She never told until long afterwards how painful that duty was, and how peevish her patient; how angry and sleepless; in what horrors of death, so that she lay moaning in agonies about that future world which she ignored when she was in good health.


Picture her to yourself, and ere you be old, learn to love and pray!


Sharp watched this graceless bedside with indomitable patience.

Miss Sharp watched this graceless bedside patiently.


Nothing escaped her; and, like a prudent steward, she found a use for everything.


She told many a good story about Miss Crawley's illness in after days--stories which made the lady blush through her artificial carnations.


During the illness she was never out of temper; always alert; she slept light, having a perfectly clear conscience; and could take that refreshment at almost any minute's warning.

She was never out of temper; always alert; she slept light, and could do so at a minute's warning.


And so you saw very few traces of fatigue in her appearance.

So you saw very few traces of fatigue in her appearance.


Her face might be a trifle paler, and the circles round her eyes a little blacker than usual; but whenever she came out from the sick-room she was always smiling, fresh, and neat, and looked as trim in her little dressing-gown and cap, as in her smartest evening suit.

Her face might be a trifle paler, and the circles round her eyes a little darker than usual; but whenever she came out from the sick-room she was always smiling, fresh, and neat.


The Captain thought so, and raved about her in uncouth convulsions.


The barbed shaft of love had penetrated his dull hide.


Six weeks--appropinquity--opportunity--had victimised him completely.

Six weeks had victimised him completely.


He made a confidante of his aunt at the Rectory, of all persons in the world.


She rallied him about it; she had perceived his folly; she warned him; she finished by owning that little Sharp was the most clever, droll, odd, good-natured, simple, kindly creature in England.

people; and she admitted that little Sharp was the most clever, droll, odd, kind creature in England.


Rawdon must not trifle with her affections, though--dear Miss Crawley would never pardon him for that; for she, too, was quite overcome by the little governess, and loved Sharp like a daughter.

Rawdon must not trifle with her affections, though, she said - dear Miss Crawley would never pardon him for that; for she loved Sharp like a daughter.


Rawdon must go away--go back to his regiment and naughty London, and not play with a poor artless girl's feelings.

Rawdon must go away, back to his regiment and naughty London, and not play with a poor artless girl's feelings.


Many and many a time this good-natured lady, compassionating the forlorn life-guardsman's condition, gave him an opportunity of seeing Miss Sharp at the Rectory, and of walking home with her, as we have seen.

Many a time this good-natured lady, pitying the forlorn life-guardsman, gave him an opportunity of seeing Miss Sharp at the Rectory, and of walking home with her.


When men of a certain sort, ladies, are in love, though they see the hook and the string, and the whole apparatus with which they are to be taken, they gorge the bait nevertheless--they must come to it--they must swallow it--and are presently struck and landed gasping.


Rawdon saw there was a manifest intention on Mrs. Bute's part to captivate him with Rebecca.

Rawdon saw there was a clear intention on Mrs. Bute's part to captivate him with Rebecca.


He was not very wise; but he was a man about town, and had seen several seasons.

He was not very wise; but he was a man about town.


A light dawned upon his dusky soul, as he thought, through a speech of Mrs. Bute's.

A light dawned upon his dusky soul, as he thought, during a speech of Mrs. Bute's.


"You will have Miss Sharp one day for your relation."


"What relation--my cousin, hey, Mrs. Bute?


"More than that," Mrs. Bute said, with a flash from her black eyes.


You silly, blind creature--if anything happens to Lady Crawley, Miss Sharp will be your mother-in-law; and that's what will happen."

You silly, blind creature - if anything happens to Lady Crawley, Miss Sharp will be your stepmother; that's what will happen."


Rawdon Crawley, Esquire, gave vent to a prodigious whistle, in token of astonishment at this announcement.

Rawdon Crawley gave vent to a prodigious whistle of astonishment.


His father's evident liking for Miss Sharp had not escaped him.

His father's liking for Miss Sharp had not escaped him.


He knew the old gentleman's character well; and a more unscrupulous old--whyou--he did not conclude the sentence, but walked home, curling his mustachios, and convinced he had found a clue to Mrs. Bute's mystery.

He knew the unscrupulous old gentleman's character well; and he walked home, curling his mustachios, and convinced he had discovered Mrs. Bute's intentions.


"By Jove, it's too bad," thought Rawdon, "too bad, by Jove!

"By Jove, it's too bad," thought Rawdon.


I do believe the woman wants the poor girl to be ruined, in order that she shouldn't come into the family as Lady Crawley."

"I do believe the woman wants the poor girl to be ruined, so that she shouldn't come into the family as Lady Crawley."


When he saw Rebecca alone, he rallied her about his father's attachment in his graceful way.

When he saw Rebecca alone, he rallied her about his father's attachment.


She flung up her head scornfully, looked him full in the face, and said,


You don't think I am afraid of him, Captain Crawley?


You don't suppose I can't defend my own honour," said the little woman, looking as stately as a queen.

suppose I can defend my own honour, Captain Crawley?"


"Oh, ah, why--give you fair warning--look out, you know--that's all," said the mustachio-twiddler.

"Oh, ah - give you fair warning, that's all," said the mustachio-twiddler.


"You hint at something not honourable, then?"


"O Gad--really--Miss Rebecca," the heavy dragoon interposed.


"Do you suppose I have no feeling of self-respect, because I am poor and friendless, and because rich people have none?

"Do you suppose I have no self-respect, because I am poor and friendless, and because rich people have none?


Do you think, because I am a governess, I have not as much sense, and feeling, and good breeding as you gentlefolks in Hampshire?

Do you think, because I am a governess, I have not as much sense and good breeding as you gentlefolks in Hampshire?


Do you suppose a Montmorency is not as good as a Crawley?"


When Miss Sharp was agitated, and alluded to her maternal relatives, she spoke with ever so slight a foreign accent, which gave a great charm to her clear ringing voice.

Miss Sharp spoke with ever so slight a foreign accent, which gave a great charm to her clear ringing voice.


"No," she continued, kindling as she spoke to the Captain; "I can endure poverty, but not shame--neglect, but not insult; and insult from--from you."

"No," she continued; "I can endure poverty, but not shame - neglect, but not insult; and insult from - from you."


Her feelings gave way, and she burst into tears.


"Hang it, Miss Sharp--Rebecca--by Jove--upon my soul, I wouldn't for a thousand pounds.

"Hang it, Miss Sharp - Rebecca - by Jove - upon my soul, I wouldn't for a thousand pounds!"


She drove out with Miss Crawley that day.


At dinner she was unusually brilliant and lively; but she would take no notice of the hints, or the nods, or the clumsy expostulations of the humiliated, infatuated guardsman.

At dinner she was unusually brilliant and lively; but she would take no notice of the hints of the infatuated guardsman.


Skirmishes of this sort passed perpetually during the little campaign--tedious to relate, and similar in result.

Skirmishes of this sort happened perpetually.


The Crawley heavy cavalry was maddened by defeat, and routed every day.


If the Baronet of Queen's Crawley had not had the fear of losing his sister's legacy before his eyes, he never would have permitted his dear girls to lose the educational blessings which their invaluable governess was conferring upon them.


The old house at home seemed a desert without her, so useful and pleasant had Rebecca made herself there.

the old Baronet missed Rebecca. Queen's Crawley seemed a desert without her, so useful and pleasant had she made herself there.


Sir Pitt's letters were not copied and corrected; his books not made up; his household business and manifold schemes neglected, now that his little secretary was away.

Sir Pitt's letters were not copied and corrected; his accounts were not made up; his household business was neglected, now that his little secretary was away.


And it was easy to see how necessary such an amanuensis was to him, by the tenor and spelling of the numerous letters which he sent to her, entreating her and commanding her to return.

And it was easy to see how necessary such a secretary was to him, by the spelling of the numerous letters which he sent to her and Miss Crawley, begging for her return.


Almost every day brought a frank from the Baronet, enclosing the most urgent prayers to Becky for her return, or conveying pathetic statements to Miss Crawley, regarding the neglected state of his daughters' education; of which documents Miss Crawley took very little heed.

Miss Crawley took very little heed of these letters.


Miss Briggs was not formally dismissed, but her place as companion was a sinecure and a derision; and her company was the fat spaniel in the drawing-room, or occasionally the discontented Firkin in the housekeeper's closet.


Nor though the old lady would by no means hear of Rebecca's departure, was the latter regularly installed in office in Park Lane.

Though the old lady would not hear of Rebecca's departure, she did not give her a regular position.


Like many wealthy people, it was Miss Crawley's habit to accept as much service as she could get from her inferiors; and good-naturedly to take leave of them when she no longer found them useful.

Like many wealthy people, Miss Crawley would accept as much service as she could get from her inferiors, and take leave of them when she no longer found them useful.


Gratitude among certain rich folks is scarcely natural or to be thought of.

Gratitude among certain rich folks is scarcely to be thought of.


They take needy people's services as their due.

They take people's services as their due.


Nor have you, O poor parasite and humble hanger-on, much reason to complain!


Your friendship for Dives is about as sincere as the return which it usually gets.


It is money you love, and not the man; and were Croesus and his footman to change places you know, you poor rogue, who would have the benefit of your allegiance.


And I am not sure that, in spite of Rebecca's simplicity and activity, and gentleness and untiring good humour, the shrewd old London lady, upon whom these treasures of friendship were lavished, had not a lurking suspicion all the while of her affectionate nurse and friend.

And I am not sure that, in spite of Rebecca's simplicity and untiring good humour, the shrewd old London lady had not a lurking suspicion of her nurse.


It must have often crossed Miss Crawley's mind that nobody does anything for nothing.

It must have crossed Miss Crawley's mind that nobody does anything for nothing.


If she measured her own feeling towards the world, she must have been pretty well able to gauge those of the world towards herself; and perhaps she reflected that it is the ordinary lot of people to have no friends if they themselves care for nobody.


Well, meanwhile Becky was the greatest comfort and convenience to her, and she gave her a couple of new gowns, and an old necklace and shawl, and showed her friendship by abusing all her intimate acquaintances to her new confidante (than which there can't be a more touching proof of regard), and meditated vaguely some great future benefit--to marry her perhaps to Clump, the apothecary, or to settle her in some advantageous way of life; or at any rate, to send her back to Queen's Crawley when she had done with her, and the full London season had begun.

Well, meanwhile Becky was the greatest comfort and convenience, and Miss Crawley gave her a couple of new gowns, and an old necklace and shawl, and meditated vaguely some great future benefit - to marry her perhaps to Clump, the apothecary, or to settle her in some way; or at any rate, to send her back to Queen's Crawley when she had done with her, and the London season had begun.


When Miss Crawley was convalescent and descended to the drawing-room, Becky sang to her, and otherwise amused her; when she was well enough to drive out, Becky accompanied her.

When Miss Crawley was convalescent and had descended to the drawing-room, Becky sang to her, and amused her; and accompanied her when she drove out.


And amongst the drives which they took, whither, of all places in the world, did Miss Crawley's admirable good-nature and friendship actually induce her to penetrate, but to Russell Square, Bloomsbury, and the house of John Sedley, Esquire.

One day, where of all places in the world did Miss Crawley decide to drive to, but Russell Square, and the house of John Sedley, Esquire.


Ere that event, many notes had passed, as may be imagined, between the two dear friends.

Many notes had passed between the two dear friends


During the months of Rebecca's stay in Hampshire, the eternal friendship had (must it be owned?)

; but during Rebecca's stay in Hampshire, the eternal friendship had


suffered considerable diminution, and grown so decrepit and feeble with old age as to threaten demise altogether.


The fact is, both girls had their own real affairs to think of: Rebecca her advance with her employers--Amelia her own absorbing topic.

Both girls had their own affairs to think of.


When the two girls met, and flew into each other's arms with that impetuosity which distinguishes the behaviour of young ladies towards each other, Rebecca performed her part of the embrace with the most perfect briskness and energy.

When they now met, and flew into each other's arms, Rebecca performed her embrace with the most perfect briskness.


Poor little Amelia blushed as she kissed her friend, and thought she had been guilty of something very like coldness towards her.

Poor little Amelia blushed as she kissed her friend, and thought she had been guilty of coldness towards her.


Their first interview was but a very short one.


Amelia was just ready to go out for a walk.


Miss Crawley was waiting in her carriage below, her people wondering at the locality in which they found themselves, and gazing upon honest Sambo, the black footman of Bloomsbury, as one of the queer natives of the place.

Miss Crawley was waiting in her carriage below, her people wondering at the locality in which they found themselves, and gazing upon honest Sambo, the black footman, as one of the queer natives of the place.


But when Amelia came down with her kind smiling looks (Rebecca must introduce her to her friend, Miss Crawley was longing to see her, and was too ill to leave her carriage)--when, I say, Amelia came down, the Park Lane shoulder-knot aristocracy wondered more and more that such a thing could come out of Bloomsbury; and Miss Crawley was fairly captivated by the sweet blushing face of the young lady who came forward so timidly and so gracefully to pay her respects to the protector of her friend.

But when Amelia came down so that Rebecca could introduce her, Miss Crawley was captivated by her sweet blushing face as she timidly paid her respects.


Miss Crawley said, as they drove away westward after the little interview.

Miss Crawley said, as they drove away afterwards.


"My dear Sharp, your young friend is charming.


Send for her to Park Lane, do you hear?"


She liked natural manners--a little timidity only set them off.


She liked pretty faces near her; as she liked pretty pictures and nice china.

and pretty faces, as she liked pretty pictures and nice china.


She talked of Amelia with rapture half a dozen times that day.


She mentioned her to Rawdon Crawley, who came dutifully to partake of his aunt's chicken.

, and mentioned her to Rawdon Crawley, who came to dine.


Of course, on this Rebecca instantly stated that Amelia was engaged to be married--to a Lieutenant Osborne--a very old flame.

Of course, at this Rebecca instantly stated that Amelia was engaged to be married to a Lieutenant Osborne - a very old flame.


Captain Crawley asked, remembering after an effort, as became a guardsman, the number of the regiment, the --th.


"The Captain's name," she said, "was Captain Dobbin."

"The Captain's name is Dobbin," she said.


"A lanky gawky fellow," said Crawley, "tumbles over everybody.


I know him; and Osborne's a goodish-looking fellow, with large black whiskers?"


"Enormous," Miss Rebecca Sharp said, "and enormously proud of them, I assure you."

"Enormous," said Rebecca, "and enormously proud of them, I assure you."


Captain Rawdon Crawley burst into a horse-laugh by way of reply; and being pressed by the ladies to explain, did so when the explosion of hilarity was over.

Captain Rawdon Crawley burst into a laugh.


"He fancies he can play at billiards," said he.

"Osborne fancies he can play billiards," said he.


"I won two hundred of him at the Cocoa-Tree.

"I won two hundred from him at the Cocoa-Tree


He'd have played for anything that day, but his friend Captain Dobbin carried him off, hang him!"

before Captain Dobbin carried him off, hang him!"


"Rawdon, Rawdon, don't be so wicked," Miss Crawley remarked, highly pleased.

"Rawdon, don't be so wicked," Miss Crawley remarked, highly pleased.


"Why, ma'am, of all the young fellows I've seen out of the line, I think this fellow's the greenest.

"Why, ma'am, of all the young fellows I've seen, I think this fellow's the greenest.


Tarquin and Deuceace get what money they like out of him.


He'd go to the deuce to be seen with a lord.


He pays their dinners at Greenwich, and they invite the company."


"And very pretty company too, I dare say."


and the Captain laughed more and more, thinking he had made a good joke.


"Well, his father's a City man--immensely rich, they say.

"Well, his father's a City man, immensely rich, they say.


Hang those City fellows, they must bleed; and I've not done with him yet, I can tell you.


"Fie, Captain Crawley; I shall warn Amelia.


the Captain said with great solemnity; and then added, a sudden thought having struck him: "Gad, I say, ma'am, we'll have him here."

the Captain said; and then added as a sudden thought struck him: "Gad, ma'am, we'll have him here."


You wouldn't see any difference," Captain Crawley answered.


"Do let's have him, when you begin to see a few people; and his whatdyecallem--his inamorato--eh, Miss Sharp; that's what you call it--comes.

"Do let's have him, when Miss Sedley comes.


Gad, I'll write him a note, and have him; and I'll try if he can play piquet as well as billiards.

I'll write him a note, and see if he can play piquet as well as billiards."


Miss Sharp told Crawley the Lieutenant's town address; and a few days after this conversation, Lieutenant Osborne received a letter, in Captain Rawdon's schoolboy hand, and enclosing a note of invitation from Miss Crawley.

A few days later, Lieutenant Osborne received a letter, in Captain Rawdon's schoolboy hand, enclosing an invitation from Miss Crawley.


Rebecca despatched also an invitation to her darling Amelia, who, you may be sure, was ready enough to accept it when she heard that George was to be of the party.

Rebecca sent an invitation to her darling Amelia, who was ready to accept it when she heard that George was to be there.


It was arranged that Amelia was to spend the morning with the ladies of Park Lane, where all were very kind to her.

Amelia spent the morning with the ladies of Park Lane, who were very kind to her.


Rebecca patronised her with calm superiority: she was so much the cleverer of the two, and her friend so gentle and unassuming, that she always yielded when anybody chose to command, and so took Rebecca's orders with perfect meekness and good humour.

Rebecca patronised her with calm superiority; Amelia yielded to her orders with perfect meekness.


Miss Crawley's graciousness was also remarkable.


She continued her raptures about little Amelia, talked about her before her face as if she were a doll, or a servant, or a picture, and admired her with the most benevolent wonder possible.

Miss Crawley continued her raptures about little Amelia, talked about her as if she were a doll, and admired her with benevolent wonder.


I admire that admiration which the genteel world sometimes extends to the commonalty.


There is no more agreeable object in life than to see Mayfair folks condescending.

There is no more agreeable sight than to see Mayfair folks condescending.


Miss Crawley's prodigious benevolence rather fatigued poor little Amelia, and I am not sure that of the three ladies in Park Lane she did not find honest Miss Briggs the most agreeable.

Miss Crawley's benevolence rather fatigued poor Amelia, and I am not sure that of the three ladies in Park Lane she did not find honest Miss Briggs the most agreeable.


She sympathised with Briggs as with all neglected or gentle people: she wasn't what you call a woman of spirit.

She sympathised with Briggs as with all neglected or gentle people.


George came to dinner--a repast en garcon with Captain Crawley.

George came to dinner with Captain Crawley.


The great family coach of the Osbornes transported him to Park Lane from Russell Square; where the young ladies, who were not themselves invited, and professed the greatest indifference at that slight, nevertheless looked at Sir Pitt Crawley's name in the baronetage; and learned everything which that work had to teach about the Crawley family and their pedigree, and the Binkies, their relatives, &c., &c. Rawdon Crawley received George Osborne with great frankness and graciousness: praised his play at billiards: asked him when he would have his revenge: was interested about Osborne's regiment: and would have proposed piquet to him that very evening, but Miss Crawley absolutely forbade any gambling in her house; so that the young Lieutenant's purse was not lightened by his gallant patron, for that day at least.

Rawdon praised his play at billiards and asked when he would have his revenge: was interested about Osborne's regiment: and would have proposed piquet that very evening, but Miss Crawley forbade gambling in her house; so the young Lieutenant's purse was not lightened by his gallant patron, that day at least.


However, they made an engagement for the next, somewhere: to look at a horse that Crawley had to sell, and to try him in the Park; and to dine together, and to pass the evening with some jolly fellows.

However, they made an engagement for the next, to look at a horse that Crawley had to sell, and to try him in the Park; and to dine together, and to pass the evening with some jolly fellows.


"That is, if you're not on duty to that pretty Miss Sedley," Crawley said, with a knowing wink.


"Monstrous nice girl, 'pon my honour, though, Osborne," he was good enough to add.


Osborne wasn't on duty; he would join Crawley with pleasure: and the latter, when they met the next day, praised his new friend's horsemanship--as he might with perfect honesty--and introduced him to three or four young men of the first fashion, whose acquaintance immensely elated the simple young officer.

Osborne wasn't on duty; he would join Crawley with pleasure.


Osborne inquired of his friend over their wine, with a dandified air.

Osborne inquired of his friend over their wine.


Does she suit you well at Queen's Crawley?


Miss Sedley liked her a good deal last year."


Captain Crawley looked savagely at the Lieutenant out of his little blue eyes, and watched him when he went up to resume his acquaintance with the fair governess.

Captain Crawley looked savagely at the Lieutenant, and watched him when he went up to greet Rebecca.


Her conduct must have relieved Crawley if there was any jealousy in the bosom of that life-guardsman.

Her conduct must have relieved Crawley of any jealousy.


When the young men went upstairs, and after Osborne's introduction to Miss Crawley, he walked up to Rebecca with a patronising, easy swagger.

Osborne walked up to her with a patronising, easy swagger.


He was going to be kind to her and protect her.


He would even shake hands with her, as a friend of Amelia's; and saying, "Ah, Miss Sharp!


held out his left hand towards her, expecting that she would be quite confounded at the honour.

he held out his hand towards her, expecting that she would be quite confounded at this honour.


Miss Sharp put out her right forefinger, and gave him a little nod, so cool and killing, that Rawdon Crawley, watching the operations from the other room, could hardly restrain his laughter as he saw the Lieutenant's entire discomfiture; the start he gave, the pause, and the perfect clumsiness with which he at length condescended to take the finger which was offered for his embrace.

Miss Sharp put out her right forefinger, and gave him a little nod, so cool and killing that Rawdon, watching from the other room, could hardly restrain his laughter as he saw the Lieutenant's discomfiture; the start he gave, and the clumsiness with which he at length took the offered finger,


the Captain said, in a rapture; and the Lieutenant, by way of beginning the conversation, agreeably asked Rebecca how she liked her new place.

and asked her how she liked her new place.


said Miss Sharp, coolly, "how kind of you to remind me of it!

said Miss Sharp coolly. "How kind of you to remind me of it!


It's a tolerably good place: the wages are pretty good--not so good as Miss Wirt's, I believe, with your sisters in Russell Square.

It's a tolerably good place: the wages are pretty good. How are your sisters


How are those young ladies?--not that I ought to ask."


"Why, they never condescended to speak to me, or to ask me into their house, whilst I was staying with Amelia; but we poor governesses, you know, are used to slights of this sort."

"Why, they never condescended to speak to me, whilst I was staying with Amelia; but we poor governesses, you know, are used to slights of this sort."


"At least in some families," Rebecca continued.


"You can't think what a difference there is though.


We are not so wealthy in Hampshire as you lucky folks of the City.


But then I am in a gentleman's family--good old English stock.

But I am in a gentleman's family - good old English stock.


I suppose you know Sir Pitt's father refused a peerage.


The little governess patronised him and persiffled him until this young British Lion felt quite uneasy; nor could he muster sufficient presence of mind to find a pretext for backing out of this most delectable conversation.

The little governess patronised him until he felt most uneasy; nor could he find a pretext for backing out of this conversation.


"I thought you liked the City families pretty well," he said, haughtily.


"Last year you mean, when I was fresh from that horrid vulgar school?


Doesn't every girl like to come home for the holidays?


But oh, Mr. Osborne, what a difference eighteen months' experience makes!


eighteen months spent, pardon me for saying so, with gentlemen.

Eighteen months spent, pardon me for saying so, with gentlemen.


As for dear Amelia, she, I grant you, is a pearl, and would be charming anywhere.

As for dear Amelia, she is a pearl, and would be charming anywhere.


There now, I see you are beginning to be in a good humour; but oh these queer odd City people!

There now, I see you are beginning to be in a good humour.


And Mr. Jos--how is that wonderful Mr. Joseph?"

And Mr. Jos - how is that wonderful Mr. Joseph?"


"It seems to me you didn't dislike that wonderful Mr. Joseph last year," Osborne said kindly.

"It seems to me you didn't dislike that wonderful Mr. Joseph last year," Osborne said.


Well, entre nous, I didn't break my heart about him; yet if he had asked me to do what you mean by your looks (and very expressive and kind they are, too), I wouldn't have said no."

"Well, I didn't break my heart about him; yet if he had asked me, I wouldn't have said no."


Mr. Osborne gave a look as much as to say, "Indeed, how very obliging!"

Mr. Osborne gave her a look as if to say, "Indeed, how very obliging!"


"What an honour to have had you for a brother-in-law, you are thinking?


To be sister-in-law to George Osborne, Esquire, son of John Osborne, Esquire, son of--what was your grandpapa, Mr. Osborne?

To be sister-in-law to George Osborne, Esquire, son of John Osborne, Esquire, son of - what was your grandpapa, Mr. Osborne?


You can't help your pedigree, and I quite agree with you that I would have married Mr. Joe Sedley; for could a poor penniless girl do better?

You can't help your pedigree, and I quite agree with you that I would have married Mr. Joe Sedley; for could a penniless girl do better?


I'm frank and open; considering all things, it was very kind of you to allude to the circumstance--very kind and polite.

I'm frank and open; it was very kind of you to allude it - very kind and polite.


Amelia dear, Mr. Osborne and I were talking about your poor brother Joseph.

Amelia dear, Mr. Osborne and I were talking about your brother Joseph.


Not that Rebecca was in the right; but she had managed most successfully to put him in the wrong.


And he now shamefully fled, feeling, if he stayed another minute, that he would have been made to look foolish in the presence of Amelia.


Though Rebecca had had the better of him, George was above the meanness of talebearing or revenge upon a lady--only he could not help cleverly confiding to Captain Crawley, next day, some notions of his regarding Miss Rebecca--that she was a sharp one, a dangerous one, a desperate flirt, &c.; in all of which opinions Crawley agreed laughingly, and with every one of which Miss Rebecca was made acquainted before twenty-four hours were over.

George could not help cleverly confiding to Captain Crawley, next day, that Miss Rebecca was a sharp, dangerous one, a desperate flirt; with which Crawley agreed laughingly, and passed on to Rebecca before twenty-four hours were over.


They added to her original regard for Mr. Osborne.

This added to her original regard for Mr. Osborne.


Her woman's instinct had told her that it was George who had interrupted the success of her first love-passage, and she esteemed him accordingly.

She guessed that it was George who had interrupted the success of her first love-passage, and she esteemed him accordingly.


"I only just warn you," he said to Rawdon Crawley, with a knowing look--he had bought the horse, and lost some score of guineas after dinner, "I just warn you--I know women, and counsel you to be on the look-out."


"Thank you, my boy," said Crawley, with a look of peculiar gratitude.


And George went off, thinking Crawley was quite right.


He told Amelia of what he had done, and how he had counselled Rawdon Crawley--a devilish good, straightforward fellow--to be on his guard against that little sly, scheming Rebecca.

George told Amelia of how he had counselled Rawdon Crawley - a devilish good, straightforward fellow - to be on his guard against that little sly, scheming Rebecca.


"Your friend the governess.--Don't look so astonished."

"Your friend the governess. Don't look so astonished."


For her woman's eyes, which Love had made sharp-sighted, had in one instant discovered a secret which was invisible to Miss Crawley, to poor virgin Briggs, and above all, to the stupid peepers of that young whiskered prig, Lieutenant Osborne.

For she had instantly discovered a secret which was invisible to Miss Crawley, to Briggs, and above all, to that young whiskered prig, Lieutenant Osborne.


For as Rebecca was shawling her in an upper apartment, where these two friends had an opportunity for a little of that secret talking and conspiring which form the delight of female life, Amelia, coming up to Rebecca, and taking her two little hands in hers, said, "Rebecca, I see it all."

When the two girls had an opportunity for a little private talk, Amelia, taking her friend's hands, said, "Rebecca, I see it all."


And regarding this delightful secret, not one syllable more was said by either of the young women.

And regarding this delightful secret, not one syllable more was said by either.


But it was destined to come out before long.


Some short period after the above events, and Miss Rebecca Sharp still remaining at her patroness's house in Park Lane, one more hatchment might have been seen in Great Gaunt Street, figuring amongst the many which usually ornament that dismal quarter.

A short time after these events, while Miss Rebecca Sharp was still staying at Park Lane,


It was over Sir Pitt Crawley's house; but it did not indicate the worthy baronet's demise.


It was a feminine hatchment, and indeed a few years back had served as a funeral compliment to Sir Pitt's old mother, the late dowager Lady Crawley.


Its period of service over, the hatchment had come down from the front of the house, and lived in retirement somewhere in the back premises of Sir Pitt's mansion.

funerary coat of arms appeared over Sir Pitt Crawley's house.


The arms quartered on the shield along with his own were not, to be sure, poor Rose's.


But the cherubs painted on the scutcheon answered as well for her as for Sir Pitt's mother, and Resurgam was written under the coat, flanked by the Crawley Dove and Serpent.


Arms and Hatchments, Resurgam.--Here is an opportunity for moralising!


Mr. Crawley had tended that otherwise friendless bedside.


She went out of the world strengthened by such words and comfort as he could give her.

His step-mother went out of the world strengthened by such words and comfort as he could give her.


For many years his was the only kindness she ever knew; the only friendship that solaced in any way that feeble, lonely soul.

For many years his was the only kindness Lady Crawley ever knew; the only friendship that solaced that feeble, lonely soul.


Her heart was dead long before her body.


She had sold it to become Sir Pitt Crawley's wife.


Mothers and daughters are making the same bargain every day in Vanity Fair.


When the demise took place, her husband was in London attending to some of his innumerable schemes, and busy with his endless lawyers.

When she died, her husband was in London attending to his schemes, busy with his endless lawyers.


He had found time, nevertheless, to call often in Park Lane, and to despatch many notes to Rebecca, entreating her, enjoining her, commanding her to return to her young pupils in the country, who were now utterly without companionship during their mother's illness.

He had found time, nevertheless, to call often in Park Lane, and to send many notes to Rebecca, entreating her to return to her young pupils in the country.


But Miss Crawley would not hear of her departure; for though there was no lady of fashion in London who would desert her friends more complacently as soon as she was tired of their society, and though few tired of them sooner, yet as long as her engoument lasted her attachment was prodigious, and she clung still with the greatest energy to Rebecca.

But Miss Crawley would not hear of her departure; for she was not yet tired of Rebecca, and she clung to her with the greatest energy.


The news of Lady Crawley's death provoked no more grief or comment than might have been expected in Miss Crawley's family circle.


"I suppose I must put off my party for the 3rd," Miss Crawley said; and added, after a pause, "I hope my brother will have the decency not to marry again."


"What a confounded rage Pitt will be in if he does," Rawdon remarked, with his usual regard for his elder brother.

"What a confounded rage Pitt will be in if he does," Rawdon remarked, with his usual regard for his brother.


She seemed by far the gravest and most impressed of the family.


She left the room before Rawdon went away that day; but they met by chance below, as he was going away after taking leave, and had a parley together.

She left the room; but had a talk with Rawdon before he went away.


On the morrow, as Rebecca was gazing from the window, she startled Miss Crawley, who was placidly occupied with a French novel, by crying out in an alarmed tone, "Here's Sir Pitt, Ma'am!"

The next day, as Rebecca was gazing from the window, she startled Miss Crawley by crying out in an alarmed tone, "Here's Sir Pitt, Ma'am!"


and the Baronet's knock followed this announcement.

The Baronet's knock followed this announcement.


Tell Bowls not at home, or go downstairs and say I'm too ill to receive any one.


My nerves really won't bear my brother at this moment," cried out Miss Crawley, and resumed the novel.

," cried out Miss Crawley, resuming her French novel.


"She's too ill to see you, sir," Rebecca said, tripping down to Sir Pitt, who was preparing to ascend.

"She's too ill to see you, sir," Rebecca said, tripping down to Sir Pitt.


"So much the better," Sir Pitt answered.


Come along a me into the parlour," and they entered that apartment together.

Come along a me into the parlour." They entered that room together.


"I wawnt you back at Queen's Crawley, Miss," the baronet said, fixing his eyes upon her, and taking off his black gloves and his hat with its great crape hat-band.

"I want you back at Queen's Crawley, Miss," the baronet said, fixing his gaze upon her, and taking off his black gloves and his hat with its black hat-band.


His eyes had such a strange look, and fixed upon her so steadfastly, that Rebecca Sharp began almost to tremble.

His eyes had such a strange, fixed look, that Rebecca Sharp began almost to tremble.


"I hope to come soon," she said in a low voice, "as soon as Miss Crawley is better--and return to--to the dear children."

"I hope to come soon," she said in a low voice, "and return to the dear children."


"You've said so these three months, Becky," replied Sir Pitt, "and still you go hanging on to my sister, who'll fling you off like an old shoe, when she's wore you out.


"I daren't--I don't think--it would be right--to be alone--with you, sir," Becky said, seemingly in great agitation.

"I daren't - I don't think it would be right - to be alone with you, sir," Becky said, seemingly in great agitation.


"I say agin, I want you," Sir Pitt said, thumping the table.


I didn't see what it was till you went away.


"Come as Lady Crawley, if you like," the Baronet said, grasping his crape hat.

"Come as Lady Crawley, if you like," the Baronet said.


You've got more brains in your little vinger than any baronet's wife in the county.


You shall do what you like; spend what you like; and 'ave it all your own way.


," and the old man fell down on his knees and leered at her like a satyr.


Rebecca started back a picture of consternation.

Rebecca started back, a picture of consternation.


In the course of this history we have never seen her lose her presence of mind; but she did now, and wept some of the most genuine tears that ever fell from her eyes.

During this history we have never seen her lose her presence of mind; but she did now, and wept some of the most genuine tears that ever fell from her eyes.


Without knowing how, Captain William Dobbin found himself the great promoter, arranger, and manager of the match between George Osborne and Amelia.

Without knowing how, Captain William Dobbin found himself the manager of the match between George Osborne and Amelia.


But for him it never would have taken place: he could not but confess as much to himself, and smiled rather bitterly as he thought that he of all men in the world should be the person upon whom the care of this marriage had fallen.

Without him it never would have taken place: he smiled rather bitterly as he thought that he, of all men in the world, should be the one to whom this task had fallen.


But though indeed the conducting of this negotiation was about as painful a task as could be set to him, yet when he had a duty to perform, Captain Dobbin was accustomed to go through it without many words or much hesitation: and, having made up his mind completely, that if Miss Sedley was balked of her husband she would die of the disappointment, he was determined to use all his best endeavours to keep her alive.

But though it was painful to him, Captain Dobbin was used to doing his duty without hesitation: and, having made up his mind that Miss Sedley was in danger of dying of disappointment, he was determined to keep her alive.


I forbear to enter into minute particulars of the interview between George and Amelia, when the former was brought back to the feet (or should we venture to say the arms?)

I will not enter into the details of the meeting between George and Amelia.


of his young mistress by the intervention of his friend honest William.


A much harder heart than George's would have melted at the sight of that sweet face so sadly ravaged by grief and despair, and at the simple tender accents in which she told her little broken-hearted story: but as she did not faint when her mother, trembling, brought Osborne to her; and as she only gave relief to her overcharged grief, by laying her head on her lover's shoulder and there weeping for a while the most tender, copious, and refreshing tears--old Mrs. Sedley, too greatly relieved, thought it was best to leave the young persons to themselves; and so quitted Emmy crying over George's hand, and kissing it humbly, as if he were her supreme chief and master, and as if she were quite a guilty and unworthy person needing every favour and grace from him.

A much harder heart than George's would have melted at the sight of that sweet face so ravaged by despair. When her mother brought Osborne to her, she laid her head on her lover's shoulder and there wept the most tender and refreshing tears. After crying over George's hand, she kissed it humbly, as if he were her supreme chief and master, and she quite unworthy.


This prostration and sweet unrepining obedience exquisitely touched and flattered George Osborne.

This sweet obedience touched and flattered George Osborne.


He saw a slave before him in that simple yielding faithful creature, and his soul within him thrilled secretly somehow at the knowledge of his power.

He saw a slave before him in that simple yielding faithful creature, and thrilled secretly at the knowledge of his power.


He would be generous-minded, Sultan as he was, and raise up this kneeling Esther and make a queen of her: besides, her sadness and beauty touched him as much as her submission, and so he cheered her, and raised her up and forgave her, so to speak.

He would be a generous-minded Sultan, and make a queen of her: so he raised her up and forgave her, so to speak.


All her hopes and feelings, which were dying and withering, this her sun having been removed from her, bloomed again and at once, its light being restored.


You would scarcely have recognised the beaming little face upon Amelia's pillow that night as the one that was laid there the night before, so wan, so lifeless, so careless of all round about.

You would scarcely have recognised her beaming little face upon her pillow that night compared to the one that was laid there the night before.


The honest Irish maid-servant, delighted with the change, asked leave to kiss the face that had grown all of a sudden so rosy.

The honest Irish maid-servant, delighted with the change, asked to kiss


Amelia put her arms round the girl's neck and kissed her with all her heart, like a child.

her, and Amelia put her arms round the girl's neck and kissed her like a child.


She had that night a sweet refreshing sleep, like one--and what a spring of inexpressible happiness as she woke in the morning sunshine!

She had a sweet refreshing sleep - and what a spring of happiness as she woke in the morning sunshine!


"He will be here again to-day," Amelia thought.

"He will be here again today," Amelia thought.


And the fact is, that George thought he was one of the generousest creatures alive: and that he was making a tremendous sacrifice in marrying this young creature.

And George thought he was one of the generousest creatures alive, and was making a tremendous sacrifice in marrying her.


While she and Osborne were having their delightful tete-a-tete above stairs, old Mrs. Sedley and Captain Dobbin were conversing below upon the state of the affairs, and the chances and future arrangements of the young people.

While she and Osborne were meeting, old Mrs. Sedley and Captain Dobbin were talking downstairs about the future of the young people.


Mrs. Sedley having brought the two lovers together and left them embracing each other with all their might, like a true woman, was of opinion that no power on earth would induce Mr. Sedley to consent to the match between his daughter and the son of a man who had so shamefully, wickedly, and monstrously treated him.

Mrs. Sedley thought that nothing would induce Mr. Sedley to consent to the match between his daughter and the son of a man who had so shamefully treated him.


And she told a long story about happier days and their earlier splendours, when Osborne lived in a very humble way in the New Road, and his wife was too glad to receive some of Jos's little baby things, with which Mrs. Sedley accommodated her at the birth of one of Osborne's own children.

And she told a long story about happier days, when Osborne lived in a very humble way, and his wife was glad to receive Jos's little baby things, which Mrs. Sedley passed on to her.


The fiendish ingratitude of that man, she was sure, had broken Mr. S.'s heart: and as for a marriage, he would never, never, never, never consent.

The fiendish ingratitude of that man, she was sure, had broken Mr. S.'s heart: and as for a marriage, he would never consent.


"They must run away together, Ma'am," Dobbin said, laughing, "and follow the example of Captain Rawdon Crawley, and Miss Emmy's friend the little governess."

"They must run away together, Ma'am," Dobbin said, laughing, "like Captain Rawdon Crawley, and Miss Emmy's friend the governess."


Mrs. Sedley was all excitement about this news.


She wished that Blenkinsop were here to hear it: Blenkinsop always mistrusted that Miss Sharp.-- What an escape Jos had had!


and she described the already well-known love-passages between Rebecca and the Collector of Boggley Wollah.


It was not, however, Mr. Sedley's wrath which Dobbin feared, so much as that of the other parent concerned, and he owned that he had a very considerable doubt and anxiety respecting the behaviour of the black-browed old tyrant of a Russia merchant in Russell Square.

It was not, however, Mr. Sedley's wrath which Dobbin feared so much as that of George's father. He had considerable anxiety about the behaviour of the black-browed old tyrant in Russell Square.


He has forbidden the match peremptorily, Dobbin thought.


He knew what a savage determined man Osborne was, and how he stuck by his word.

He knew what a savage, determined man Osborne was, and how he stuck by his word.


"The only chance George has of reconcilement," argued his friend, "is by distinguishing himself in the coming campaign.

"The only chance George has of reconcilement," thought Dobbin, "is by distinguishing himself in the coming campaign.


He has some money from his mother, I have heard enough to purchase his majority--or he must sell out and go and dig in Canada, or rough it in a cottage in the country."

to distinguish himself, he has some money from his mother - or he must sell out and go to Canada, or rough it in a cottage in the country."


With such a partner Dobbin thought he would not mind Siberia--and, strange to say, this absurd and utterly imprudent young fellow never for a moment considered that the want of means to keep a nice carriage and horses, and of an income which should enable its possessors to entertain their friends genteelly, ought to operate as bars to the union of George and Miss Sedley.

With such a partner Dobbin thought he would not mind Siberia.


It was these weighty considerations which made him think too that the marriage should take place as quickly as possible.

He thought too that the marriage should take place as quickly as possible.


Was he anxious himself, I wonder, to have it over?--as people, when death has occurred, like to press forward the funeral, or when a parting is resolved upon, hasten it.

Was he anxious, I wonder, to have it over? - as people, after a death, like to press forward the funeral.


It is certain that Mr. Dobbin, having taken the matter in hand, was most extraordinarily eager in the conduct of it.


He urged on George the necessity of immediate action: he showed the chances of reconciliation with his father, which a favourable mention of his name in the Gazette must bring about.

Dobbin urged George to marry before the regiment departed from England:


If need were he would go himself and brave both the fathers in the business.

if necessary he would go himself and see both the fathers.


At all events, he besought George to go through with it before the orders came, which everybody expected, for the departure of the regiment from England on foreign service.


Bent upon these hymeneal projects, and with the applause and consent of Mrs. Sedley, who did not care to break the matter personally to her husband, Mr. Dobbin went to seek John Sedley at his house of call in the City, the Tapioca Coffee-house, where, since his own offices were shut up, and fate had overtaken him, the poor broken-down old gentleman used to betake himself daily, and write letters and receive them, and tie them up into mysterious bundles, several of which he carried in the flaps of his coat.

With Mrs. Sedley's consent, Mr. Dobbin went to seek John Sedley in the City, at the Tapioca Coffee-house, where the poor broken-down old gentleman used to go daily, and write and receive letters tied up in mysterious bundles.


I don't know anything more dismal than that business and bustle and mystery of a ruined man: those letters from the wealthy which he shows you: those worn greasy documents promising support and offering condolence which he places wistfully before you, and on which he builds his hopes of restoration and future fortune.

I don't know anything more dismal than the bustle of a ruined man as he shows you letters from the wealthy: worn, greasy documents promising support, on which he builds his hopes.


My beloved reader has no doubt in the course of his experience been waylaid by many such a luckless companion.


He takes you into the corner; he has his bundle of papers out of his gaping coat pocket; and the tape off, and the string in his mouth, and the favourite letters selected and laid before you; and who does not know the sad eager half-crazy look which he fixes on you with his hopeless eyes?

Such a man takes you into the corner; he has his bundle of papers out, and the favourite letters laid before you; and who does not know the sad eager half-crazy look which he fixes on you with his hopeless eyes?


Changed into a man of this sort, Dobbin found the once florid, jovial, and prosperous John Sedley.

Dobbin found the once jovial and prosperous John Sedley changed into a man of this sort.


His coat, that used to be so glossy and trim, was white at the seams, and the buttons showed the copper.

His coat, that used to be so glossy, was white at the seams.


His face had fallen in, and was unshorn; his frill and neckcloth hung limp under his bagging waistcoat.

His face had fallen in, and was unshaved; his neckcloth hung limp under his sagging waistcoat.


When he used to treat the boys in old days at a coffee-house, he would shout and laugh louder than anybody there, and have all the waiters skipping round him; it was quite painful to see how humble and civil he was to John of the Tapioca, a blear-eyed old attendant in dingy stockings and cracked pumps, whose business it was to serve glasses of wafers, and bumpers of ink in pewter, and slices of paper to the frequenters of this dreary house of entertainment, where nothing else seemed to be consumed.

It was quite painful to see how humble and civil he was to the blear-eyed old waiter.


As for William Dobbin, whom he had tipped repeatedly in his youth, and who had been the old gentleman's butt on a thousand occasions, old Sedley gave his hand to him in a very hesitating humble manner now, and called him "Sir."

As for William Dobbin, who had been the butt of the old man's humour on a thousand occasions, Sedley gave his hand to him in a very hesitating manner, and called him "Sir."


A feeling of shame and remorse took possession of William Dobbin as the broken old man so received and addressed him, as if he himself had been somehow guilty of the misfortunes which had brought Sedley so low.

A feeling of shame overcame Dobbin as the broken old man so received him, as if he himself had been somehow guilty of bringing Sedley low.


"I am very glad to see you, Captain Dobbin, sir," says he, after a skulking look or two at his visitor (whose lanky figure and military appearance caused some excitement likewise to twinkle in the blear eyes of the waiter in the cracked dancing pumps, and awakened the old lady in black, who dozed among the mouldy old coffee-cups in the bar).

"I am very glad to see you, Captain Dobbin, sir," said he.


"How is the worthy alderman, and my lady, your excellent mother, sir?"

"How is the worthy alderman, and my lady your mother, sir?"


He looked round at the waiter as he said, "My lady," as much as to say, "Hark ye, John, I have friends still, and persons of rank and reputation, too."

He looked round at the waiter as he said, "My lady," as if to say, Hark ye, John, I have friends of rank still.


"Are you come to do anything in my way, sir?


My young friends Dale and Spiggot do all my business for me now, until my new offices are ready; for I'm only here temporarily, you know, Captain.

"My young friends Dale and Spiggot do my business for me now, until my new offices are ready; for I'm only here temporarily, you know, Captain.


Dobbin, with a great deal of hesitation and stuttering, protested that he was not in the least hungry or thirsty; that he had no business to transact; that he only came to ask if Mr. Sedley was well, and to shake hands with an old friend; and, he added, with a desperate perversion of truth, "My mother is very well--that is, she's been very unwell, and is only waiting for the first fine day to go out and call upon Mrs. Sedley.

Dobbin protested that he was not hungry or thirsty, and that he only came to ask if Mr. Sedley was well, and to shake hands with an old friend. He added, "My mother is only waiting for the first fine day to go and call upon Mrs. Sedley."


And here he paused, reflecting on his own consummate hypocrisy; for the day was as fine, and the sunshine as bright as it ever is in Coffin Court, where the Tapioca Coffee-house is situated: and Mr. Dobbin remembered that he had seen Mrs. Sedley himself only an hour before, having driven Osborne down to Fulham in his gig, and left him there tete-a-tete with Miss Amelia.


"My wife will be very happy to see her ladyship," Sedley replied, pulling out his papers.


"I've a very kind letter here from your father, sir, and beg my respectful compliments to him.

"I've a very kind letter here from your father, sir.


Lady D. will find us in rather a smaller house than we were accustomed to receive our friends in; but it's snug, and the change of air does good to my daughter, who was suffering in town rather--you remember little Emmy, sir?--yes, suffering a good deal."

Lady D. will find us in rather a smaller house than we were accustomed to; but it's snug, and the change of air does my daughter good - you remember little Emmy, sir? - she was suffering a good deal."


The old gentleman's eyes were wandering as he spoke, and he was thinking of something else, as he sate thrumming on his papers and fumbling at the worn red tape.

The old gentleman's eyes were wandering, as he fumbled at the worn red tape around his papers.


"You're a military man," he went on; "I ask you, Bill Dobbin, could any man ever have speculated upon the return of that Corsican scoundrel from Elba?

"You're a military man," he went on; "I ask you, could any man ever have predicted the return of that Corsican scoundrel from Elba?


When the allied sovereigns were here last year, and we gave 'em that dinner in the City, sir, and we saw the Temple of Concord, and the fireworks, and the Chinese bridge in St. James's Park, could any sensible man suppose that peace wasn't really concluded, after we'd actually sung Te Deum for it, sir?


I ask you, William, could I suppose that the Emperor of Austria was a damned traitor--a traitor, and nothing more?

The Emperor of Austria was a damned traitor.


I don't mince words--a double-faced infernal traitor and schemer, who meant to have his son-in-law back all along.


And I say that the escape of Boney from Elba was a damned imposition and plot, sir, in which half the powers of Europe were concerned, to bring the funds down, and to ruin this country.

Boney's escape from Elba was a damned plot, sir, in which half the powers of Europe were concerned, to bring the funds down, and to ruin this country.


Why, sir?--because I trusted the Emperor of Russia and the Prince Regent.

- because I trusted the Emperor of Russia and the Prince Regent.


Look what the funds were on the 1st of March--what the French fives were when I bought for the count.

Look what the funds were on the first of March


There was collusion, sir, or that villain never would have escaped.

There was collusion, or that villain never would have escaped.


Where was the English Commissioner who allowed him to get away?


He ought to be shot, sir--brought to a court-martial, and shot, by Jove."

He ought to be brought to a court-martial and shot, by Jove."


"We're going to hunt Boney out, sir," Dobbin said, rather alarmed at the fury of the old man, the veins of whose forehead began to swell, and who sate drumming his papers with his clenched fist.

"We're going to hunt Boney out, sir," Dobbin said, rather alarmed at the old man's fury and the swelling veins on his forehead.


"We are going to hunt him out, sir--the Duke's in Belgium already, and we expect marching orders every day."

"The Duke's in Belgium already, and we expect marching orders every day."


Shoot the coward down, sir," Sedley roared.


"I'd enlist myself, by--; but I'm a broken old man--ruined by that damned scoundrel--and by a parcel of swindling thieves in this country whom I made, sir, and who are rolling in their carriages now," he added, with a break in his voice.

"I'd enlist myself - but I'm a broken old man - ruined by that damned scoundrel and by thieves in this country whom I made, sir!"


Dobbin was not a little affected by the sight of this once kind old friend, crazed almost with misfortune and raving with senile anger.

Dobbin was affected by the sight of this once kind old friend, almost crazed with misfortune and raving with senile anger.


Pity the fallen gentleman: you to whom money and fair repute are the chiefest good; and so, surely, are they in Vanity Fair.


"Yes," he continued, "there are some vipers that you warm, and they sting you afterwards.


There are some beggars that you put on horseback, and they're the first to ride you down.

beggars that you put on horseback, William Dobbin, and they're the first to ride you down.


You know whom I mean, William Dobbin, my boy.


I mean a purse-proud villain in Russell Square, whom I knew without a shilling, and whom I pray and hope to see a beggar as he was when I befriended him."

I mean a purse-proud villain in Russell Square, whom I knew without a shilling, and whom I hope to see a beggar as he was when I befriended him."


"I have heard something of this, sir, from my friend George," Dobbin said, anxious to come to his point.


"The quarrel between you and his father has cut him up a great deal, sir.


Indeed, I'm the bearer of a message from him."


Very kind of him, the stiff-backed prig, with his dandified airs and West End swagger.

Very kind of him, the prig with his West-end swagger.


He's hankering about my house, is he still?

He's still hankering about my house, is he?


If my son had the courage of a man, he'd shoot him.


I won't have his name mentioned in my house.