I know that the tune I am piping is a very mild one (although there aresome terrific chapters coming presently), and must beg the good-naturedreader to remember that we are only discoursing at present about astockbroker's family in Russell Square, who are taking walks, orluncheon, or dinner, or talking and making love as people do in commonlife, and without a single passionate and wonderful incident to markthe progress of their loves. The argument stands thus--Osborne, inlove with Amelia, has asked an old friend to dinner and toVauxhall--Jos Sedley is in love with Rebecca. Will he marry her? Thatis the great subject now in hand.

We might have treated this subject in the genteel, or in the romantic,or in the facetious manner. Suppose we had laid the scene in GrosvenorSquare, with the very same adventures--would not some people havelistened? Suppose we had shown how Lord Joseph Sedley fell in love, andthe Marquis of Osborne became attached to Lady Amelia, with the fullconsent of the Duke, her noble father: or instead of the supremelygenteel, suppose we had resorted to the entirely low, and describedwhat was going on in Mr. Sedley's kitchen--how black Sambo was in lovewith the cook (as indeed he was), and how he fought a battle with thecoachman in her behalf; how the knife-boy was caught stealing a coldshoulder of mutton, and Miss Sedley's new femme de chambre refused togo to bed without a wax candle; such incidents might be made to provokemuch delightful laughter, and be supposed to represent scenes of"life." Or if, on the contrary, we had taken a fancy for the terrible,and made the lover of the new femme de chambre a professional burglar,who bursts into the house with his band, slaughters black Sambo at thefeet of his master, and carries off Amelia in her night-dress, not tobe let loose again till the third volume, we should easily haveconstructed a tale of thrilling interest, through the fiery chapters ofwhich the reader should hurry, panting. But my readers must hope forno such romance, only a homely story, and must be content with achapter about Vauxhall, which is so short that it scarce deserves to becalled a chapter at all. And yet it is a chapter, and a very importantone too. Are not there little chapters in everybody's life, that seemto be nothing, and yet affect all the rest of the history?

Let us then step into the coach with the Russell Square party, and beoff to the Gardens. There is barely room between Jos and Miss Sharp,who are on the front seat. Mr. Osborne sitting bodkin opposite,between Captain Dobbin and Amelia.

Every soul in the coach agreed that on that night Jos would propose tomake Rebecca Sharp Mrs. Sedley. The parents at home had acquiesced inthe arrangement, though, between ourselves, old Mr. Sedley had afeeling very much akin to contempt for his son. He said he was vain,selfish, lazy, and effeminate. He could not endure his airs as a manof fashion, and laughed heartily at his pompous braggadocio stories."I shall leave the fellow half my property," he said; "and he willhave, besides, plenty of his own; but as I am perfectly sure that ifyou, and I, and his sister were to die to-morrow, he would say 'GoodGad!' and eat his dinner just as well as usual, I am not going to makemyself anxious about him. Let him marry whom he likes. It's no affairof mine."

Amelia, on the other hand, as became a young woman of her prudence andtemperament, was quite enthusiastic for the match. Once or twice Joshad been on the point of saying something very important to her, towhich she was most willing to lend an ear, but the fat fellow could notbe brought to unbosom himself of his great secret, and very much to hissister's disappointment he only rid himself of a large sigh and turnedaway.

This mystery served to keep Amelia's gentle bosom in a perpetualflutter of excitement. If she did not speak with Rebecca on the tendersubject, she compensated herself with long and intimate conversationswith Mrs. Blenkinsop, the housekeeper, who dropped some hints to thelady's-maid, who may have cursorily mentioned the matter to the cook,who carried the news, I have no doubt, to all the tradesmen, so thatMr. Jos's marriage was now talked of by a very considerable number ofpersons in the Russell Square world.

It was, of course, Mrs. Sedley's opinion that her son would demeanhimself by a marriage with an artist's daughter. "But, lor', Ma'am,"ejaculated Mrs. Blenkinsop, "we was only grocers when we married Mr.S., who was a stock-broker's clerk, and we hadn't five hundred poundsamong us, and we're rich enough now." And Amelia was entirely of thisopinion, to which, gradually, the good-natured Mrs. Sedley was brought.

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

So that everything seemed to smile upon Rebecca's fortunes. She tookJos's arm, as a matter of course, on going to dinner; she had sate byhim on the box of his open carriage (a most tremendous "buck" he was,as he sat there, serene, in state, driving his greys), and thoughnobody said a word on the subject of the marriage, everybody seemed tounderstand it. All she wanted was the proposal, and ah! how Rebeccanow felt the want of a mother!--a dear, tender mother, who would havemanaged the business in ten minutes, and, in the course of a littledelicate confidential conversation, would have extracted theinteresting avowal from the bashful lips of the young man!

Such was the state of affairs as the carriage crossed Westminsterbridge.

The party was landed at the Royal Gardens in due time. As the majesticJos stepped out of the creaking vehicle the crowd gave a cheer for thefat gentleman, who blushed and looked very big and mighty, as he walkedaway with Rebecca under his arm. George, of course, took charge ofAmelia. She looked as happy as a rose-tree in sunshine.

"I say, Dobbin," says George, "just look to the shawls and things,there's a good fellow." And so while he paired off with Miss Sedley,and Jos squeezed through the gate into the gardens with Rebecca at hisside, honest Dobbin contented himself by giving an arm to the shawls,and by paying at the door for the whole party.

He walked very modestly behind them. He was not willing to spoilsport. About Rebecca and Jos he did not care a fig. But he thoughtAmelia worthy even of the brilliant George Osborne, and as he saw thatgood-looking couple threading the walks to the girl's delight andwonder, he watched her artless happiness with a sort of fatherlypleasure. Perhaps he felt that he would have liked to have somethingon his own arm besides a shawl (the people laughed at seeing the gawkyyoung officer carrying this female burthen); but William Dobbin wasvery little addicted to selfish calculation at all; and so long as hisfriend was enjoying himself, how should he be discontented? And thetruth is, that of all the delights of the Gardens; of the hundredthousand extra lamps, which were always lighted; the fiddlers in cockedhats, who played ravishing melodies under the gilded cockle-shell inthe midst of the gardens; the singers, both of comic and sentimentalballads, who charmed the ears there; the country dances, formed bybouncing cockneys and cockneyesses, and executed amidst jumping,thumping and laughter; the signal which announced that Madame Saqui wasabout to mount skyward on a slack-rope ascending to the stars; thehermit that always sat in the illuminated hermitage; the dark walks, sofavourable to the interviews of young lovers; the pots of stout handedabout by the people in the shabby old liveries; and the twinklingboxes, in which the happy feasters made-believe to eat slices of almostinvisible ham--of all these things, and of the gentle Simpson, thatkind smiling idiot, who, I daresay, presided even then over theplace--Captain William Dobbin did not take the slightest notice.

He carried about Amelia's white cashmere shawl, and having attendedunder the gilt cockle-shell, while Mrs. Salmon performed the Battle ofBorodino (a savage cantata against the Corsican upstart, who had latelymet with his Russian reverses)--Mr. Dobbin tried to hum it as he walkedaway, and found he was humming--the tune which Amelia Sedley sang onthe stairs, as she came down to dinner.

He burst out laughing at himself; for the truth is, he could sing nobetter than an owl.

It is to be understood, as a matter of course, that our young people,being in parties of two and two, made the most solemn promises to keeptogether during the evening, and separated in ten minutes afterwards.Parties at Vauxhall always did separate, but 'twas only to meet againat supper-time, when they could talk of their mutual adventures in theinterval.

What were the adventures of Mr. Osborne and Miss Amelia? That is asecret. But be sure of this--they were perfectly happy, and correct intheir behaviour; and as they had been in the habit of being togetherany time these fifteen years, their tete-a-tete offered no particularnovelty.

But when Miss Rebecca Sharp and her stout companion lost themselves ina solitary walk, in which there were not above five score more ofcouples similarly straying, they both felt that the situation wasextremely tender and critical, and now or never was the moment MissSharp thought, to provoke that declaration which was trembling on thetimid lips of Mr. Sedley. They had previously been to the panorama ofMoscow, where a rude fellow, treading on Miss Sharp's foot, caused herto fall back with a little shriek into the arms of Mr. Sedley, and thislittle incident increased the tenderness and confidence of thatgentleman to such a degree, that he told her several of his favouriteIndian stories over again for, at least, the sixth time.

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

"SHOULD you?" said Joseph, with a most killing tenderness; and was nodoubt about to follow up this artful interrogatory by a question stillmore tender (for he puffed and panted a great deal, and Rebecca's hand,which was placed near his heart, could count the feverish pulsations ofthat organ), when, oh, provoking! the bell rang for the fireworks, and,a great scuffling and running taking place, these interesting loverswere obliged to follow in the stream of people.

Captain Dobbin had some thoughts of joining the party at supper: as, intruth, he found the Vauxhall amusements not particularly lively--but heparaded twice before the box where the now united couples were met, andnobody took any notice of him. Covers were laid for four. The matedpairs were prattling away quite happily, and Dobbin knew he was asclean forgotten as if he had never existed in this world.

"I should only be de trop," said the Captain, looking at them ratherwistfully. "I'd best go and talk to the hermit,"--and so he strolledoff out of the hum of men, and noise, and clatter of the banquet, intothe dark walk, at the end of which lived that well-known pasteboardSolitary. It wasn't very good fun for Dobbin--and, indeed, to be aloneat Vauxhall, I have found, from my own experience, to be one of themost dismal sports ever entered into by a bachelor.

The two couples were perfectly happy then in their box: where the mostdelightful and intimate conversation took place. Jos was in his glory,ordering about the waiters with great majesty. He made the salad; anduncorked the Champagne; and carved the chickens; and ate and drank thegreater part of the refreshments on the tables. Finally, he insistedupon having a bowl of rack punch; everybody had rack punch at Vauxhall."Waiter, rack punch."

That bowl of rack punch was the cause of all this history. And why nota bowl of rack punch as well as any other cause? Was not a bowl ofprussic acid the cause of Fair Rosamond's retiring from the world? Wasnot a bowl of wine the cause of the demise of Alexander the Great, or,at least, does not Dr. Lempriere say so?--so did this bowl of rackpunch influence the fates of all the principal characters in this"Novel without a Hero," which we are now relating. It influenced theirlife, although most of them did not taste a drop of it.

The young ladies did not drink it; Osborne did not like it; and theconsequence was that Jos, that fat gourmand, drank up the wholecontents of the bowl; and the consequence of his drinking up the wholecontents of the bowl was a liveliness which at first was astonishing,and then became almost painful; for he talked and laughed so loud as tobring scores of listeners round the box, much to the confusion of theinnocent party within it; and, volunteering to sing a song (which hedid in that maudlin high key peculiar to gentlemen in an inebriatedstate), he almost drew away the audience who were gathered round themusicians in the gilt scollop-shell, and received from his hearers agreat deal of applause.

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

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

"Stop, my dearest diddle-diddle-darling," shouted Jos, now as bold as alion, and clasping Miss Rebecca round the waist. Rebecca started, butshe could not get away her hand. The laughter outside redoubled. Joscontinued to drink, to make love, and to sing; and, winking and wavinghis glass gracefully to his audience, challenged all or any to come inand take a share of his punch.

Mr. Osborne was just on the point of knocking down a gentleman intop-boots, who proposed to take advantage of this invitation, and acommotion seemed to be inevitable, when by the greatest good luck agentleman of the name of Dobbin, who had been walking about thegardens, stepped up to the box. "Be off, you fools!" said thisgentleman--shouldering off a great number of the crowd, who vanishedpresently before his cocked hat and fierce appearance--and he enteredthe box in a most agitated state.

"Good Heavens! Dobbin, where have you been?" Osborne said, seizing thewhite cashmere shawl from his friend's arm, and huddling up Amelia init.--"Make yourself useful, and take charge of Jos here, whilst I takethe ladies to the carriage."

Jos was for rising to interfere--but a single push from Osborne'sfinger sent him puffing back into his seat again, and the lieutenantwas enabled to remove the ladies in safety. Jos kissed his hand tothem as they retreated, and hiccupped out "Bless you! Bless you!" Then,seizing Captain Dobbin's hand, and weeping in the most pitiful way, heconfided to that gentleman the secret of his loves. He adored thatgirl who had just gone out; he had broken her heart, he knew he had, byhis conduct; he would marry her next morning at St. George's, HanoverSquare; he'd knock up the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth: hewould, by Jove! and have him in readiness; and, acting on this hint,Captain Dobbin shrewdly induced him to leave the gardens and hasten toLambeth Palace, and, when once out of the gates, easily conveyed Mr.Jos Sedley into a hackney-coach, which deposited him safely at hislodgings.

George Osborne conducted the girls home in safety: and when the doorwas closed upon them, and as he walked across Russell Square, laughedso as to astonish the watchman. Amelia looked very ruefully at herfriend, as they went up stairs, and kissed her, and went to bed withoutany more talking.

"He must propose to-morrow," thought Rebecca. "He called me his soul'sdarling, four times; he squeezed my hand in Amelia's presence. He mustpropose to-morrow." And so thought Amelia, too. And I dare say shethought of the dress she was to wear as bridesmaid, and of the presentswhich she should make to her nice little sister-in-law, and of asubsequent ceremony in which she herself might play a principal part,&c., and &c., and &c., and &c.

Oh, ignorant young creatures! How little do you know the effect of rackpunch! What is the rack in the punch, at night, to the rack in the headof a morning? To this truth I can vouch as a man; there is no headachein the world like that caused by Vauxhall punch. Through the lapse oftwenty years, I can remember the consequence of two glasses! twowine-glasses! but two, upon the honour of a gentleman; and JosephSedley, who had a liver complaint, had swallowed at least a quart ofthe abominable mixture.

That next morning, which Rebecca thought was to dawn upon her fortune,found Sedley groaning in agonies which the pen refuses to describe.Soda-water was not invented yet. Small beer--will it be believed!--wasthe only drink with which unhappy gentlemen soothed the fever of theirprevious night's potation. With this mild beverage before him, GeorgeOsborne found the ex-Collector of Boggley Wollah groaning on the sofaat his lodgings. Dobbin was already in the room, good-naturedlytending his patient of the night before. The two officers, looking atthe prostrate Bacchanalian, and askance at each other, exchanged themost frightful sympathetic grins. Even Sedley's valet, the most solemnand correct of gentlemen, with the muteness and gravity of anundertaker, could hardly keep his countenance in order, as he looked athis unfortunate master.

"Mr. Sedley was uncommon wild last night, sir," he whispered inconfidence to Osborne, as the latter mounted the stair. "He wanted tofight the 'ackney-coachman, sir. The Capting was obliged to bring himupstairs in his harms like a babby." A momentary smile flickered overMr. Brush's features as he spoke; instantly, however, they relapsedinto their usual unfathomable calm, as he flung open the drawing-roomdoor, and announced "Mr. Hosbin."

"How are you, Sedley?" that young wag began, after surveying hisvictim. "No bones broke? There's a hackney-coachman downstairs with ablack eye, and a tied-up head, vowing he'll have the law of you."

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

"For thrashing him last night--didn't he, Dobbin? You hit out, sir,like Molyneux. The watchman says he never saw a fellow go down sostraight. Ask Dobbin."

"You DID have a round with the coachman," Captain Dobbin said, "andshowed plenty of fight too."

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

"I believe I'm very terrible, when I'm roused," ejaculated Jos from thesofa, and made a grimace so dreary and ludicrous, that the Captain'spoliteness could restrain him no longer, and he and Osborne fired off aringing volley of laughter.

Osborne pursued his advantage pitilessly. He thought Jos a milksop. Hehad been revolving in his mind the marriage question pending betweenJos and Rebecca, and was not over well pleased that a member of afamily into which he, George Osborne, of the --th, was going to marry,should make a mesalliance with a little nobody--a little upstartgoverness. "You hit, you poor old fellow!" said Osborne. "Youterrible! Why, man, you couldn't stand--you made everybody laugh in theGardens, though you were crying yourself. You were maudlin, Jos.Don't you remember singing a song?"

"A what?" Jos asked.

"A sentimental song, and calling Rosa, Rebecca, what's her name,Amelia's little friend--your dearest diddle-diddle-darling?" And thisruthless young fellow, seizing hold of Dobbin's hand, acted over thescene, to the horror of the original performer, and in spite ofDobbin's good-natured entreaties to him to have mercy.

"Why should I spare him?" Osborne said to his friend's remonstrances,when they quitted the invalid, leaving him under the hands of DoctorGollop. "What the deuce right has he to give himself his patronizingairs, and make fools of us at Vauxhall? Who's this little schoolgirlthat is ogling and making love to him? Hang it, the family's low enoughalready, without HER. A governess is all very well, but I'd ratherhave a lady for my sister-in-law. I'm a liberal man; but I've properpride, and know my own station: let her know hers. And I'll take downthat great hectoring Nabob, and prevent him from being made a greaterfool than he is. That's why I told him to look out, lest she broughtan action against him."

"I suppose you know best," Dobbin said, though rather dubiously. "Youalways were a Tory, and your family's one of the oldest in England.But--"

"Come and see the girls, and make love to Miss Sharp yourself," thelieutenant here interrupted his friend; but Captain Dobbin declined tojoin Osborne in his daily visit to the young ladies in Russell Square.

As George walked down Southampton Row, from Holborn, he laughed as hesaw, at the Sedley Mansion, in two different stories two heads on thelook-out.

The fact is, Miss Amelia, in the drawing-room balcony, was looking veryeagerly towards the opposite side of the Square, where Mr. Osbornedwelt, on the watch for the lieutenant himself; and Miss Sharp, fromher little bed-room on the second floor, was in observation until Mr.Joseph's great form should heave in sight.

"Sister Anne is on the watch-tower," said he to Amelia, "but there'snobody coming"; and laughing and enjoying the joke hugely, he describedin the most ludicrous terms to Miss Sedley, the dismal condition of herbrother.

"I think it's very cruel of you to laugh, George," she said, lookingparticularly unhappy; but George only laughed the more at her piteousand discomfited mien, persisted in thinking the joke a most divertingone, and when Miss Sharp came downstairs, bantered her with a greatdeal of liveliness upon the effect of her charms on the fat civilian.

"O Miss Sharp! if you could but see him this morning," hesaid--"moaning in his flowered dressing-gown--writhing on his sofa; ifyou could but have seen him lolling out his tongue to Gollop theapothecary."

"See whom?" said Miss Sharp.

"Whom? O whom? Captain Dobbin, of course, to whom we were all soattentive, by the way, last night."

"We were very unkind to him," Emmy said, blushing very much. "I--Iquite forgot him."

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

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

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

"Very good, Miss Sharp, I'll tell him," Osborne said; and as he spokeMiss Sharp began to have a feeling of distrust and hatred towards thisyoung officer, which he was quite unconscious of having inspired. "Heis to make fun of me, is he?" thought Rebecca. "Has he been laughingabout me to Joseph? Has he frightened him? Perhaps he won't come."--Afilm passed over her eyes, and her heart beat quite quick.

"You're always joking," said she, smiling as innocently as she could."Joke away, Mr. George; there's nobody to defend ME." And GeorgeOsborne, as she walked away--and Amelia looked reprovingly at him--feltsome little manly compunction for having inflicted any unnecessaryunkindness upon this helpless creature. "My dearest Amelia," said he,"you are too good--too kind. You don't know the world. I do. Andyour little friend Miss Sharp must learn her station."

"Don't you think Jos will--"

"Upon my word, my dear, I don't know. He may, or may not. I'm not hismaster. I only know he is a very foolish vain fellow, and put my dearlittle girl into a very painful and awkward position last night. Mydearest diddle-diddle-darling!" He was off laughing again, and he didit so drolly that Emmy laughed too.

All that day Jos never came. But Amelia had no fear about this; forthe little schemer had actually sent away the page, Mr. Sambo'saide-de-camp, to Mr. Joseph's lodgings, to ask for some book he hadpromised, and how he was; and the reply through Jos's man, Mr. Brush,was, that his master was ill in bed, and had just had the doctor withhim. He must come to-morrow, she thought, but she never had thecourage to speak a word on the subject to Rebecca; nor did that youngwoman herself allude to it in any way during the whole evening afterthe night at Vauxhall.

The next day, however, as the two young ladies sate on the sofa,pretending to work, or to write letters, or to read novels, Sambo cameinto the room with his usual engaging grin, with a packet under hisarm, and a note on a tray. "Note from Mr. Jos, Miss," says Sambo.

How Amelia trembled as she opened it!

So it ran:

Dear Amelia,--I send you the "Orphan of the Forest." I was too ill tocome yesterday. I leave town to-day for Cheltenham. Pray excuse me,if you can, to the amiable Miss Sharp, for my conduct at Vauxhall, andentreat her to pardon and forget every word I may have uttered whenexcited by that fatal supper. As soon as I have recovered, for myhealth is very much shaken, I shall go to Scotland for some months, andam

Truly yours, Jos Sedley

It was the death-warrant. All was over. Amelia did not dare to lookat Rebecca's pale face and burning eyes, but she dropt the letter intoher friend's lap; and got up, and went upstairs to her room, and criedher little heart out.

Blenkinsop, the housekeeper, there sought her presently withconsolation, on whose shoulder Amelia wept confidentially, and relievedherself a good deal. "Don't take on, Miss. I didn't like to tell you.But none of us in the house have liked her except at fust. I sor herwith my own eyes reading your Ma's letters. Pinner says she's alwaysabout your trinket-box and drawers, and everybody's drawers, and she'ssure she's put your white ribbing into her box."

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

But this did not alter Mrs. Blenkinsop's opinion of Miss Sharp. "Idon't trust them governesses, Pinner," she remarked to the maid. "Theygive themselves the hairs and hupstarts of ladies, and their wages isno better than you nor me."

It now became clear to every soul in the house, except poor Amelia,that Rebecca should take her departure, and high and low (always withthe one exception) agreed that that event should take place as speedilyas possible. Our good child ransacked all her drawers, cupboards,reticules, and gimcrack boxes--passed in review all her gowns, fichus,tags, bobbins, laces, silk stockings, and fallals--selecting this thingand that and the other, to make a little heap for Rebecca. And goingto her Papa, that generous British merchant, who had promised to giveher as many guineas as she was years old--she begged the old gentlemanto give the money to dear Rebecca, who must want it, while she lackedfor nothing.

She even made George Osborne contribute, and nothing loth (for he wasas free-handed a young fellow as any in the army), he went to BondStreet, and bought the best hat and spenser that money could buy.

"That's George's present to you, Rebecca, dear," said Amelia, quiteproud of the bandbox conveying these gifts. "What a taste he has!There's nobody like him."

"Nobody," Rebecca answered. "How thankful I am to him!" She wasthinking in her heart, "It was George Osborne who prevented mymarriage."--And she loved George Osborne accordingly.

She made her preparations for departure with great equanimity; andaccepted all the kind little Amelia's presents, after just the properdegree of hesitation and reluctance. She vowed eternal gratitude toMrs. Sedley, of course; but did not intrude herself upon that good ladytoo much, who was embarrassed, and evidently wishing to avoid her. Shekissed Mr. Sedley's hand, when he presented her with the purse; andasked permission to consider him for the future as her kind, kindfriend and protector. Her behaviour was so affecting that he was goingto write her a cheque for twenty pounds more; but he restrained hisfeelings: the carriage was in waiting to take him to dinner, so hetripped away with a "God bless you, my dear, always come here when youcome to town, you know.--Drive to the Mansion House, James."

Finally came the parting with Miss Amelia, over which picture I intendto throw a veil. But after a scene in which one person was in earnestand the other a perfect performer--after the tenderest caresses, themost pathetic tears, the smelling-bottle, and some of the very bestfeelings of the heart, had been called into requisition--Rebecca andAmelia parted, the former vowing to love her friend for ever and everand ever.