He would not perhaps like to live with the old couple, whose ways and hours might not agree with those of a younger man, accustomed to different society (Jos bowed at this compliment); but, the Major pointed out, how advantageous it would be for Jos Sedley to have a house of his own in London, and not a mere bachelor's establishment as before; how his sister Amelia would be the very person to preside over it; how elegant, how gentle she was, and of what refined good manners.

Perhaps Jos would not like to live with the old couple; but the Major pointed out how advantageous it would be for Jos to have his own house in London, how his sister Amelia would be the very person to preside over it; how elegant, gentle and refined she was.


He recounted stories of the success which Mrs. George Osborne had had in former days at Brussels, and in London, where she was much admired by people of very great fashion; and he then hinted how becoming it would be for Jos to send Georgy to a good school and make a man of him, for his mother and her parents would be sure to spoil him.

He told Jos how much admired she had formerly been by people of great fashion; and he then hinted how becoming it would be for Jos to send Georgy to a good school.


In a word, this artful Major made the civilian promise to take charge of Amelia and her unprotected child.


He did not know as yet what events had happened in the little Sedley family, and how death had removed the mother, and riches had carried off George from Amelia.

The Major did not know yet what events had happened in the little Sedley family, and how riches had carried off George from Amelia.


But the fact is that every day and always, this love-smitten and middle-aged gentleman was thinking about Mrs. Osborne, and his whole heart was bent upon doing her good.

But the fact is that every day, this love-smitten gentleman was thinking about Mrs. Osborne, and bent upon doing her good.


He coaxed, wheedled, cajoled, and complimented Jos Sedley with a perseverance and cordiality of which he was not aware himself, very likely; but some men who have unmarried sisters or daughters even, may remember how uncommonly agreeable gentlemen are to the male relations when they are courting the females; and perhaps this rogue of a Dobbin was urged by a similar hypocrisy.

He coaxed and complimented Jos Sedley perseveringly to this end.


The truth is, when Major Dobbin came on board the Ramchumder, very sick, and for the three days she lay in the Madras Roads, he did not begin to rally, nor did even the appearance and recognition of his old acquaintance, Mr. Sedley, on board much cheer him, until after a conversation which they had one day, as the Major was laid languidly on the deck.

The truth is, when Major Dobbin came on board very sick, he did not begin to rally until a conversation which they had one day, as the Major was laid languidly on the deck.


He said then he thought he was doomed; he had left a little something to his godson in his will, and he trusted Mrs. Osborne would remember him kindly and be happy in the marriage she was about to make.

He said that he had left a little something to his godson in his will, and he trusted Mrs. Osborne would remember him kindly and be happy in the marriage she was about to make.


not the least," Jos answered; "he had heard from her: she made no mention of the marriage, and by the way, it was curious, she wrote to say that Major Dobbin was going to be married, and hoped that HE would be happy."

not at all," Jos answered. "Her latest letter made no mention of marriage, and by the way, she wrote to say that Major Dobbin was going to be married, and hoped that he would be happy."


What were the dates of Sedley's letters from Europe?


They were two months later than the Major's; and the ship's surgeon congratulated himself upon the treatment adopted by him towards his new patient, who had been consigned to shipboard by the Madras practitioner with very small hopes indeed; for, from that day, the very day that he changed the draught, Major Dobbin began to mend.


And thus it was that deserving officer, Captain Kirk, was disappointed of his majority.


After they passed St. Helena, Major Dobbin's gaiety and strength was such as to astonish all his fellow passengers.

After they passed St. Helena, his gaiety and strength astonished his fellow passengers.


He larked with the midshipmen, played single-stick with the mates, ran up the shrouds like a boy, sang a comic song one night to the amusement of the whole party assembled over their grog after supper, and rendered himself so gay, lively, and amiable that even Captain Bragg, who thought there was nothing in his passenger, and considered he was a poor-spirited feller at first, was constrained to own that the Major was a reserved but well-informed and meritorious officer.

He larked with the midshipmen, ran up the shrouds like a boy, sang a comic song one night to the amusement of the whole party, and was generally lively and amiable.


"He ain't got distangy manners, dammy," Bragg observed to his first mate; "he wouldn't do at Government House, Roper, where his Lordship and Lady William was as kind to me, and shook hands with me before the whole company, and asking me at dinner to take beer with him, before the Commander-in-Chief himself; he ain't got manners, but there's something about him--" And thus Captain Bragg showed that he possessed discrimination as a man, as well as ability as a commander.


But a calm taking place when the Ramchunder was within ten days' sail of England, Dobbin became so impatient and ill-humoured as to surprise those comrades who had before admired his vivacity and good temper.

But during a calm, only ten days' sail from England, Dobbin became so impatient and ill-humoured as to surprise his comrades.


He did not recover until the breeze sprang up again, and was in a highly excited state when the pilot came on board.


Good God, how his heart beat as the two friendly spires of Southampton came in sight.


Friend Rawdon drove on then to Mr. Moss's mansion in Cursitor Street, and was duly inducted into that dismal place of hospitality.

Rawdon drove on to Mr. Moss the bailiff's mansion in Cursitor Street, and was duly introduced into that dismal place.


Morning was breaking over the cheerful house-tops of Chancery Lane as the rattling cab woke up the echoes there.

Morning was breaking over the house-tops of Chancery Lane as the rattling cab woke up the echoes there.


A little pink-eyed Jew-boy, with a head as ruddy as the rising morn, let the party into the house, and Rawdon was welcomed to the ground-floor apartments by Mr. Moss, his travelling companion and host, who cheerfully asked him if he would like a glass of something warm after his drive.

Rawdon was welcomed in by Mr. Moss, his travelling companion and host, who cheerfully asked him if he would like a glass of something warm after his drive.


The Colonel was not so depressed as some mortals would be, who, quitting a palace and a placens uxor, find themselves barred into a spunging-house; for, if the truth must be told, he had been a lodger at Mr. Moss's establishment once or twice before.

The Colonel was not so depressed as some men would be to find themselves shut in a spunging-house, to be confined there until payment was arranged; for in truth, he had been a lodger at Mr. Moss's once or twice before.


We have not thought it necessary in the previous course of this narrative to mention these trivial little domestic incidents: but the reader may be assured that they can't unfrequently occur in the life of a man who lives on nothing a year.

We have not thought it necessary to mention these trivial little incidents: but they must frequently occur in the life of a man who lives on nothing a year.


Upon his first visit to Mr. Moss, the Colonel, then a bachelor, had been liberated by the generosity of his aunt; on the second mishap, little Becky, with the greatest spirit and kindness, had borrowed a sum of money from Lord Southdown and had coaxed her husband's creditor (who was her shawl, velvet-gown, lace pocket-handkerchief, trinket, and gim-crack purveyor, indeed) to take a portion of the sum claimed and Rawdon's promissory note for the remainder: so on both these occasions the capture and release had been conducted with the utmost gallantry on all sides, and Moss and the Colonel were therefore on the very best of terms.

Upon his first visit to Mr. Moss, the Colonel, then a bachelor, had been freed by the generosity of his aunt; on the second mishap, little Becky had borrowed money from Lord Southdown and had coaxed her husband's creditor (who was her shawl and gown-seller) to take Rawdon's promissory note for the rest. So on both these occasions the capture and release had been conducted with gallantry on all sides, and Moss and the Colonel were therefore on the very best of terms.


"You'll find your old bed, Colonel, and everything comfortable," that gentleman said, "as I may honestly say.

"You'll find your old bed, Colonel, and everything comfortable," Mr. Moss said.


You may be pretty sure its kep aired, and by the best of company, too.

"It's kep aired, and by the best of company, too.


It was slep in the night afore last by the Honorable Capting Famish, of the Fiftieth Dragoons, whose Mar took him out, after a fortnight, jest to punish him, she said.

It was slep in the night afore last by the Honourable Capting Famish, of the Fiftieth Dragoons.


But, Law bless you, I promise you, he punished my champagne, and had a party ere every night--reglar tip-top swells, down from the clubs and the West End--Capting Ragg, the Honorable Deuceace, who lives in the Temple, and some fellers as knows a good glass of wine, I warrant you.


I've got a Doctor of Diwinity upstairs, five gents in the coffee-room, and Mrs. Moss has a tably-dy-hoty at half-past five, and a little cards or music afterwards, when we shall be most happy to see you."


"I'll ring when I want anything," said Rawdon and went quietly to his bedroom.

"I'll ring when I want anything," said Rawdon, and went quietly to his bedroom.


He was an old soldier, we have said, and not to be disturbed by any little shocks of fate.

He was an old soldier, not to be shaken by little shocks of fate.


A weaker man would have sent off a letter to his wife on the instant of his capture.

A weaker man would have instantly sent a letter to his wife.


"But what is the use of disturbing her night's rest?"


"She won't know whether I am in my room or not.


It will be time enough to write to her when she has had her sleep out, and I have had mine.

"Time enough to write to her when she has had her sleep.


It's only a hundred-and-seventy, and the deuce is in it if we can't raise that."

It's only a hundred-and-seventy pounds, and the deuce is in it if we can't raise that."


And so, thinking about little Rawdon (whom he would not have know that he was in such a queer place), the Colonel turned into the bed lately occupied by Captain Famish and fell asleep.

And so, thinking about little Rawdon, the Colonel turned into the bed lately occupied by Captain Famish and fell asleep.


It was ten o'clock when he woke up, and the ruddy-headed youth brought him, with conscious pride, a fine silver dressing-case, wherewith he might perform the operation of shaving.

It was ten o'clock when he woke up. A youth brought him a fine silver dressing-case, so that he might shave.


Indeed Mr. Moss's house, though somewhat dirty, was splendid throughout.


There were dirty trays, and wine-coolers en permanence on the sideboard, huge dirty gilt cornices, with dingy yellow satin hangings to the barred windows which looked into Cursitor Street--vast and dirty gilt picture frames surrounding pieces sporting and sacred, all of which works were by the greatest masters--and fetched the greatest prices, too, in the bill transactions, in the course of which they were sold and bought over and over again.

There were dirty gilt cornices, with dingy yellow satin hangings to the barred windows; vast and dirty gilt picture frames surrounded works by the greatest masters - works which were sold and bought over and over again.


The Colonel's breakfast was served to him in the same dingy and gorgeous plated ware.

The Colonel's breakfast was served to him in dingy and gorgeous silver-plated ware.


Miss Moss, a dark-eyed maid in curl-papers, appeared with the teapot, and, smiling, asked the Colonel how he had slep?


And she brought him in the Morning Post, with the names of all the great people who had figured at Lord Steyne's entertainment the night before.


It contained a brilliant account of the festivities and of the beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's admirable personifications.

which contained a brilliant account of Lord Steyne's festivities and of the beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Rawdon Crawley.


After a lively chat with this lady (who sat on the edge of the breakfast table in an easy attitude displaying the drapery of her stocking and an ex-white satin shoe, which was down at heel), Colonel Crawley called for pens and ink, and paper, and being asked how many sheets, chose one which was brought to him between Miss Moss's own finger and thumb.

After a lively chat with this lady, Colonel Crawley called for pens and paper, and


Many a sheet had that dark-eyed damsel brought in; many a poor fellow had scrawled and blotted hurried lines of entreaty and paced up and down that awful room until his messenger brought back the reply.


Poor men always use messengers instead of the post.


Who has not had their letters, with the wafers wet, and the announcement that a person is waiting in the hall?


Now on the score of his application, Rawdon had not many misgivings.


Don't be FRIGHTENED if I don't bring you in your COFFY.


Last night as I was coming home smoaking, I met with an ACCADENT.


I was NABBED by Moss of Cursitor Street--from whose GILT AND SPLENDID PARLER I write this--the same that had me this time two years.

I was NABBED by Moss of Cursitor Street - the same that had me two years ago.


Miss Moss brought in my tea--she is grown very FAT, and, as usual, had her STOCKENS DOWN AT HEAL.

Miss Moss brought in my tea - she is grown very FAT, and had her STOCKENS DOWN AT HEAL.


It's Nathan's business--a hundred-and-fifty--with costs, hundred-and-seventy.

It's Nathan's business - a hundred-and-seventy.


Please send me my desk and some CLOTHS--I'm in pumps and a white tye (something like Miss M's stockings)--I've seventy in it.

Please send me some CLOATHES and my desk - I've seventy in it.


And as soon as you get this, Drive to Nathan's--offer him seventy-five down, and ASK HIM TO RENEW--say I'll take wine--we may as well have some dinner sherry; but not PICTURS, they're too dear.

And as soon as you get this, Drive to Nathan's - offer him seventy-five down, and ASK HIM TO RENEW.


Take my ticker and such of your things as you can SPARE, and send them to Balls--we must, of coarse, have the sum to-night.

, take my ticker and anythings as you can SPARE, and send them to the pawnbroker. We must, of coarse, have the sum to-night.


It won't do to let it stand over, as to-morrow's Sunday; the beds here are not very CLEAN, and there may be other things out against me--I'm glad it an't Rawdon's Saturday for coming home.

We can't let it stand over, as tomorrow's Sunday; the beds here are not very CLEAN, and there may be other things out against me. I'm glad it an't Rawdon's Saturday for coming home.


Yours in haste, R. C. P.S. Make haste and come.


This letter, sealed with a wafer, was dispatched by one of the messengers who are always hanging about Mr. Moss's establishment, and Rawdon, having seen him depart, went out in the court-yard and smoked his cigar with a tolerably easy mind--in spite of the bars overhead--for Mr. Moss's court-yard is railed in like a cage, lest the gentlemen who are boarding with him should take a fancy to escape from his hospitality.

This letter was sent by a messenger, and Rawdon, having seen him depart, went into the courtyard and smoked his cigar with a tolerably easy mind.


Three hours, he calculated, would be the utmost time required, before Becky should arrive and open his prison doors, and he passed these pretty cheerfully in smoking, in reading the paper, and in the coffee-room with an acquaintance, Captain Walker, who happened to be there, and with whom he cut for sixpences for some hours, with pretty equal luck on either side.

Three hours, he calculated, would be the most time required before Becky should arrive and open his prison doors; and he passed these pretty cheerfully in smoking, in reading the paper, and in the coffee-room with an acquaintance, Captain Walker.


But the day passed away and no messenger returned--no Becky.

But the day passed and no messenger returned - no Becky.


Mr. Moss's tably-dy-hoty was served at the appointed hour of half-past five, when such of the gentlemen lodging in the house as could afford to pay for the banquet came and partook of it in the splendid front parlour before described, and with which Mr. Crawley's temporary lodging communicated, when Miss M. (Miss Hem, as her papa called her) appeared without the curl-papers of the morning, and Mrs. Hem did the honours of a prime boiled leg of mutton and turnips, of which the Colonel ate with a very faint appetite.

Mr. Moss's tably-dy-hoty was served at half-past five, when such of the gentlemen lodgers as could afford the banquet enjoyed it in the splendid front parlour. Miss M. (Miss Hem, as her papa called her) appeared without her curl-papers, and Mrs. Hem served a prime boiled leg of mutton and turnips, which the Colonel ate with a very faint appetite.


Asked whether he would "stand" a bottle of champagne for the company, he consented, and the ladies drank to his 'ealth, and Mr. Moss, in the most polite manner, "looked towards him."


In the midst of this repast, however, the doorbell was heard--young Moss of the ruddy hair rose up with the keys and answered the summons, and coming back, told the Colonel that the messenger had returned with a bag, a desk and a letter, which he gave him.

In the midst of this meal, however, the doorbell was heard. The messenger had returned with a bag, a desk and a letter.


"No ceramony, Colonel, I beg," said Mrs. Moss with a wave of her hand, and he opened the letter rather tremulously.

"No ceremony, Colonel, I beg," said Mrs. Moss with a wave of her hand, and he opened the letter rather tremulously.


It was a beautiful letter, highly scented, on a pink paper, and with a light green seal.

It was a beautiful letter, highly scented, on pink paper.


MON PAUVRE CHER PETIT, (Mrs. Crawley wrote)

MON PAUVRE CHER PETIT (Mrs. Crawley wrote)


I could not sleep ONE WINK for thinking of what had become of my odious old monstre, and only got to rest in the morning after sending for Mr. Blench (for I was in a fever), who gave me a composing draught and left orders with Finette that I should be disturbed ON NO ACCOUNT.

I could not sleep ONE WINK for thinking of what had become of my odious old monstre, and only got to rest in the morning after sending for Mr. Blench (for I was in a fever), who gave me a draught and left orders with Finette that I should be disturbed ON NO ACCOUNT.


So that my poor old man's messenger, who had bien mauvaise mine Finette says, and sentoit le Genievre, remained in the hall for some hours waiting my bell.

So that your messenger remained in the hall for some hours waiting my bell.


You may fancy my state when I read your poor dear old ill-spelt letter.


Ill as I was, I instantly called for the carriage, and as soon as I was dressed (though I couldn't drink a drop of chocolate--I assure you I couldn't without my monstre to bring it to me), I drove ventre a terre to Nathan's.

Ill as I was, I instantly called for the carriage, and as soon as I was dressed (though I couldn't drink a drop of chocolate), I drove like the wind to Nathan's.


I saw him--I wept--I cried--I fell at his odious knees.

I saw him - I wept - I cried - I fell at his odious knees.


He would have all the money, he said, or keep my poor monstre in prison.


I drove home with the intention of paying that triste visite chez mon oncle (when every trinket I have should be at your disposal though they would not fetch a hundred pounds, for some, you know, are with ce cher oncle already), and found Milor there with the Bulgarian old sheep-faced monster, who had come to compliment me upon last night's performances.

I drove home with the intention of paying that visit to the pawnbroker (when every trinket I have should be at your disposal though they would not fetch a hundred pounds), and found Milor there, with the old Bulgarian sheep-face, who had come to compliment me on last night's performance.


Paddington came in, too, drawling and lisping and twiddling his hair; so did Champignac, and his chef--everybody with foison of compliments and pretty speeches--plaguing poor me, who longed to be rid of them, and was thinking every moment of the time of mon pauvre prisonnier.


When they were gone, I went down on my knees to Milor; told him we were going to pawn everything, and begged and prayed him to give me two hundred pounds.

I went down on my knees to Milor; told him we were going to pawn everything, and begged him to give me two hundred pounds.


He pish'd and psha'd in a fury--told me not to be such a fool as to pawn--and said he would see whether he could lend me the money.

He pish'd and psha'd in a fury - told me not to be such a fool as to pawn - and said he would lend me the money.


At last he went away, promising that he would send it me in the morning: when I will bring it to my poor old monster with a kiss from his affectionate

He promised he would send it me tomorrow morning: when I will bring it to my poor old monster with a kiss from his affectionate


Oh I have such a headache and such a heartache!


When Rawdon read over this letter, he turned so red and looked so savage that the company at the table d'hote easily perceived that bad news had reached him.

When Rawdon read over this letter, he looked so red and savage that the company saw that bad news had reached him.


All his suspicions, which he had been trying to banish, returned upon him.


She could not even go out and sell her trinkets to free him.

She would not even go out and sell her trinkets to free him.


She could laugh and talk about compliments paid to her, whilst he was in prison.

She could laugh, whilst he was in prison.


He could hardly bear to think of what he suspected.


Leaving the room hurriedly, he ran into his own--opened his desk, wrote two hurried lines, which he directed to Sir Pitt or Lady Crawley, and bade the messenger carry them at once to Gaunt Street, bidding him to take a cab, and promising him a guinea if he was back in an hour.

Was there.... he could hardly bear to think of what he suspected.
He hurried into his room, opened his desk, wrote two lines, which he directed to Sir Pitt or Lady Crawley, and bade the messenger deliver them at once.


In the note he besought his dear brother and sister, for the sake of God, for the sake of his dear child and his honour, to come to him and relieve him from his difficulty.

In the note he begged his dear brother and sister, for the sake of his child and his honour, to relieve him from his difficulty.


He was in prison, he wanted a hundred pounds to set him free--he entreated them to come to him.

He was in prison, he needed a hundred pounds to set him free - he entreated them to come.


He went back to the dining-room after dispatching his messenger and called for more wine.

Then he went back to the dining-room and called for more wine.


He laughed and talked with a strange boisterousness, as the people thought.


Sometimes he laughed madly at his own fears and went on drinking for an hour, listening all the while for the carriage which was to bring his fate back.

and went on drinking for an hour, listening all the while for a carriage.


At the expiration of that time, wheels were heard whirling up to the gate--the young janitor went out with his gate-keys.

At the end of that time, wheels were heard whirling up to the gate. The janitor


It was a lady whom he let in at the bailiff's door.


"Colonel Crawley," she said, trembling very much.


He, with a knowing look, locked the outer door upon her--then unlocked and opened the inner one, and calling out, "Colonel, you're wanted," led her into the back parlour, which he occupied.

into the back parlour, and called, "Colonel, you're wanted."


Rawdon came in from the dining-parlour where all those people were carousing, into his back room; a flare of coarse light following him into the apartment where the lady stood, still very nervous.

Rawdon came from the dining-room, a flare of coarse light following him into the apartment where the lady stood, very nervous.


"It is I, Rawdon," she said in a timid voice, which she strove to render cheerful.


Rawdon was quite overcome by that kind voice and presence.

Rawdon was quite overcome by that kind voice.


He ran up to her--caught her in his arms--gasped out some inarticulate words of thanks and fairly sobbed on her shoulder.

He ran up - caught her in his arms - gasped out some inarticulate words of thanks and fairly sobbed on her shoulder.


She did not know the cause of his emotion.


The bills of Mr. Moss were quickly settled, perhaps to the disappointment of that gentleman, who had counted on having the Colonel as his guest over Sunday at least; and Jane, with beaming smiles and happiness in her eyes, carried away Rawdon from the bailiff's house, and they went homewards in the cab in which she had hastened to his release.

The bills were quickly settled; Jane happily carried Rawdon away from the bailiff's house, and they went homewards in a cab.


"Pitt was gone to a parliamentary dinner," she said, "when Rawdon's note came, and so, dear Rawdon, I--I came myself"; and she put her kind hand in his.

"Pitt was gone to a parliamentary dinner," she said, "when the note came, and so, dear Rawdon, I came myself;" and she put her kind hand in his.


Perhaps it was well for Rawdon Crawley that Pitt was away at that dinner.


Rawdon thanked his sister a hundred times, and with an ardour of gratitude which touched and almost alarmed that soft-hearted woman.

Rawdon thanked his sister a hundred times, with an ardour of gratitude which touched and almost alarmed her.


"Oh," said he, in his rude, artless way, "you--you don't know how I'm changed since I've known you, and--and little Rawdy.

"Oh," said he, "you don't know how I'm changed since I've known you, and - and little Rawdy.


You see I want--I want--to be--" He did not finish the sentence, but she could interpret it.

You see I want - I want - to be-" He did not finish the sentence, but she could interpret it.


And that night after he left her, and as she sat by her own little boy's bed, she prayed humbly for that poor way-worn sinner.

And that night after he left her, as she sat by her little boy's bed, she prayed humbly for Rawdon.


Rawdon left her and walked home rapidly.

On leaving her, Rawdon walked home rapidly.


He ran across the streets and the great squares of Vanity Fair, and at length came up breathless opposite his own house.

He ran across the streets and the great squares of Vanity Fair, and came up breathless opposite his own house.


He started back and fell against the railings, trembling as he looked up.


The drawing-room windows were blazing with light.


She had said that she was in bed and ill.


He stood there for some time, the light from the rooms on his pale face.


He took out his door-key and let himself into the house.

Then he took out his key and let himself into the house.


He could hear laughter in the upper rooms.


He was in the ball-dress in which he had been captured the night before.


He went silently up the stairs, leaning against the banisters at the stair-head.

He went silently up the stairs, leaning against the banisters.


Nobody was stirring in the house besides--all the servants had been sent away.

Nobody was stirring in the house besides - all the servants had been sent away.


Rawdon heard laughter within--laughter and singing.


Becky was singing a snatch of the song of the night before; a hoarse voice shouted "Brava!


A little table with a dinner was laid out--and wine and plate.

A little table with a dinner was laid out.


Steyne was hanging over the sofa on which Becky sat.


The wretched woman was in a brilliant full toilette, her arms and all her fingers sparkling with bracelets and rings, and the brilliants on her breast which Steyne had given her.

She was brilliantly dressed, her arms and fingers sparkling with bracelets and rings, and the diamonds on her breast which Steyne had given her.


He had her hand in his, and was bowing over it to kiss it, when Becky started up with a faint scream as she caught sight of Rawdon's white face.

He had her hand in his, and was bowing to kiss it, when Becky started up with a faint scream as she caught sight of Rawdon's white face.


At the next instant she tried a smile, a horrid smile, as if to welcome her husband; and Steyne rose up, grinding his teeth, pale, and with fury in his looks.

At the next instant she tried a smile, as if to welcome her husband; and Steyne rose up, grinding his teeth, pale, and with fury in his looks.


He, too, attempted a laugh--and came forward holding out his hand.

He, too, attempted a laugh - and came forward holding out his hand.


he said, the nerves of his mouth twitching as he tried to grin at the intruder.

he said, the nerves of his mouth twitching as he tried to grin.


There was that in Rawdon's face which caused Becky to fling herself before him.


"I am innocent, Rawdon," she said; "before God, I am innocent."


She clung hold of his coat, of his hands; her own were all covered with serpents, and rings, and baubles.

She clutched at his coat, his hands; her own were covered with serpents, rings, and baubles.


"Say I am innocent," she said to Lord Steyne.


He thought a trap had been laid for him, and was as furious with the wife as with the husband.

But he thought a trap had been laid for him, and was as furious with the wife as with the husband.


Why every trinket you have on your body is paid for by me.

Why, every trinket you have on your body is paid for by me.


I have given you thousands of pounds, which this fellow has spent and for which he has sold you.

I have given you thousands of pounds, which this bullying fellow has sold you for.


You're as innocent as your mother, the ballet-girl, and your husband the bully.


Don't think to frighten me as you have done others.


Make way, sir, and let me pass"; and Lord Steyne seized up his hat, and, with flame in his eyes, and looking his enemy fiercely in the face, marched upon him, never for a moment doubting that the other would give way.

Make way, sir, and let me pass."
Lord Steyne seized up his hat, and with flame in his eyes, and looking his enemy fiercely in the face, marched upon him, never for a moment doubting that the other would give way.


But Rawdon Crawley springing out, seized him by the neckcloth, until Steyne, almost strangled, writhed and bent under his arm.

But Rawdon sprang out and seized him by the neckcloth, until Steyne, almost strangled, writhed and bent under his arm.


And he struck the Peer twice over the face with his open hand and flung him bleeding to the ground.

And he struck the Marquis twice over the face with his open hand and flung him bleeding to the ground.


It was all done before Rebecca could interpose.


She admired her husband, strong, brave, and victorious.


She began, trembling, pulling the jewels from her arms, and the rings from her shaking fingers, and held them all in a heap, quivering and looking up at him.

Trembling, she pulled the jewels from her arms, and the rings from her shaking fingers, and held them in a heap.


"Throw them down," he said, and she dropped them.


He tore the diamond ornament out of her breast and flung it at Lord Steyne.

He tore the diamond ornament from her breast and flung it at Lord Steyne.


"Come upstairs," Rawdon said to his wife.


"I want to see if that man lies about the money as he has about me.


"Give me your keys," Rawdon answered, and they went out together.


Rebecca gave him all the keys but one, and she was in hopes that he would not have remarked the absence of that.

Rebecca gave him all the keys but one, hoping he would not notice its absence.


It belonged to the little desk which Amelia had given her in early days, and which she kept in a secret place.

It belonged to the little desk which Amelia had given her, and which she kept in a secret place.


But Rawdon flung open boxes and wardrobes, throwing the multifarious trumpery of their contents here and there, and at last he found the desk.

But Rawdon flung open boxes and wardrobes, throwing the contents here and there, and at last he found the desk.


It contained papers, love-letters many years old--all sorts of small trinkets and woman's memoranda.

It contained papers, love-letters many years old - small trinkets and woman's memoranda.


And it contained a pocket-book with bank-notes.


Some of these were dated ten years back, too, and one was quite a fresh one--a note for a thousand pounds which Lord Steyne had given her.

Some of these were dated ten years back, and one was quite fresh - a note for a thousand pounds from Lord Steyne.


"I'll send it to him to-day," Rawdon said (for day had dawned again, and many hours had passed in this search), "and I will pay Briggs, who was kind to the boy, and some of the debts.

"I'll send it back to him today," Rawdon said (for day had dawned again), "and I will pay Briggs, and some of the debts.


You will let me know where I shall send the rest to you.


You might have spared me a hundred pounds, Becky, out of all this--I have always shared with you."

You might have spared me a hundred pounds, Becky, out of all this - I have always shared with you."


What were her thoughts when he left her?


She remained for hours after he was gone, the sunshine pouring into the room, and Rebecca sitting alone on the bed's edge.

She remained for hours after he was gone, sitting alone on the bed's edge, the sunshine pouring into the room.


The drawers were all opened and their contents scattered about--dresses and feathers, scarfs and trinkets, a heap of tumbled vanities lying in a wreck.

The drawers were open and their contents scattered about - dresses and feathers, scarfs and trinkets lying in a wreck.


Her hair was falling over her shoulders; her gown was torn where Rawdon had wrenched the brilliants out of it.

Her hair was falling over her shoulders; her gown was torn.


She heard him go downstairs a few minutes after he left her, and the door slamming and closing on him.

She heard him go downstairs, and the door slamming.


Would he kill himself?--she thought--not until after he had met Lord Steyne.

Would he kill himself? she thought. No, not until after he had met and fought Lord Steyne.


She thought of her long past life, and all the dismal incidents of it.


Ah, how dreary it seemed, how miserable, lonely and profitless!


Should she take laudanum, and end it, to have done with all hopes, schemes, debts, and triumphs?

Should she take laudanum, and end it, have done with all hopes, schemes, debts, and triumphs?


The French maid found her in this position--sitting in the midst of her miserable ruins with clasped hands and dry eyes.

The French maid found her sitting in the midst of her miserable ruins with clasped hands and dry eyes.


The woman was her accomplice and in Steyne's pay.


She said not, but who could tell what was truth which came from those lips, or if that corrupt heart was in this case pure?

She said not, but who could tell if truth came from those lips, or if that corrupt heart was in this case pure?


All her lies and her schemes, and her selfishness and her wiles, all her wit and genius had come to this bankruptcy.

All her lies and selfishness and wiles, all her wit and genius had come to this bankruptcy.


The woman closed the curtains and, with some entreaty and show of kindness, persuaded her mistress to lie down on the bed.

The woman closed the curtains and persuaded her mistress to lie down on the bed.


Then she went below and gathered up the trinkets which had been lying on the floor since Rebecca dropped them there at her husband's orders, and Lord Steyne went away.

Then she went below and gathered up the trinkets that were still lying on the floor.


The astonished reader must be called upon to transport himself ten thousand miles to the military station of Bundlegunge, in the Madras division of our Indian empire, where our gallant old friends of the --th regiment are quartered under the command of the brave Colonel, Sir Michael O'Dowd.

The astonished reader must now transport himself ten thousand miles to the military station of Bundlegunge, in the Madras division of our Indian empire, where our gallant friends of the -th regiment are quartered under the command of the brave Colonel, Sir Michael O'Dowd.


Time has dealt kindly with that stout officer, as it does ordinarily with men who have good stomachs and good tempers and are not perplexed over much by fatigue of the brain.

Time has dealt kindly with that stout officer.


The Colonel plays a good knife and fork at tiffin and resumes those weapons with great success at dinner.


He smokes his hookah after both meals and puffs as quietly while his wife scolds him as he did under the fire of the French at Waterloo.

He has a good stomach and a good temper: he smokes his hookah after dinner and puffs quietly while his wife scolds him.


Age and heat have not diminished the activity or the eloquence of the descendant of the Malonys and the Molloys.

Age and heat have not diminished her activity or eloquence.


Her Ladyship, our old acquaintance, is as much at home at Madras as at Brussels in the cantonment as under the tents.

Lady O'Dowd is as much at home at Madras as at Brussels.


On the march you saw her at the head of the regiment seated on a royal elephant, a noble sight.


Mounted on that beast, she has been into action with tigers in the jungle, she has been received by native princes, who have welcomed her and Glorvina into the recesses of their zenanas and offered her shawls and jewels which it went to her heart to refuse.

Mounted on an elephant, she has been received by native princes, who have welcomed her and Glorvina.


The sentries of all arms salute her wherever she makes her appearance, and she touches her hat gravely to their salutation.

The sentries salute her wherever she appears.


Lady O'Dowd is one of the greatest ladies in the Presidency of Madras--her quarrel with Lady Smith, wife of Sir Minos Smith the puisne judge, is still remembered by some at Madras, when the Colonel's lady snapped her fingers in the Judge's lady's face and said SHE'D never walk behind ever a beggarly civilian.

She is one of the greatest ladies in Madras.


Even now, though it is five-and-twenty years ago, people remember Lady O'Dowd performing a jig at Government House, where she danced down two Aides-de-Camp, a Major of Madras cavalry, and two gentlemen of the Civil Service; and, persuaded by Major Dobbin, C.B., second in command of the --th, to retire to the supper-room, lassata nondum satiata recessit.


Peggy O'Dowd is indeed the same as ever, kind in act and thought; impetuous in temper; eager to command; a tyrant over her Michael; a dragon amongst all the ladies of the regiment; a mother to all the young men, whom she tends in their sickness, defends in all their scrapes, and with whom Lady Peggy is immensely popular.

Peggy O'Dowd is indeed the same as ever, kind, impetuous, eager to command; a tyrant over her Michael; a dragon amongst all the ladies of the regiment; and a mother to all the young men, with whom she is immensely popular.


But the Subalterns' and Captains' ladies (the Major is unmarried) cabal against her a good deal.


They say that Glorvina gives herself airs and that Peggy herself is intolerably domineering.

say that Glorvina gives herself airs and that Peggy herself is domineering.


She interfered with a little congregation which Mrs. Kirk had got up and laughed the young men away from her sermons, stating that a soldier's wife had no business to be a parson--that Mrs. Kirk would be much better mending her husband's clothes; and, if the regiment wanted sermons, that she had the finest in the world, those of her uncle, the Dean.


She abruptly put a termination to a flirtation which Lieutenant Stubble of the regiment had commenced with the Surgeon's wife, threatening to come down upon Stubble for the money which he had borrowed from her (for the young fellow was still of an extravagant turn) unless he broke off at once and went to the Cape on sick leave.

She put an end to a flirtation between Lieutenant Stubble and the Surgeon's wife, so that Stubble broke it off at once and went to the Cape on sick leave.


On the other hand, she housed and sheltered Mrs. Posky, who fled from her bungalow one night, pursued by her infuriate husband, wielding his second brandy bottle, and actually carried Posky through the delirium tremens and broke him of the habit of drinking, which had grown upon that officer, as all evil habits will grow upon men.

On the other hand, she sheltered Mrs. Posky, who fled from her bungalow one night, pursued by her infuriated husband wielding his second brandy bottle; and she actually helped Posky through the delirium tremens and broke him of the habit of drinking.


In a word, in adversity she was the best of comforters, in good fortune the most troublesome of friends, having a perfectly good opinion of herself always and an indomitable resolution to have her own way.

In adversity she was the best of comforters; in good fortune the most troublesome of friends, being resolved to have her own way.


Among other points, she had made up her mind that Glorvina should marry our old friend Dobbin.

She had made up her mind that Glorvina should marry Dobbin.


Mrs. O'Dowd knew the Major's expectations and appreciated his good qualities and the high character which he enjoyed in his profession.


Glorvina, a very handsome, fresh-coloured, black-haired, blue-eyed young lady, who could ride a horse, or play a sonata with any girl out of the County Cork, seemed to be the very person destined to insure Dobbin's happiness--much more than that poor good little weak-spur'ted Amelia, about whom he used to take on so.--"Look at Glorvina enter a room," Mrs. O'Dowd would say, "and compare her with that poor Mrs. Osborne, who couldn't say boo to a goose.

Glorvina, a very handsome, black-haired, blue-eyed young lady, who could ride a horse or play a sonata, seemed the very person to ensure Dobbin's happiness - much more than that good little weak-spirited Amelia, about whom he used to take on so.
"Compare Glorvina to poor Mrs. Osborne," Mrs. O'Dowd would say, "who couldn't say boo to a goose.


She'd be worthy of you, Major--you're a quiet man yourself, and want some one to talk for ye.

She'd be worthy of you, Major - you want someone to talk for ye."


And though she does not come of such good blood as the Malonys or Molloys, let me tell ye, she's of an ancient family that any nobleman might be proud to marry into."


But before she had come to such a resolution and determined to subjugate Major Dobbin by her endearments, it must be owned that Glorvina had practised them a good deal elsewhere.


She had had a season in Dublin, and who knows how many in Cork, Killarney, and Mallow?


She had flirted with all the marriageable officers whom the depots of her country afforded, and all the bachelor squires who seemed eligible.

She had flirted with all the eligible officers and bachelors there.


She had been engaged to be married a half-score times in Ireland, besides the clergyman at Bath who used her so ill. She had flirted all the way to Madras with the Captain and chief mate of the Ramchunder East Indiaman, and had a season at the Presidency with her brother and Mrs. O'Dowd, who was staying there, while the Major of the regiment was in command at the station.

She had been engaged to be married a half-score times in Ireland. She had flirted all the way to Madras with the Captain and chief mate of the ship.


Everybody admired her there; everybody danced with her; but no one proposed who was worth the marrying--one or two exceedingly young subalterns sighed after her, and a beardless civilian or two, but she rejected these as beneath her pretensions--and other and younger virgins than Glorvina were married before her.


There are women, and handsome women too, who have this fortune in life.


They fall in love with the utmost generosity; they ride and walk with half the Army-list, though they draw near to forty, and yet the Misses O'Grady are the Misses O'Grady still: Glorvina persisted that but for Lady O'Dowd's unlucky quarrel with the Judge's lady, she would have made a good match at Madras, where old Mr. Chutney, who was at the head of the civil service (and who afterwards married Miss Dolby, a young lady only thirteen years of age who had just arrived from school in Europe), was just at the point of proposing to her.

fall in love with the utmost generosity; they ride and walk with half the Army-list, though they draw near forty, and yet find no husband.


Well, although Lady O'Dowd and Glorvina quarrelled a great number of times every day, and upon almost every conceivable subject--indeed, if Mick O'Dowd had not possessed the temper of an angel two such women constantly about his ears would have driven him out of his senses--yet they agreed between themselves on this point, that Glorvina should marry Major Dobbin, and were determined that the Major should have no rest until the arrangement was brought about.

Well, although Lady O'Dowd and Glorvina quarrelled every day, upon every conceivable subject - yet they agreed that Glorvina should marry Major Dobbin, and were determined to bring this about.


Undismayed by forty or fifty previous defeats, Glorvina laid siege to him.


She sang Irish melodies at him unceasingly.


She asked him so frequently and pathetically, Will ye come to the bower?


that it is a wonder how any man of feeling could have resisted the invitation.


She was never tired of inquiring, if Sorrow had his young days faded, and was ready to listen and weep like Desdemona at the stories of his dangers and his campaigns.

She was ready to listen and weep at the stories of his dangerous campaigns.


It has been said that our honest and dear old friend used to perform on the flute in private; Glorvina insisted upon having duets with him, and Lady O'Dowd would rise and artlessly quit the room when the young couple were so engaged.

Our honest Dobbin used to play the flute in private; Glorvina insisted upon having duets with him, and Lady O'Dowd would rise and artlessly quit the room when the young couple were so occupied.


Glorvina forced the Major to ride with her of mornings.


The whole cantonment saw them set out and return.


She was constantly writing notes over to him at his house, borrowing his books, and scoring with her great pencil-marks such passages of sentiment or humour as awakened her sympathy.

Glorvina was constantly writing notes to him, borrowing his books, and scoring with great pencil-marks such passages as awakened her sympathy.


She borrowed his horses, his servants, his spoons, and palanquin--no wonder that public rumour assigned her to him, and that the Major's sisters in England should fancy they were about to have a sister-in-law.

No wonder that public rumour assigned her to him, and that the Major's sisters in England fancied they were about to have a sister-in-law.


Dobbin, who was thus vigorously besieged, was in the meanwhile in a state of the most odious tranquillity.


He used to laugh when the young fellows of the regiment joked him about Glorvina's manifest attentions to him.

He used to laugh when the young fellows of the regiment joked to him about Glorvina's attentions.


said he, "she is only keeping her hand in--she practises upon me as she does upon Mrs. Tozer's piano, because it's the most handy instrument in the station.

said he, "she is only keeping her hand in - she practises upon me as she does upon Mrs. Tozer's piano, because it's handy.


I am much too battered and old for such a fine young lady as Glorvina."


And so he went on riding with her, and copying music and verses into her albums, and playing at chess with her very submissively; for it is with these simple amusements that some officers in India are accustomed to while away their leisure moments, while others of a less domestic turn hunt hogs, and shoot snipes, or gamble and smoke cheroots, and betake themselves to brandy-and-water.

And so he went on riding with her, and copying music into her albums, and playing chess with her.


As for Sir Michael O'Dowd, though his lady and her sister both urged him to call upon the Major to explain himself and not keep on torturing a poor innocent girl in that shameful way, the old soldier refused point-blank to have anything to do with the conspiracy.

As for Sir Michael O'Dowd, the old soldier refused point-blank to have anything to do with it.


"Faith, the Major's big enough to choose for himself," Sir Michael said; "he'll ask ye when he wants ye"; or else he would turn the matter off jocularly, declaring that "Dobbin was too young to keep house, and had written home to ask lave of his mamma."

"Faith, the Major's big enough to choose for himself," he said.


Nay, he went farther, and in private communications with his Major would caution and rally him, crying, "Mind your oi, Dob, my boy, them girls is bent on mischief--me Lady has just got a box of gowns from Europe, and there's a pink satin for Glorvina, which will finish ye, Dob, if it's in the power of woman or satin to move ye."

Privately he would caution the Major, "Dob, my boy, them girls is bent on mischief - me Lady has just got a box of gowns from Europe, and there's a pink satin for Glorvina, which will finish ye, Dob, if it's in the power of woman or satin to move ye."


But the truth is, neither beauty nor fashion could conquer him.

But the truth is, neither beauty nor fashion could conquer Dobbin.


Our honest friend had but one idea of a woman in his head, and that one did not in the least resemble Miss Glorvina O'Dowd in pink satin.

He had only one idea of a woman in his head, and it did not in the least resemble Miss Glorvina in pink satin.


A gentle little woman in black, with large eyes and brown hair, seldom speaking, save when spoken to, and then in a voice not the least resembling Miss Glorvina's--a soft young mother tending an infant and beckoning the Major up with a smile to look at him--a rosy-cheeked lass coming singing into the room in Russell Square or hanging on George Osborne's arm, happy and loving--there was but this image that filled our honest Major's mind, by day and by night, and reigned over it always.

A gentle little woman in black, quietly-spoken - a soft young mother tending an infant and smiling up at the Major - a rosy-cheeked lass hanging lovingly on George Osborne's arm - this image filled our honest Major's mind, and reigned over it always.


Very likely Amelia was not like the portrait the Major had formed of her: there was a figure in a book of fashions which his sisters had in England, and with which William had made away privately, pasting it into the lid of his desk, and fancying he saw some resemblance to Mrs. Osborne in the print, whereas I have seen it, and can vouch that it is but the picture of a high-waisted gown with an impossible doll's face simpering over it--and, perhaps, Mr. Dobbin's sentimental Amelia was no more like the real one than this absurd little print which he cherished.

Very likely, Dobbin's sentimental Amelia was quite unlike the real one.


But what man in love, of us, is better informed?--or is he much happier when he sees and owns his delusion?

But what man in love is better informed?


He did not bother his friends and the public much about his feelings, or indeed lose his natural rest or appetite on account of them.

Dobbin did not bother his friends about his feelings, or indeed lose any rest or appetite on account of them.


His head has grizzled since we saw him last, and a line or two of silver may be seen in the soft brown hair likewise.

His head was grizzled now, with a line or two of silver.


But his feelings are not in the least changed or oldened, and his love remains as fresh as a man's recollections of boyhood are.

But his feelings were not in the least changed, and his love remained fresh.


We have said how the two Misses Dobbin and Amelia, the Major's correspondents in Europe, wrote him letters from England, Mrs. Osborne congratulating him with great candour and cordiality upon his approaching nuptials with Miss O'Dowd.

We have said how the two Misses Dobbin and Amelia wrote him letters from England. Mrs. Osborne congratulated him upon his approaching marriage, which she had learned of from the Major's


"Your sister has just kindly visited me," Amelia wrote in her letter, "and informed me of an INTERESTING EVENT, upon which I beg to offer my MOST SINCERE CONGRATULATIONS.


I hope the young lady to whom I hear you are to be UNITED will in every respect prove worthy of one who is himself all kindness and goodness.


The poor widow has only her prayers to offer and her cordial cordial wishes for YOUR PROSPERITY!


Georgy sends his love to HIS DEAR GODPAPA and hopes that you will not forget him.

"Georgy sends his love to HIS DEAR GODPAPA," she wrote, "and hopes that you will not forget him.


I tell him that you are about to form OTHER TIES, with one who I am sure merits ALL YOUR AFFECTION, but that, although such ties must of course be the strongest and most sacred, and supersede ALL OTHERS, yet that I am sure the widow and the child whom you have ever protected and loved will always HAVE A CORNER IN YOUR HEART."

I tell him that you are about to form OTHER TIES, with one who I am sure merits ALL YOUR AFFECTION, but that, although such ties must of course be the strongest and most sacred, yet that I am sure the widow and the child whom you have ever protected and loved will always HAVE A CORNER IN YOUR HEART."


The letter, which has been before alluded to, went on in this strain, protesting throughout as to the extreme satisfaction of the writer.


This letter, which arrived by the very same ship which brought out Lady O'Dowd's box of millinery from London (and which you may be sure Dobbin opened before any one of the other packets which the mail brought him), put the receiver into such a state of mind that Glorvina, and her pink satin, and everything belonging to her became perfectly odious to him.

This letter put Dobbin into such a state of mind that Glorvina and her pink satin became perfectly odious to him.


The Major cursed the talk of women, and the sex in general.

He cursed the talk of women, and the sex in general.


Everything annoyed him that day--the parade was insufferably hot and wearisome.

Everything annoyed him that day - the parade was insufferably hot and wearisome


was a man of intellect to waste his life, day after day, inspecting cross-belts and putting fools through their manoeuvres?


The senseless chatter of the young men at mess was more than ever jarring.

the senseless chatter of the young men was more than ever jarring.


What cared he, a man on the high road to forty, to know how many snipes Lieutenant Smith had shot, or what were the performances of Ensign Brown's mare?


The jokes about the table filled him with shame.


He was too old to listen to the banter of the assistant surgeon and the slang of the youngsters, at which old O'Dowd, with his bald head and red face, laughed quite easily.


The old man had listened to those jokes any time these thirty years--Dobbin himself had been fifteen years hearing them.


And after the boisterous dulness of the mess-table, the quarrels and scandal of the ladies of the regiment!

And after the boisterous dullness of the mess-table, the quarrels and scandal of the ladies of the regiment!


"O Amelia, Amelia," he thought, "you to whom I have been so faithful--you reproach me!


It is because you cannot feel for me that I drag on this wearisome life.

it is because you cannot feel for me that I drag on this wearisome life.


And you reward me after years of devotion by giving me your blessing upon my marriage, forsooth, with this flaunting Irish girl!"

And you reward me after years of devotion by giving your blessing to my marriage with this flaunting Irish girl!"


Sick and sorry felt poor William; more than ever wretched and lonely.


He would like to have done with life and its vanity altogether--so bootless and unsatisfactory the struggle, so cheerless and dreary the prospect seemed to him.

He would have liked to have done with life and its vanity altogether - so pointless and dreary the prospect seemed to him.


He lay all that night sleepless, and yearning to go home.


Amelia's letter had fallen as a blank upon him.


No fidelity, no constant truth and passion, could move her into warmth.

No fidelity of his could move her into warmth.


Tossing in his bed, he spoke out to her.


he said, "don't you know that I only love you in the world--you, who are a stone to me--you, whom I tended through months and months of illness and grief, and who bade me farewell with a smile on your face, and forgot me before the door shut between us!"

he said, "don't you know that I only love you in the world - you, whom I tended through months of illness and grief, and who bade me farewell with a smile on your face, and forgot me before the door shut between us!"


The native servants lying outside his verandas beheld with wonder the Major, so cold and quiet ordinarily, at present so passionately moved and cast down.


Would she have pitied him had she seen him?


He read over and over all the letters which he ever had from her--letters of business relative to the little property which he had made her believe her husband had left to her--brief notes of invitation--every scrap of writing that she had ever sent to him--how cold, how kind, how hopeless, how selfish they were!

He read over and over all the letters which he ever had from her - how cold, how kind, how hopeless, how selfish they were!


Had there been some kind gentle soul near at hand who could read and appreciate this silent generous heart, who knows but that the reign of Amelia might have been over, and that friend William's love might have flowed into a kinder channel?

Had there been some kind gentle soul near at hand, who knows but that Amelia's reign might have been over?


But there was only Glorvina of the jetty ringlets with whom his intercourse was familiar, and this dashing young woman was not bent upon loving the Major, but rather on making the Major admire HER--a most vain and hopeless task, too, at least considering the means that the poor girl possessed to carry it out.

But there was only Glorvina, and this dashing young woman was not bent upon loving the Major, but rather on making him admire her.


She curled her hair and showed her shoulders at him, as much as to say, did ye ever see such jet ringlets and such a complexion?


She grinned at him so that he might see that every tooth in her head was sound--and he never heeded all these charms.

; she grinned at him so that he might see that every tooth was sound - and he never heeded all these charms.


Very soon after the arrival of the box of millinery, and perhaps indeed in honour of it, Lady O'Dowd and the ladies of the King's Regiment gave a ball to the Company's Regiments and the civilians at the station.


Glorvina sported the killing pink frock, and the Major, who attended the party and walked very ruefully up and down the rooms, never so much as perceived the pink garment.

which Glorvina sported the killing pink frock, and the Major never so much as noticed it.


Glorvina danced past him in a fury with all the young subalterns of the station, and the Major was not in the least jealous of her performance, or angry because Captain Bangles of the Cavalry handed her to supper.

In a fury, Glorvina danced past him with all the young subalterns, and the Major was not in the least jealous or angry.


It was not jealousy, or frocks, or shoulders that could move him, and Glorvina had nothing more.


So these two were each exemplifying the Vanity of this life, and each longing for what he or she could not get.


Glorvina cried with rage at the failure.


She had set her mind on the Major "more than on any of the others," she owned, sobbing.

She had set her mind on the Major "more than on any of the others," she sobbed.


"He'll break my heart, he will, Peggy," she would whimper to her sister-in-law when they were good friends; "sure every one of me frocks must be taken in--it's such a skeleton I'm growing."


Fat or thin, laughing or melancholy, on horseback or the music-stool, it was all the same to the Major.


And the Colonel, puffing his pipe and listening to these complaints, would suggest that Glory should have some black frocks out in the next box from London, and told a mysterious story of a lady in Ireland who died of grief for the loss of her husband before she got ere a one.


While the Major was going on in this tantalizing way, not proposing, and declining to fall in love, there came another ship from Europe bringing letters on board, and amongst them some more for the heartless man.

While the Major was going on in this tantalizing way, declining to fall in love, there came another ship from Europe bringing letters for him.


These were home letters bearing an earlier postmark than that of the former packets, and as Major Dobbin recognized among his the handwriting of his sister, who always crossed and recrossed her letters to her brother--gathered together all the possible bad news which she could collect, abused him and read him lectures with sisterly frankness, and always left him miserable for the day after "dearest William" had achieved the perusal of one of her epistles--the truth must be told that dearest William did not hurry himself to break the seal of Miss Dobbin's letter, but waited for a particularly favourable day and mood for doing so.

These were letters from home bearing an earlier postmark than the former ones, and as Major Dobbin recognized his sister's handwriting, and as she wrote lectures with sisterly frankness, which left him miserable for the day after, the truth is that he did not hurry to break the seal of Miss Dobbin's letter.


A fortnight before, moreover, he had written to scold her for telling those absurd stories to Mrs. Osborne, and had despatched a letter in reply to that lady, undeceiving her with respect to the reports concerning him and assuring her that "he had no sort of present intention of altering his condition."


Two or three nights after the arrival of the second package of letters, the Major had passed the evening pretty cheerfully at Lady O'Dowd's house, where Glorvina thought that he listened with rather more attention than usual to the Meeting of the Wathers, the Minsthrel Boy, and one or two other specimens of song with which she favoured him (the truth is, he was no more listening to Glorvina than to the howling of the jackals in the moonlight outside, and the delusion was hers as usual), and having played his game at chess with her (cribbage with the surgeon was Lady O'Dowd's favourite evening pastime), Major Dobbin took leave of the Colonel's family at his usual hour and retired to his own house.

Two or three nights later, the Major had passed the evening pretty cheerfully at Lady O'Dowd's house, where Glorvina thought that he listened with rather more attention than usual to the Meeting of the Wathers and the Minsthrel Boy (the truth is, he was no more listening to Glorvina than to the howling of the jackals outside). Having taken leave of the Colonel's family, Dobbin retired to his own house.


There on his table, his sister's letter lay reproaching him.


He took it up, ashamed rather of his negligence regarding it, and prepared himself for a disagreeable hour's communing with that crabbed-handed absent relative. . . .

He took it up, rather ashamed of his negligence, and prepared himself for a disagreeable hour.


It may have been an hour after the Major's departure from the Colonel's house--Sir Michael was sleeping the sleep of the just; Glorvina had arranged her black ringlets in the innumerable little bits of paper, in which it was her habit to confine them; Lady O'Dowd, too, had gone to her bed in the nuptial chamber, on the ground-floor, and had tucked her musquito curtains round her fair form, when the guard at the gates of the Commanding-Officer's compound beheld Major Dobbin, in the moonlight, rushing towards the house with a swift step and a very agitated countenance, and he passed the sentinel and went up to the windows of the Colonel's bedchamber.

Sir Michael was asleep; Glorvina had arranged her black ringlets in curl-papers; Lady O'Dowd had tucked her mosquito curtains round her bed, when the guard in the compound beheld Major Dobbin, in the moonlight, rushing towards the house in agitation. He went up to the Colonel's window and shouted.


said Dobbin and kept up a great shouting.


said Glorvina of the curl-papers, putting out her head too, from her window.

said Glorvina, putting out her head from her window.


said the Colonel, expecting there was a fire in the station, or that the route had come from headquarters.

said the Colonel, expecting a fire in the station.


I must go to England--on the most urgent private affairs," Dobbin said.

I must go to England - on the most urgent private affairs," Dobbin said.


thought Glorvina, trembling with all the papillotes.


"I want to be off--now--to-night," Dobbin continued; and the Colonel getting up, came out to parley with him.


In the postscript of Miss Dobbin's cross-letter, the Major had just come upon a paragraph, to the following effect:--"I drove yesterday to see your old ACQUAINTANCE, Mrs. Osborne.

In the postscript of Miss Dobbin's letter, he had just read:
"I drove yesterday to see your old ACQUAINTANCE, Mrs. Osborne,


The wretched place they live at, since they were bankrupts, you know--Mr. S., to judge from a BRASS PLATE on the door of his hut (it is little better) is a coal-merchant.

at the wretched place they live at since they were bankrupts. Mr. S is now a coal-merchant.


The little boy, your godson, is certainly a fine child, though forward, and inclined to be saucy and self-willed.

The little boy, your godson, is certainly a fine child, though inclined to be saucy and self-willed.


But we have taken notice of him as you wish it, and have introduced him to his aunt, Miss O., who was rather pleased with him.

But we have taken notice of him as you wish, and have introduced him to his aunt, Miss O., who was rather pleased with him.


Perhaps his grandpapa, not the bankrupt one, who is almost doting, but Mr. Osborne, of Russell Square, may be induced to relent towards the child of your friend, HIS ERRING AND SELF-WILLED SON.

Perhaps Mr. Osborne may be induced to relent towards the child.


And Amelia will not be ill-disposed to give him up.


The widow is CONSOLED, and is about to marry a reverend gentleman, the Rev. Mr. Binny, one of the curates of Brompton.

The widow is CONSOLED, and is about to marry the Reverend Mr. Binny.


But Mrs. O. is getting old, and I saw a great deal of grey in her hair--she was in very good spirits: and your little godson overate himself at our house.

But Mrs. O. is getting old, with a great deal of grey in her hair. She was in very good spirits: and your little godson over-ate at our house.


Mamma sends her love with that of your affectionate, Ann Dobbin."

Mamma sends her love.
Your affectionate Ann Dobbin."


Frankness and kindness like Amelia's were likely to touch even such a hardened little reprobate as Becky.

Amelia's kindness touched even such a hardened little reprobate as Becky.


She returned Emmy's caresses and kind speeches with something very like gratitude, and an emotion which, if it was not lasting, for a moment was almost genuine.


That was a lucky stroke of hers about the child "torn from her arms shrieking."


It was by that harrowing misfortune that Becky had won her friend back, and it was one of the very first points, we may be certain, upon which our poor simple little Emmy began to talk to her new-found acquaintance.

It was this that had won her friend back, and it was one of the very first things our poor simple Emmy began to talk about.


"And so they took your darling child from you?"


"Oh, Rebecca, my poor dear suffering friend, I know what it is to lose a boy, and to feel for those who have lost one.

"Oh, Rebecca, my poor dear friend, I know what it is to lose a boy.


But please Heaven yours will be restored to you, as a merciful merciful Providence has brought me back mine."

But please Heaven yours will be restored to you."


Oh, yes, my agonies were frightful," Becky owned, not perhaps without a twinge of conscience.


It jarred upon her to be obliged to commence instantly to tell lies in reply to so much confidence and simplicity.

It jarred upon her to have to tell lies instantly in reply to so much confidence.


But that is the misfortune of beginning with this kind of forgery.

But that is the misfortune of beginning this kind of forgery.


When one fib becomes due as it were, you must forge another to take up the old acceptance; and so the stock of your lies in circulation inevitably multiplies, and the danger of detection increases every day.

One fib leads to another; and so the number of your lies multiplies, and the danger of detection increases every day.


"My agonies," Becky continued, "were terrible (I hope she won't sit down on the bottle) when they took him away from me; I thought I should die; but I fortunately had a brain fever, during which my doctor gave me up, and--and I recovered, and--and here I am, poor and friendless."

"My agonies were terrible," Becky continued; "I thought I should die. I had a brain fever, during which my doctor gave me up, and - and I recovered, and here I am, poor and friendless."


"Why, he was born the same year with Georgy, who is--"

Why, he was born the same year as Georgy, who is-"


"I know, I know," Becky cried out, who had in fact quite forgotten all about little Rawdon's age.

"I know, I know," cried Becky, who had in fact quite forgotten Rawdon's age.


"Grief has made me forget so many things, dearest Amelia.


I am very much changed: half-wild sometimes.


He was eleven when they took him away from me.


Bless his sweet face; I have never seen it again."


"Not to-day, love--some other time, when my trunks arrive from Leipzig, whence I came to this place--and a little drawing of him, which I made in happy days."

"Not today, love - some other time, when my trunks arrive."


"How thankful, how thankful I ought to be"; (though I doubt whether that practice of piety inculcated upon us by our womankind in early youth, namely, to be thankful because we are better off than somebody else, be a very rational religious exercise) and then she began to think, as usual, how her son was the handsomest, the best, and the cleverest boy in the whole world.

"How thankful I ought to be." She began to think, as usual, how her son was the handsomest and cleverest boy in the world.


"You will see my Georgy," was the best thing Emmy could think of to console Becky.

"You will see my Georgy," was the best thing she could think of to console Becky.


If anything could make her comfortable that would.


And so the two women continued talking for an hour or more, during which Becky had the opportunity of giving her new friend a full and complete version of her private history.

And so the two women talked for an hour or more, Becky giving her friend a full version of her history.


She showed how her marriage with Rawdon Crawley had always been viewed by the family with feelings of the utmost hostility; how her sister-in-law (an artful woman) had poisoned her husband's mind against her; how he had formed odious connections, which had estranged his affections from her: how she had borne everything--poverty, neglect, coldness from the being whom she most loved--and all for the sake of her child; how, finally, and by the most flagrant outrage, she had been driven into demanding a separation from her husband, when the wretch did not scruple to ask that she should sacrifice her own fair fame so that he might procure advancement through the means of a very great and powerful but unprincipled man--the Marquis of Steyne, indeed.

She showed how her marriage with Rawdon Crawley had always been viewed by the family with hostility; how her artful sister-in-law had poisoned her husband's mind against her; how she had borne everything - poverty, neglect, coldness - for the sake of her child; how, finally, she had been driven into demanding a separation from her husband, when the wretch had asked her to sacrifice her own reputation so that he might get advancement from that powerful but unprincipled man, the Marquis of Steyne.


This part of her eventful history Becky gave with the utmost feminine delicacy and the most indignant virtue.

This part of her eventful history Becky told with the utmost delicacy and indignant virtue.


Forced to fly her husband's roof by this insult, the coward had pursued his revenge by taking her child from her.

When she was forced to fly from her husband's roof, she said, the coward had pursued his revenge by taking her child from her.


And thus Becky said she was a wanderer, poor, unprotected, friendless, and wretched.

And thus she was a wanderer, poor, friendless, and wretched.


Emmy received this story, which was told at some length, as those persons who are acquainted with her character may imagine that she would.


She quivered with indignation at the account of the conduct of the miserable Rawdon and the unprincipled Steyne.

Emmy quivered with indignation at the conduct of the miserable Rawdon and the unprincipled Steyne.


Her eyes made notes of admiration for every one of the sentences in which Becky described the persecutions of her aristocratic relatives and the falling away of her husband.


She spoke rather in sorrow than in anger.


She had loved him only too fondly: and was he not the father of her boy?)


And as for the separation scene from the child, while Becky was reciting it, Emmy retired altogether behind her pocket-handkerchief, so that the consummate little tragedian must have been charmed to see the effect which her performance produced on her audience.

And while Becky was reciting the separation scene from the child, Emmy retired behind her pocket-handkerchief.


Whilst the ladies were carrying on their conversation, Amelia's constant escort, the Major (who, of course, did not wish to interrupt their conference, and found himself rather tired of creaking about the narrow stair passage of which the roof brushed the nap from his hat) descended to the ground-floor of the house and into the great room common to all the frequenters of the Elephant, out of which the stair led.

Meanwhile, the Major (who did not wish to interrupt, and grew rather tired of creaking about the narrow stairs) descended to the ground-floor of the house and into the great room common to all the tenants,


This apartment is always in a fume of smoke and liberally sprinkled with beer.

a room full of smoke and liberally sprinkled with beer.


On a dirty table stand scores of corresponding brass candlesticks with tallow candles for the lodgers, whose keys hang up in rows over the candles.


Emmy had passed blushing through the room anon, where all sorts of people were collected; Tyrolese glove-sellers and Danubian linen-merchants, with their packs; students recruiting themselves with butterbrods and meat; idlers, playing cards or dominoes on the sloppy, beery tables; tumblers refreshing during the cessation of their performances--in a word, all the fumum and strepitus of a German inn in fair time.

All sorts of people were collected here; glove-sellers and linen-merchants, students and idlers, playing cards on the sloppy, beery tables.


The waiter brought the Major a mug of beer, as a matter of course, and he took out a cigar and amused himself with that pernicious vegetable and a newspaper until his charge should come down to claim him.

The waiter brought the Major a mug of beer, and he took out a cigar and a newspaper until Amelia should come down.


Max and Fritz came presently downstairs, their caps on one side, their spurs jingling, their pipes splendid with coats of arms and full-blown tassels, and they hung up the key of No.


90 on the board and called for the ration of butterbrod and beer.


The pair sat down by the Major and fell into a conversation of which he could not help hearing somewhat.

The pair sat down by the Major and fell into a conversation in German which he could not help overhearing.


It was mainly about "Fuchs" and "Philister," and duels and drinking-bouts at the neighbouring University of Schoppenhausen, from which renowned seat of learning they had just come in the Eilwagen, with Becky, as it appeared, by their side, and in order to be present at the bridal fetes at Pumpernickel.

It was mainly about duels and drinking-bouts at the University, from which they had come with Becky, as it appeared, in order to attend the bridal fetes at Pumpernickel.


"The title Englanderinn seems to be en bays de gonnoisance," said Max, who knew the French language, to Fritz, his comrade.


"After the fat grandfather went away, there came a pretty little compatriot.

"After the fat grandfather went away, there came a pretty little Englishwoman," said one.


I heard them chattering and whimpering together in the little woman's chamber."


"We must take the tickets for her concert," Fritz said.

"We must take the tickets for her concert," said the other.


"Bah," said the other, "the concert is a concert in nubibus.


Hans said that she advertised one at Leipzig, and the Burschen took many tickets.


She said in the coach yesterday that her pianist had fallen ill at Dresden.

She said yesterday that her pianist had fallen ill at Dresden.


She cannot sing, it is my belief: her voice is as cracked as thine, O thou beer-soaking Renowner!"


"It is cracked; I hear her trying out of her window a schrecklich English ballad, called 'De Rose upon de Balgony.'"

"Her voice is cracked; I hear her trying out of her window an English ballad, called 'De Rose upon de Balgony.'"


"Saufen and singen go not together," observed Fritz with the red nose, who evidently preferred the former amusement.


"No, thou shalt take none of her tickets.


She won money at the trente and quarante last night.

She won money at the gaming-table last night.


I saw her: she made a little English boy play for her.


We will spend thy money there or at the theatre, or we will treat her to French wine or Cognac in the Aurelius Garden, but the tickets we will not buy.


and one and another successively having buried their blond whiskers in the mawkish draught, curled them and swaggered off into the fair.

and having buried their blond whiskers in the drink, they swaggered off into the fair.


90 put up on its hook and had heard the conversation of the two young University bloods, was not at a loss to understand that their talk related to Becky.

understood that their talk related to Becky.


"The little devil is at her old tricks," he thought, and he smiled as he recalled old days, when he had witnessed the desperate flirtation with Jos and the ludicrous end of that adventure.

"The little devil is at her old tricks," he thought, and he smiled as he recalled her desperate flirtation with Jos and the ludicrous end of that adventure.


He and George had often laughed over it subsequently, and until a few weeks after George's marriage, when he also was caught in the little Circe's toils, and had an understanding with her which his comrade certainly suspected, but preferred to ignore.

He and George had often laughed over it, until George was also caught in the little Circe's toils, and had an understanding with her which his comrade suspected, but preferred to ignore.


William was too much hurt or ashamed to ask to fathom that disgraceful mystery, although once, and evidently with remorse on his mind, George had alluded to it.

William was too ashamed to ask about that disgraceful mystery, although once George had alluded to it.


It was on the morning of Waterloo, as the young men stood together in front of their line, surveying the black masses of Frenchmen who crowned the opposite heights, and as the rain was coming down, "I have been mixing in a foolish intrigue with a woman," George said.

It was on the morning of Waterloo, as the young men stood surveying the black masses of Frenchmen opposite their line.
"I have been mixing in a foolish intrigue with a woman," George said.


If I drop, I hope Emmy will never know of that business.

"If I fall, I hope Emmy will never know of that business.


And William was pleased to think, and had more than once soothed poor George's widow with the narrative, that Osborne, after quitting his wife, and after the action of Quatre Bras, on the first day, spoke gravely and affectionately to his comrade of his father and his wife.

And William had soothed poor George's widow with the fact that Osborne, on the first day of battle, spoke gravely and affectionately of his wife.


On these facts, too, William had insisted very strongly in his conversations with the elder Osborne, and had thus been the means of reconciling the old gentleman to his son's memory, just at the close of the elder man's life.


"And so this devil is still going on with her intrigues," thought William.


"I wish she were a hundred miles from here.


And he was pursuing these forebodings and this uncomfortable train of thought, with his head between his hands, and the Pumpernickel Gazette of last week unread under his nose, when somebody tapped his shoulder with a parasol, and he looked up and saw Mrs. Amelia.

He was thinking this when somebody tapped his shoulder, and he looked up and saw Amelia.


This woman had a way of tyrannizing over Major Dobbin (for the weakest of all people will domineer over somebody), and she ordered him about, and patted him, and made him fetch and carry just as if he was a great Newfoundland dog.

This woman had a way of tyrannizing over Major Dobbin; she ordered him about, and made him fetch and carry just as if he was a great Newfoundland dog.


He liked, so to speak, to jump into the water if she said "High, Dobbin!"

He liked, so to speak, to jump into the water if she told him to,


and to trot behind her with her reticule in his mouth.

and to trot behind her with her bag in his mouth.


This history has been written to very little purpose if the reader has not perceived that the Major was a spooney.


"Why did you not wait for me, sir, to escort me downstairs?"

"Why did you not wait for me upstairs, sir?"


she said, giving a little toss of her head and a most sarcastic curtsey.

she said, with a little toss of her head.


"I couldn't stand up in the passage," he answered with a comical deprecatory look; and, delighted to give her his arm and to take her out of the horrid smoky place, he would have walked off without even so much as remembering the waiter, had not the young fellow run after him and stopped him on the threshold of the Elephant to make him pay for the beer which he had not consumed.

"I couldn't stand up in the passage," he answered; and, delighted to take her out of the horrid smoky place, he would have walked off without paying if the waiter had not stopped him.


Emmy laughed: she called him a naughty man, who wanted to run away in debt, and, in fact, made some jokes suitable to the occasion and the small-beer.

Emmy laughed: she called him a naughty man.


She was in high spirits and good humour, and tripped across the market-place very briskly.

She was in high spirits, and tripped across the market-place very briskly


The Major laughed at the impetuous affection Mrs. Amelia exhibited; for, in truth, it was not very often that she wanted her brother "that instant."


They found the civilian in his saloon on the first-floor; he had been pacing the room, and biting his nails, and looking over the market-place towards the Elephant a hundred times at least during the past hour whilst Emmy was closeted with her friend in the garret and the Major was beating the tattoo on the sloppy tables of the public room below, and he was, on his side too, very anxious to see Mrs. Osborne.

They found him in his saloon on the first-floor; he had been anxiously pacing the room, and biting his nails during the past hour whilst Emmy was closeted with Becky.


"The poor dear creature, how she has suffered!"


"God bless my soul, yes," Jos said, wagging his head, so that his cheeks quivered like jellies.


"She may have Payne's room, who can go upstairs," Emmy continued.

"She may have Payne's room," Emmy continued, "and Payne may go upstairs."


Payne was a staid English maid and personal attendant upon Mrs. Osborne, to whom the courier, as in duty bound, paid court, and whom Georgy used to "lark" dreadfully with accounts of German robbers and ghosts.


She passed her time chiefly in grumbling, in ordering about her mistress, and in stating her intention to return the next morning to her native village of Clapham.

who passed her time chiefly in grumbling, and in stating her intention to return to her native Clapham.


"Why, you don't mean to say you are going to have that woman into the house?"

"Why, you don't mean to say you are going to have that woman in the house?"


"Of course we are," said Amelia in the most innocent way in the world.


"Don't be angry and break the furniture, Major Dobbin.


Of course we are going to have her here."


"The poor creature, after all her sufferings," Emmy continued; "her horrid banker broken and run away; her husband--wicked wretch--having deserted her and taken her child away from her" (here she doubled her two little fists and held them in a most menacing attitude before her, so that the Major was charmed to see such a dauntless virago) "the poor dear thing!

"The poor creature, after all her sufferings," Emmy continued; "her wicked husband having taken her child away from her" (here she doubled her two little fists in a way that charmed the Major.) "The poor dear thing!


quite alone and absolutely forced to give lessons in singing to get her bread--and not have her here!"

quite alone and forced to give singing lessons!"


"Take lessons, my dear Mrs. George," cried the Major, "but don't have her in the house."


"You who are always good and kind--always used to be at any rate--I'm astonished at you, Major William," Amelia cried.

"I'm astonished at you, Major William," Amelia cried.


"Why, what is the moment to help her but when she is so miserable?

"Why, now is the time to help her, when she is so miserable


Now is the time to be of service to her.


The oldest friend I ever had, and not--"


"She was not always your friend, Amelia," the Major said, for he was quite angry.


This allusion was too much for Emmy, who, looking the Major almost fiercely in the face, said, "For shame, Major Dobbin!"

Emmy, looking the Major almost fiercely in the face, said, "For shame, Major Dobbin!"


and after having fired this shot, she walked out of the room with a most majestic air and shut her own door briskly on herself and her outraged dignity.

and walked out of the room with a most majestic air.


"Oh, it was cruel of him to remind me of it," and she looked up at George's picture, which hung there as usual, with the portrait of the boy underneath.

"Oh, it was cruel of him to remind me of it." She looked up at George's picture.


"If I had forgiven it, ought he to have spoken?


And it is from his own lips that I know how wicked and groundless my jealousy was; and that you were pure--oh, yes, you were pure, my saint in heaven!"

And it is from his own lips that I know how wicked and groundless my jealousy was; and that you were pure - oh, you were pure, my saint in heaven!"


She paced the room, trembling and indignant.


She went and leaned on the chest of drawers over which the picture hung, and gazed and gazed at it.

Leaning on the chest of drawers over which George's picture hung, she gazed at it.


Its eyes seemed to look down on her with a reproach that deepened as she looked.


The early dear, dear memories of that brief prime of love rushed back upon her.

The early dear memories of that brief time of love rushed back.


The wound which years had scarcely cicatrized bled afresh, and oh, how bitterly!

The wound bled afresh, and oh, how bitterly.


She could not bear the reproaches of the husband there before her.


That unlucky word had undone the work of many a year--the long laborious edifice of a life of love and constancy--raised too upon what secret and hidden foundations, wherein lay buried passions, uncounted struggles, unknown sacrifices--a little word was spoken, and down fell the fair palace of hope--one word, and away flew the bird which he had been trying all his life to lure!

That unlucky word had undone the work of many a year - the long labour of love and constancy. A word was spoken, and down fell the fair palace of hope - away flew the bird which he had been trying all his life to lure!


William, though he saw by Amelia's looks that a great crisis had come, nevertheless continued to implore Sedley, in the most energetic terms, to beware of Rebecca; and he eagerly, almost frantically, adjured Jos not to receive her.

William nevertheless continued to implore Sedley, most energetically, to beware of Rebecca; he urged Jos not to receive her.


He besought Mr. Sedley to inquire at least regarding her; told him how he had heard that she was in the company of gamblers and people of ill repute; pointed out what evil she had done in former days, how she and Crawley had misled poor George into ruin, how she was now parted from her husband, by her own confession, and, perhaps, for good reason.

He asked him to inquire about her at least; told him how he had heard that she was in the company of gamblers; pointed out how she and Crawley had misled poor George into ruin, and how she was now parted from her husband, perhaps for good reason.


What a dangerous companion she would be for his sister, who knew nothing of the affairs of the world!


William implored Jos, with all the eloquence which he could bring to bear, and a great deal more energy than this quiet gentleman was ordinarily in the habit of showing, to keep Rebecca out of his household.


Had he been less violent, or more dexterous, he might have succeeded in his supplications to Jos; but the civilian was not a little jealous of the airs of superiority which the Major constantly exhibited towards him, as he fancied (indeed, he had imparted his opinions to Mr. Kirsch, the courier, whose bills Major Dobbin checked on this journey, and who sided with his master), and he began a blustering speech about his competency to defend his own honour, his desire not to have his affairs meddled with, his intention, in fine, to rebel against the Major, when the colloquy--rather a long and stormy one--was put an end to in the simplest way possible, namely, by the arrival of Mrs. Becky, with a porter from the Elephant Hotel in charge of her very meagre baggage.

Had William been less violent, or more dexterous, he might have succeeded; but Jos was jealous of the airs of superiority which he fancied the Major showed towards him, and he began a blustering speech about his competency to defend his own honour, his desire not to have his affairs meddled with, his intention to rebel against the Major - when the stormy conversation was ended by the arrival of Mrs. Becky with her meagre baggage.


She greeted her host with affectionate respect and made a shrinking, but amicable salutation to Major Dobbin, who, as her instinct assured her at once, was her enemy, and had been speaking against her; and the bustle and clatter consequent upon her arrival brought Amelia out of her room.

She greeted her host with affectionate respect and made a shrinking salutation to Major Dobbin, who her instinct told her was her enemy. The bustle of her arrival brought Amelia out of her room.


Emmy went up and embraced her guest with the greatest warmth, and took no notice of the Major, except to fling him an angry look--the most unjust and scornful glance that had perhaps ever appeared in that poor little woman's face since she was born.

Emmy embraced her guest with the greatest warmth, and took no notice of the Major, except to fling him an angry look - the most unjust and scornful glance that had perhaps ever appeared on that poor little woman's face.


But she had private reasons of her own, and was bent upon being angry with him.


And Dobbin, indignant at the injustice, not at the defeat, went off, making her a bow quite as haughty as the killing curtsey with which the little woman chose to bid him farewell.

Dobbin, indignant at the injustice, not at the defeat, made her a haughty bow and left.


He being gone, Emmy was particularly lively and affectionate to Rebecca, and bustled about the apartments and installed her guest in her room with an eagerness and activity seldom exhibited by our placid little friend.

Emmy was particularly lively and affectionate to Rebecca, and installed her guest in her room with eager activity.


But when an act of injustice is to be done, especially by weak people, it is best that it should be done quickly, and Emmy thought she was displaying a great deal of firmness and proper feeling and veneration for the late Captain Osborne in her present behaviour.


Georgy came in from the fetes for dinner-time and found four covers laid as usual; but one of the places was occupied by a lady, instead of by Major Dobbin.

Georgy came in from the fetes at dinner-time to find a lady at the table instead of Major Dobbin.


the young gentleman asked with his usual simplicity of language.


"Major Dobbin is dining out, I suppose," his mother said, and, drawing the boy to her, kissed him a great deal, and put his hair off his forehead, and introduced him to Mrs. Crawley.

"Major Dobbin is dining out, I suppose," his mother said, and, drawing the boy to her, kissed him, and introduced him to Mrs. Crawley.


"This is my boy, Rebecca," Mrs. Osborne said--as much as to say--can the world produce anything like that?

"This is my boy, Rebecca," Mrs. Osborne said - as much as to say, can the world produce anything like that?


Becky looked at him with rapture and pressed his hand fondly.


she said--"he is just like my--" Emotion choked her further utterance, but Amelia understood, as well as if she had spoken, that Becky was thinking of her own blessed child.

she said. "He is just like my-" Emotion choked her speech, but Amelia understood.


However, the company of her friend consoled Mrs. Crawley, and she ate a very good dinner.

However, Mrs. Crawley ate a very good dinner.


During the repast, she had occasion to speak several times, when Georgy eyed her and listened to her.

During the meal, Georgy eyed her and listened to her.


At the desert Emmy was gone out to superintend further domestic arrangements; Jos was in his great chair dozing over Galignani; Georgy and the new arrival sat close to each other--he had continued to look at her knowingly more than once, and at last he laid down the nutcrackers.

At the dessert Emmy was gone out to the kitchen; Jos was in his great chair dozing; Georgy and the new arrival sat close to each other, and at last he laid down the nutcrackers.


"You're the lady I saw in the mask at the Rouge et Noir."


you little sly creature," Becky said, taking up his hand and kissing it.


"Your uncle was there too, and Mamma mustn't know."


"Oh, no--not by no means," answered the little fellow.


"You see we are quite good friends already," Becky said to Emmy, who now re-entered; and it must be owned that Mrs. Osborne had introduced a most judicious and amiable companion into her house.

"You see we are good friends already," Becky said to Emmy, as she re-entered.


William, in a state of great indignation, though still unaware of all the treason that was in store for him, walked about the town wildly until he fell upon the Secretary of Legation, Tapeworm, who invited him to dinner.

Meanwhile William, in a state of great indignation, walked about the town wildly until he fell upon the Charge d'Affaires, Tapeworm, who invited him to dinner.


As they were discussing that meal, he took occasion to ask the Secretary whether he knew anything about a certain Mrs. Rawdon Crawley, who had, he believed, made some noise in London; and then Tapeworm, who of course knew all the London gossip, and was besides a relative of Lady Gaunt, poured out into the astonished Major's ears such a history about Becky and her husband as astonished the querist, and supplied all the points of this narrative, for it was at that very table years ago that the present writer had the pleasure of hearing the tale.

He took the opportunity to ask the diplomat whether he knew anything about a certain Mrs. Rawdon Crawley; and Tapeworm, who of course knew all the London gossip, poured into the Major's ears such a history as astonished him.


Tufto, Steyne, the Crawleys, and their history--everything connected with Becky and her previous life passed under the record of the bitter diplomatist.


He knew everything and a great deal besides, about all the world--in a word, he made the most astounding revelations to the simple-hearted Major.

Tapeworm knew everything and a great deal besides, and made the most astounding revelations.


When Dobbin said that Mrs. Osborne and Mr. Sedley had taken her into their house, Tapeworm burst into a peal of laughter which shocked the Major, and asked if they had not better send into the prison and take in one or two of the gentlemen in shaved heads and yellow jackets who swept the streets of Pumpernickel, chained in pairs, to board and lodge, and act as tutor to that little scapegrace Georgy.

When Dobbin said that Mrs. Osborne and Mr. Sedley had taken Becky into their house, Tapeworm burst into a peal of laughter, and asked if they had not better send to the prison and take in one or two of the gentlemen in shaved heads and chains.


This information astonished and horrified the Major not a little.


It had been agreed in the morning (before meeting with Rebecca) that Amelia should go to the Court ball that night.

Amelia was going to the Court ball that night, and the