Without knowing how, Captain William Dobbin found himself the greatpromoter, arranger, and manager of the match between George Osborne andAmelia. But for him it never would have taken place: he could not butconfess as much to himself, and smiled rather bitterly as he thoughtthat he of all men in the world should be the person upon whom the careof this marriage had fallen. But though indeed the conducting of thisnegotiation was about as painful a task as could be set to him, yetwhen he had a duty to perform, Captain Dobbin was accustomed to gothrough it without many words or much hesitation: and, having made uphis mind completely, that if Miss Sedley was balked of her husband shewould die of the disappointment, he was determined to use all his bestendeavours to keep her alive.

I forbear to enter into minute particulars of the interview betweenGeorge and Amelia, when the former was brought back to the feet (orshould we venture to say the arms?) of his young mistress by theintervention of his friend honest William. A much harder heart thanGeorge's would have melted at the sight of that sweet face so sadlyravaged by grief and despair, and at the simple tender accents in whichshe told her little broken-hearted story: but as she did not faint whenher mother, trembling, brought Osborne to her; and as she only gaverelief to her overcharged grief, by laying her head on her lover'sshoulder and there weeping for a while the most tender, copious, andrefreshing tears--old Mrs. Sedley, too greatly relieved, thought it wasbest to leave the young persons to themselves; and so quitted Emmycrying over George's hand, and kissing it humbly, as if he were hersupreme chief and master, and as if she were quite a guilty andunworthy person needing every favour and grace from him.

This prostration and sweet unrepining obedience exquisitely touched andflattered George Osborne. He saw a slave before him in that simpleyielding faithful creature, and his soul within him thrilled secretlysomehow at the knowledge of his power. He would be generous-minded,Sultan as he was, and raise up this kneeling Esther and make a queen ofher: besides, her sadness and beauty touched him as much as hersubmission, and so he cheered her, and raised her up and forgave her,so to speak. All her hopes and feelings, which were dying andwithering, this her sun having been removed from her, bloomed again andat once, its light being restored. You would scarcely have recognisedthe beaming little face upon Amelia's pillow that night as the one thatwas laid there the night before, so wan, so lifeless, so careless ofall round about. The honest Irish maid-servant, delighted with thechange, asked leave to kiss the face that had grown all of a sudden sorosy. Amelia put her arms round the girl's neck and kissed her withall her heart, like a child. She was little more. She had that nighta sweet refreshing sleep, like one--and what a spring of inexpressiblehappiness as she woke in the morning sunshine!

"He will be here again to-day," Amelia thought. "He is the greatestand best of men." And the fact is, that George thought he was one ofthe generousest creatures alive: and that he was making a tremendoussacrifice in marrying this young creature.

While she and Osborne were having their delightful tete-a-tete abovestairs, old Mrs. Sedley and Captain Dobbin were conversing below uponthe state of the affairs, and the chances and future arrangements ofthe young people. Mrs. Sedley having brought the two lovers togetherand left them embracing each other with all their might, like a truewoman, was of opinion that no power on earth would induce Mr. Sedley toconsent to the match between his daughter and the son of a man who hadso shamefully, wickedly, and monstrously treated him. And she told along story about happier days and their earlier splendours, whenOsborne lived in a very humble way in the New Road, and his wife wastoo glad to receive some of Jos's little baby things, with which Mrs.Sedley accommodated her at the birth of one of Osborne's own children.The fiendish ingratitude of that man, she was sure, had broken Mr. S.'sheart: and as for a marriage, he would never, never, never, neverconsent.

"They must run away together, Ma'am," Dobbin said, laughing, "andfollow the example of Captain Rawdon Crawley, and Miss Emmy's friendthe little governess." Was it possible? Well she never! Mrs. Sedleywas all excitement about this news. She wished that Blenkinsop werehere to hear it: Blenkinsop always mistrusted that Miss Sharp.-- Whatan escape Jos had had! and she described the already well-knownlove-passages between Rebecca and the Collector of Boggley Wollah.

It was not, however, Mr. Sedley's wrath which Dobbin feared, so much asthat of the other parent concerned, and he owned that he had a veryconsiderable doubt and anxiety respecting the behaviour of theblack-browed old tyrant of a Russia merchant in Russell Square. He hasforbidden the match peremptorily, Dobbin thought. He knew what a savagedetermined man Osborne was, and how he stuck by his word. "The onlychance George has of reconcilement," argued his friend, "is bydistinguishing himself in the coming campaign. If he dies they both gotogether. If he fails in distinction--what then? He has some moneyfrom his mother, I have heard enough to purchase his majority--or hemust sell out and go and dig in Canada, or rough it in a cottage in thecountry." With such a partner Dobbin thought he would not mindSiberia--and, strange to say, this absurd and utterly imprudent youngfellow never for a moment considered that the want of means to keep anice carriage and horses, and of an income which should enable itspossessors to entertain their friends genteelly, ought to operate asbars to the union of George and Miss Sedley.

It was these weighty considerations which made him think too that themarriage should take place as quickly as possible. Was he anxioushimself, I wonder, to have it over?--as people, when death hasoccurred, like to press forward the funeral, or when a parting isresolved upon, hasten it. It is certain that Mr. Dobbin, having takenthe matter in hand, was most extraordinarily eager in the conduct ofit. He urged on George the necessity of immediate action: he showedthe chances of reconciliation with his father, which a favourablemention of his name in the Gazette must bring about. If need were hewould go himself and brave both the fathers in the business. At allevents, he besought George to go through with it before the orderscame, which everybody expected, for the departure of the regiment fromEngland on foreign service.

Bent upon these hymeneal projects, and with the applause and consent ofMrs. Sedley, who did not care to break the matter personally to herhusband, Mr. Dobbin went to seek John Sedley at his house of call inthe City, the Tapioca Coffee-house, where, since his own offices wereshut up, and fate had overtaken him, the poor broken-down oldgentleman used to betake himself daily, and write letters and receivethem, and tie them up into mysterious bundles, several of which hecarried in the flaps of his coat. I don't know anything more dismalthan that business and bustle and mystery of a ruined man: thoseletters from the wealthy which he shows you: those worn greasydocuments promising support and offering condolence which he placeswistfully before you, and on which he builds his hopes of restorationand future fortune. My beloved reader has no doubt in the course of hisexperience been waylaid by many such a luckless companion. He takesyou into the corner; he has his bundle of papers out of his gaping coatpocket; and the tape off, and the string in his mouth, and thefavourite letters selected and laid before you; and who does not knowthe sad eager half-crazy look which he fixes on you with his hopelesseyes?

Changed into a man of this sort, Dobbin found the once florid, jovial,and prosperous John Sedley. His coat, that used to be so glossy andtrim, was white at the seams, and the buttons showed the copper. Hisface had fallen in, and was unshorn; his frill and neckcloth hung limpunder his bagging waistcoat. When he used to treat the boys in olddays at a coffee-house, he would shout and laugh louder than anybodythere, and have all the waiters skipping round him; it was quitepainful to see how humble and civil he was to John of the Tapioca, ablear-eyed old attendant in dingy stockings and cracked pumps, whosebusiness it was to serve glasses of wafers, and bumpers of ink inpewter, and slices of paper to the frequenters of this dreary house ofentertainment, where nothing else seemed to be consumed. As forWilliam Dobbin, whom he had tipped repeatedly in his youth, and who hadbeen the old gentleman's butt on a thousand occasions, old Sedley gavehis hand to him in a very hesitating humble manner now, and called him"Sir." A feeling of shame and remorse took possession of William Dobbinas the broken old man so received and addressed him, as if he himselfhad been somehow guilty of the misfortunes which had brought Sedley solow.

"I am very glad to see you, Captain Dobbin, sir," says he, after askulking look or two at his visitor (whose lanky figure and militaryappearance caused some excitement likewise to twinkle in the blear eyesof the waiter in the cracked dancing pumps, and awakened the old ladyin black, who dozed among the mouldy old coffee-cups in the bar). "Howis the worthy alderman, and my lady, your excellent mother, sir?" Helooked round at the waiter as he said, "My lady," as much as to say,"Hark ye, John, I have friends still, and persons of rank andreputation, too." "Are you come to do anything in my way, sir? Myyoung friends Dale and Spiggot do all my business for me now, until mynew offices are ready; for I'm only here temporarily, you know,Captain. What can we do for you, sir? Will you like to take anything?"

Dobbin, with a great deal of hesitation and stuttering, protested thathe was not in the least hungry or thirsty; that he had no business totransact; that he only came to ask if Mr. Sedley was well, and to shakehands with an old friend; and, he added, with a desperate perversion oftruth, "My mother is very well--that is, she's been very unwell, and isonly waiting for the first fine day to go out and call upon Mrs.Sedley. How is Mrs. Sedley, sir? I hope she's quite well." And herehe paused, reflecting on his own consummate hypocrisy; for the day wasas fine, and the sunshine as bright as it ever is in Coffin Court,where the Tapioca Coffee-house is situated: and Mr. Dobbin rememberedthat he had seen Mrs. Sedley himself only an hour before, having drivenOsborne down to Fulham in his gig, and left him there tete-a-tete withMiss Amelia.

"My wife will be very happy to see her ladyship," Sedley replied,pulling out his papers. "I've a very kind letter here from yourfather, sir, and beg my respectful compliments to him. Lady D. willfind us in rather a smaller house than we were accustomed to receiveour friends in; but it's snug, and the change of air does good to mydaughter, who was suffering in town rather--you remember little Emmy,sir?--yes, suffering a good deal." The old gentleman's eyes werewandering as he spoke, and he was thinking of something else, as hesate thrumming on his papers and fumbling at the worn red tape.

"You're a military man," he went on; "I ask you, Bill Dobbin, could anyman ever have speculated upon the return of that Corsican scoundrelfrom Elba? When the allied sovereigns were here last year, and we gave'em that dinner in the City, sir, and we saw the Temple of Concord, andthe fireworks, and the Chinese bridge in St. James's Park, could anysensible man suppose that peace wasn't really concluded, after we'dactually sung Te Deum for it, sir? I ask you, William, could I supposethat the Emperor of Austria was a damned traitor--a traitor, andnothing more? I don't mince words--a double-faced infernal traitor andschemer, who meant to have his son-in-law back all along. And I saythat the escape of Boney from Elba was a damned imposition and plot,sir, in which half the powers of Europe were concerned, to bring thefunds down, and to ruin this country. That's why I'm here, William.That's why my name's in the Gazette. Why, sir?--because I trusted theEmperor of Russia and the Prince Regent. Look here. Look at mypapers. Look what the funds were on the 1st of March--what the Frenchfives were when I bought for the count. And what they're at now.There was collusion, sir, or that villain never would have escaped.Where was the English Commissioner who allowed him to get away? Heought to be shot, sir--brought to a court-martial, and shot, by Jove."

"We're going to hunt Boney out, sir," Dobbin said, rather alarmed atthe fury of the old man, the veins of whose forehead began to swell,and who sate drumming his papers with his clenched fist. "We are goingto hunt him out, sir--the Duke's in Belgium already, and we expectmarching orders every day."

"Give him no quarter. Bring back the villain's head, sir. Shoot thecoward down, sir," Sedley roared. "I'd enlist myself, by--; but I'm abroken old man--ruined by that damned scoundrel--and by a parcel ofswindling thieves in this country whom I made, sir, and who are rollingin their carriages now," he added, with a break in his voice.

Dobbin was not a little affected by the sight of this once kind oldfriend, crazed almost with misfortune and raving with senile anger.Pity the fallen gentleman: you to whom money and fair repute are thechiefest good; and so, surely, are they in Vanity Fair.

"Yes," he continued, "there are some vipers that you warm, and theysting you afterwards. There are some beggars that you put onhorseback, and they're the first to ride you down. You know whom Imean, William Dobbin, my boy. I mean a purse-proud villain in RussellSquare, whom I knew without a shilling, and whom I pray and hope to seea beggar as he was when I befriended him."

"I have heard something of this, sir, from my friend George," Dobbinsaid, anxious to come to his point. "The quarrel between you and hisfather has cut him up a great deal, sir. Indeed, I'm the bearer of amessage from him."

"O, THAT'S your errand, is it?" cried the old man, jumping up. "What!perhaps he condoles with me, does he? Very kind of him, thestiff-backed prig, with his dandified airs and West End swagger. He'shankering about my house, is he still? If my son had the courage of aman, he'd shoot him. He's as big a villain as his father. I won'thave his name mentioned in my house. I curse the day that ever I lethim into it; and I'd rather see my daughter dead at my feet thanmarried to him."

"His father's harshness is not George's fault, sir. Your daughter'slove for him is as much your doing as his. Who are you, that you areto play with two young people's affections and break their hearts atyour will?"

"Recollect it's not his father that breaks the match off," old Sedleycried out. "It's I that forbid it. That family and mine are separatedfor ever. I'm fallen low, but not so low as that: no, no. And so youmay tell the whole race--son, and father and sisters, and all."

"It's my belief, sir, that you have not the power or the right toseparate those two," Dobbin answered in a low voice; "and that if youdon't give your daughter your consent it will be her duty to marrywithout it. There's no reason she should die or live miserably becauseyou are wrong-headed. To my thinking, she's just as much married as ifthe banns had been read in all the churches in London. And what betteranswer can there be to Osborne's charges against you, as charges thereare, than that his son claims to enter your family and marry yourdaughter?"

A light of something like satisfaction seemed to break over old Sedleyas this point was put to him: but he still persisted that with hisconsent the marriage between Amelia and George should never take place.

"We must do it without," Dobbin said, smiling, and told Mr. Sedley, ashe had told Mrs. Sedley in the day, before, the story of Rebecca'selopement with Captain Crawley. It evidently amused the old gentleman."You're terrible fellows, you Captains," said he, tying up his papers;and his face wore something like a smile upon it, to the astonishmentof the blear-eyed waiter who now entered, and had never seen such anexpression upon Sedley's countenance since he had used the dismalcoffee-house.

The idea of hitting his enemy Osborne such a blow soothed, perhaps, theold gentleman: and, their colloquy presently ending, he and Dobbinparted pretty good friends.

"My sisters say she has diamonds as big as pigeons' eggs," George said,laughing. "How they must set off her complexion! A perfectillumination it must be when her jewels are on her neck. Herjet-black hair is as curly as Sambo's. I dare say she wore a nose ringwhen she went to court; and with a plume of feathers in her top-knotshe would look a perfect Belle Sauvage."

George, in conversation with Amelia, was rallying the appearance of ayoung lady of whom his father and sisters had lately made theacquaintance, and who was an object of vast respect to the RussellSquare family. She was reported to have I don't know how manyplantations in the West Indies; a deal of money in the funds; and threestars to her name in the East India stockholders' list. She had amansion in Surrey, and a house in Portland Place. The name of the richWest India heiress had been mentioned with applause in the MorningPost. Mrs. Haggistoun, Colonel Haggistoun's widow, her relative,"chaperoned" her, and kept her house. She was just from school, whereshe had completed her education, and George and his sisters had met herat an evening party at old Hulker's house, Devonshire Place (Hulker,Bullock, and Co. were long the correspondents of her house in the WestIndies), and the girls had made the most cordial advances to her, whichthe heiress had received with great good humour. An orphan in herposition--with her money--so interesting! the Misses Osborne said.They were full of their new friend when they returned from the Hulkerball to Miss Wirt, their companion; they had made arrangements forcontinually meeting, and had the carriage and drove to see her the verynext day. Mrs. Haggistoun, Colonel Haggistoun's widow, a relation ofLord Binkie, and always talking of him, struck the dear unsophisticatedgirls as rather haughty, and too much inclined to talk about her greatrelations: but Rhoda was everything they could wish--the frankest,kindest, most agreeable creature--wanting a little polish, but sogood-natured. The girls Christian-named each other at once.

"You should have seen her dress for court, Emmy," Osborne cried,laughing. "She came to my sisters to show it off, before she waspresented in state by my Lady Binkie, the Haggistoun's kinswoman. She'srelated to every one, that Haggistoun. Her diamonds blazed out likeVauxhall on the night we were there. (Do you remember Vauxhall, Emmy,and Jos singing to his dearest diddle diddle darling?) Diamonds andmahogany, my dear! think what an advantageous contrast--and the whitefeathers in her hair--I mean in her wool. She had earrings likechandeliers; you might have lighted 'em up, by Jove--and a yellow satintrain that streeled after her like the tail of a cornet."

"How old is she?" asked Emmy, to whom George was rattling awayregarding this dark paragon, on the morning of their reunion--rattlingaway as no other man in the world surely could.

"Why the Black Princess, though she has only just left school, must betwo or three and twenty. And you should see the hand she writes! Mrs.Colonel Haggistoun usually writes her letters, but in a moment ofconfidence, she put pen to paper for my sisters; she spelt satinsatting, and Saint James's, Saint Jams."

"Why, surely it must be Miss Swartz, the parlour boarder," Emmy said,remembering that good-natured young mulatto girl, who had been sohysterically affected when Amelia left Miss Pinkerton's academy.

"The very name," George said. "Her father was a German Jew--aslave-owner they say--connected with the Cannibal Islands in some wayor other. He died last year, and Miss Pinkerton has finished hereducation. She can play two pieces on the piano; she knows threesongs; she can write when Mrs. Haggistoun is by to spell for her; andJane and Maria already have got to love her as a sister."

"I wish they would have loved me," said Emmy, wistfully. "They werealways very cold to me."

"My dear child, they would have loved you if you had had two hundredthousand pounds," George replied. "That is the way in which they havebeen brought up. Ours is a ready-money society. We live among bankersand City big-wigs, and be hanged to them, and every man, as he talks toyou, is jingling his guineas in his pocket. There is that jackass FredBullock is going to marry Maria--there's Goldmore, the East IndiaDirector, there's Dipley, in the tallow trade--OUR trade," George said,with an uneasy laugh and a blush. "Curse the whole pack ofmoney-grubbing vulgarians! I fall asleep at their great heavy dinners.I feel ashamed in my father's great stupid parties. I've beenaccustomed to live with gentlemen, and men of the world and fashion,Emmy, not with a parcel of turtle-fed tradesmen. Dear little woman,you are the only person of our set who ever looked, or thought, orspoke like a lady: and you do it because you're an angel and can't helpit. Don't remonstrate. You are the only lady. Didn't Miss Crawleyremark it, who has lived in the best company in Europe? And as forCrawley, of the Life Guards, hang it, he's a fine fellow: and I likehim for marrying the girl he had chosen."

Amelia admired Mr. Crawley very much, too, for this; and trustedRebecca would be happy with him, and hoped (with a laugh) Jos would beconsoled. And so the pair went on prattling, as in quite early days.Amelia's confidence being perfectly restored to her, though sheexpressed a great deal of pretty jealousy about Miss Swartz, andprofessed to be dreadfully frightened--like a hypocrite as she was--lestGeorge should forget her for the heiress and her money and herestates in Saint Kitt's. But the fact is, she was a great deal toohappy to have fears or doubts or misgivings of any sort: and havingGeorge at her side again, was not afraid of any heiress or beauty, orindeed of any sort of danger.

When Captain Dobbin came back in the afternoon to these people--whichhe did with a great deal of sympathy for them--it did his heart good tosee how Amelia had grown young again--how she laughed, and chirped, andsang familiar old songs at the piano, which were only interrupted bythe bell from without proclaiming Mr. Sedley's return from the City,before whom George received a signal to retreat.

Beyond the first smile of recognition--and even that was an hypocrisy,for she thought his arrival rather provoking--Miss Sedley did not oncenotice Dobbin during his visit. But he was content, so that he saw herhappy; and thankful to have been the means of making her so.