Love may be felt for any young lady endowed with such qualities as MissSwartz possessed; and a great dream of ambition entered into old Mr.Osborne's soul, which she was to realize. He encouraged, with theutmost enthusiasm and friendliness, his daughters' amiable attachmentto the young heiress, and protested that it gave him the sincerestpleasure as a father to see the love of his girls so well disposed.

"You won't find," he would say to Miss Rhoda, "that splendour and rankto which you are accustomed at the West End, my dear Miss, at ourhumble mansion in Russell Square. My daughters are plain,disinterested girls, but their hearts are in the right place, andthey've conceived an attachment for you which does them honour--I say,which does them honour. I'm a plain, simple, humble Britishmerchant--an honest one, as my respected friends Hulker and Bullockwill vouch, who were the correspondents of your late lamented father.You'll find us a united, simple, happy, and I think I may sayrespected, family--a plain table, a plain people, but a warm welcome,my dear Miss Rhoda--Rhoda, let me say, for my heart warms to you, itdoes really. I'm a frank man, and I like you. A glass of Champagne!Hicks, Champagne to Miss Swartz."

There is little doubt that old Osborne believed all he said, and thatthe girls were quite earnest in their protestations of affection forMiss Swartz. People in Vanity Fair fasten on to rich folks quitenaturally. If the simplest people are disposed to look not a littlekindly on great Prosperity (for I defy any member of the British publicto say that the notion of Wealth has not something awful and pleasingto him; and you, if you are told that the man next you at dinner hasgot half a million, not to look at him with a certain interest)--if thesimple look benevolently on money, how much more do your old worldlingsregard it! Their affections rush out to meet and welcome money. Theirkind sentiments awaken spontaneously towards the interesting possessorsof it. I know some respectable people who don't consider themselves atliberty to indulge in friendship for any individual who has not acertain competency, or place in society. They give a loose to theirfeelings on proper occasions. And the proof is, that the major part ofthe Osborne family, who had not, in fifteen years, been able to get upa hearty regard for Amelia Sedley, became as fond of Miss Swartz in thecourse of a single evening as the most romantic advocate of friendshipat first sight could desire.

What a match for George she'd be (the sisters and Miss Wirt agreed),and how much better than that insignificant little Amelia! Such adashing young fellow as he is, with his good looks, rank, andaccomplishments, would be the very husband for her. Visions of ballsin Portland Place, presentations at Court, and introductions to halfthe peerage, filled the minds of the young ladies; who talked ofnothing but George and his grand acquaintances to their beloved newfriend.

Old Osborne thought she would be a great match, too, for his son. Heshould leave the army; he should go into Parliament; he should cut afigure in the fashion and in the state. His blood boiled with honestBritish exultation, as he saw the name of Osborne ennobled in theperson of his son, and thought that he might be the progenitor of aglorious line of baronets. He worked in the City and on 'Change, untilhe knew everything relating to the fortune of the heiress, how hermoney was placed, and where her estates lay. Young Fred Bullock, oneof his chief informants, would have liked to make a bid for her himself(it was so the young banker expressed it), only he was booked to MariaOsborne. But not being able to secure her as a wife, the disinterestedFred quite approved of her as a sister-in-law. "Let George cut indirectly and win her," was his advice. "Strike while the iron's hot,you know--while she's fresh to the town: in a few weeks some d----fellow from the West End will come in with a title and a rottenrent-roll and cut all us City men out, as Lord Fitzrufus did last yearwith Miss Grogram, who was actually engaged to Podder, of Podder &Brown's. The sooner it is done the better, Mr. Osborne; them's mysentiments," the wag said; though, when Osborne had left the bankparlour, Mr. Bullock remembered Amelia, and what a pretty girl she was,and how attached to George Osborne; and he gave up at least ten secondsof his valuable time to regretting the misfortune which had befallenthat unlucky young woman.

While thus George Osborne's good feelings, and his good friend andgenius, Dobbin, were carrying back the truant to Amelia's feet,George's parent and sisters were arranging this splendid match for him,which they never dreamed he would resist.

When the elder Osborne gave what he called "a hint," there was nopossibility for the most obtuse to mistake his meaning. He calledkicking a footman downstairs a hint to the latter to leave his service.With his usual frankness and delicacy he told Mrs. Haggistoun that hewould give her a cheque for five thousand pounds on the day his son wasmarried to her ward; and called that proposal a hint, and considered ita very dexterous piece of diplomacy. He gave George finally suchanother hint regarding the heiress; and ordered him to marry her out ofhand, as he would have ordered his butler to draw a cork, or his clerkto write a letter.

This imperative hint disturbed George a good deal. He was in the veryfirst enthusiasm and delight of his second courtship of Amelia, whichwas inexpressibly sweet to him. The contrast of her manners andappearance with those of the heiress, made the idea of a union with thelatter appear doubly ludicrous and odious. Carriages and opera-boxes,thought he; fancy being seen in them by the side of such a mahoganycharmer as that! Add to all that the junior Osborne was quite asobstinate as the senior: when he wanted a thing, quite as firm in hisresolution to get it; and quite as violent when angered, as his fatherin his most stern moments.

On the first day when his father formally gave him the hint that he wasto place his affections at Miss Swartz's feet, George temporised withthe old gentleman. "You should have thought of the matter sooner,sir," he said. "It can't be done now, when we're expecting every day togo on foreign service. Wait till my return, if I do return"; and thenhe represented, that the time when the regiment was daily expecting toquit England, was exceedingly ill-chosen: that the few days or weeksduring which they were still to remain at home, must be devoted tobusiness and not to love-making: time enough for that when he came homewith his majority; "for, I promise you," said he, with a satisfied air,"that one way or other you shall read the name of George Osborne in theGazette."

The father's reply to this was founded upon the information which hehad got in the City: that the West End chaps would infallibly catchhold of the heiress if any delay took place: that if he didn't marryMiss S., he might at least have an engagement in writing, to come intoeffect when he returned to England; and that a man who could get tenthousand a year by staying at home, was a fool to risk his life abroad.

"So that you would have me shown up as a coward, sir, and our namedishonoured for the sake of Miss Swartz's money," George interposed.

This remark staggered the old gentleman; but as he had to reply to it,and as his mind was nevertheless made up, he said, "You will dine hereto-morrow, sir, and every day Miss Swartz comes, you will be here topay your respects to her. If you want for money, call upon Mr.Chopper." Thus a new obstacle was in George's way, to interfere withhis plans regarding Amelia; and about which he and Dobbin had more thanone confidential consultation. His friend's opinion respecting theline of conduct which he ought to pursue, we know already. And as forOsborne, when he was once bent on a thing, a fresh obstacle or two onlyrendered him the more resolute.

The dark object of the conspiracy into which the chiefs of the Osbornefamily had entered, was quite ignorant of all their plans regarding her(which, strange to say, her friend and chaperon did not divulge), and,taking all the young ladies' flattery for genuine sentiment, and being,as we have before had occasion to show, of a very warm and impetuousnature, responded to their affection with quite a tropical ardour. Andif the truth may be told, I dare say that she too had some selfishattraction in the Russell Square house; and in a word, thought GeorgeOsborne a very nice young man. His whiskers had made an impression uponher, on the very first night she beheld them at the ball at Messrs.Hulkers; and, as we know, she was not the first woman who had beencharmed by them. George had an air at once swaggering and melancholy,languid and fierce. He looked like a man who had passions, secrets,and private harrowing griefs and adventures. His voice was rich anddeep. He would say it was a warm evening, or ask his partner to takean ice, with a tone as sad and confidential as if he were breaking hermother's death to her, or preluding a declaration of love. He trampledover all the young bucks of his father's circle, and was the hero amongthose third-rate men. Some few sneered at him and hated him. Some,like Dobbin, fanatically admired him. And his whiskers had begun to dotheir work, and to curl themselves round the affections of Miss Swartz.

Whenever there was a chance of meeting him in Russell Square, thatsimple and good-natured young woman was quite in a flurry to see herdear Misses Osborne. She went to great expenses in new gowns, andbracelets, and bonnets, and in prodigious feathers. She adorned herperson with her utmost skill to please the Conqueror, and exhibited allher simple accomplishments to win his favour. The girls would ask her,with the greatest gravity, for a little music, and she would sing herthree songs and play her two little pieces as often as ever they asked,and with an always increasing pleasure to herself. During thesedelectable entertainments, Miss Wirt and the chaperon sate by, andconned over the peerage, and talked about the nobility.

The day after George had his hint from his father, and a short timebefore the hour of dinner, he was lolling upon a sofa in thedrawing-room in a very becoming and perfectly natural attitude ofmelancholy. He had been, at his father's request, to Mr. Chopper inthe City (the old-gentleman, though he gave great sums to his son,would never specify any fixed allowance for him, and rewarded him onlyas he was in the humour). He had then been to pass three hours withAmelia, his dear little Amelia, at Fulham; and he came home to find hissisters spread in starched muslin in the drawing-room, the dowagerscackling in the background, and honest Swartz in her favouriteamber-coloured satin, with turquoise bracelets, countless rings,flowers, feathers, and all sorts of tags and gimcracks, about aselegantly decorated as a she chimney-sweep on May-day.

The girls, after vain attempts to engage him in conversation, talkedabout fashions and the last drawing-room until he was perfectly sick oftheir chatter. He contrasted their behaviour with little Emmy's--theirshrill voices with her tender ringing tones; their attitudes and theirelbows and their starch, with her humble soft movements and modestgraces. Poor Swartz was seated in a place where Emmy had beenaccustomed to sit. Her bejewelled hands lay sprawling in her ambersatin lap. Her tags and ear-rings twinkled, and her big eyes rolledabout. She was doing nothing with perfect contentment, and thinkingherself charming. Anything so becoming as the satin the sisters hadnever seen.

"Dammy," George said to a confidential friend, "she looked like a Chinadoll, which has nothing to do all day but to grin and wag its head. ByJove, Will, it was all I I could do to prevent myself from throwing thesofa-cushion at her." He restrained that exhibition of sentiment,however.

The sisters began to play the Battle of Prague. "Stop that d----thing," George howled out in a fury from the sofa. "It makes me mad.You play us something, Miss Swartz, do. Sing something, anything butthe Battle of Prague."

"Shall I sing 'Blue Eyed Mary' or the air from the Cabinet?" MissSwartz asked.

"That sweet thing from the Cabinet," the sisters said.

"We've had that," replied the misanthrope on the sofa

"I can sing 'Fluvy du Tajy,'" Swartz said, in a meek voice, "if I hadthe words." It was the last of the worthy young woman's collection.

"O, 'Fleuve du Tage,'" Miss Maria cried; "we have the song," and wentoff to fetch the book in which it was.

Now it happened that this song, then in the height of the fashion, hadbeen given to the young ladies by a young friend of theirs, whose namewas on the title, and Miss Swartz, having concluded the ditty withGeorge's applause (for he remembered that it was a favourite ofAmelia's), was hoping for an encore perhaps, and fiddling with theleaves of the music, when her eye fell upon the title, and she saw"Amelia Sedley" written in the comer.

"Lor!" cried Miss Swartz, spinning swiftly round on the music-stool,"is it my Amelia? Amelia that was at Miss P.'s at Hammersmith? I knowit is. It's her, and-- Tell me about her--where is she?"

"Don't mention her," Miss Maria Osborne said hastily. "Her family hasdisgraced itself. Her father cheated Papa, and as for her, she isnever to be mentioned HERE." This was Miss Maria's return for George'srudeness about the Battle of Prague.

"Are you a friend of Amelia's?" George said, bouncing up. "God blessyou for it, Miss Swartz. Don't believe what the girls say. SHE'S notto blame at any rate. She's the best--"

"You know you're not to speak about her, George," cried Jane. "Papaforbids it."

"Who's to prevent me?" George cried out. "I will speak of her. I sayshe's the best, the kindest, the gentlest, the sweetest girl inEngland; and that, bankrupt or no, my sisters are not fit to holdcandles to her. If you like her, go and see her, Miss Swartz; shewants friends now; and I say, God bless everybody who befriends her.Anybody who speaks kindly of her is my friend; anybody who speaksagainst her is my enemy. Thank you, Miss Swartz"; and he went up andwrung her hand.

"George! George!" one of the sisters cried imploringly.

"I say," George said fiercely, "I thank everybody who loves AmeliaSed--" He stopped. Old Osborne was in the room with a face livid withrage, and eyes like hot coals.

Though George had stopped in his sentence, yet, his blood being up, hewas not to be cowed by all the generations of Osborne; rallyinginstantly, he replied to the bullying look of his father, with anotherso indicative of resolution and defiance that the elder man quailed inhis turn, and looked away. He felt that the tussle was coming. "Mrs.Haggistoun, let me take you down to dinner," he said. "Give your arm toMiss Swartz, George," and they marched.

"Miss Swartz, I love Amelia, and we've been engaged almost all ourlives," Osborne said to his partner; and during all the dinner, Georgerattled on with a volubility which surprised himself, and made hisfather doubly nervous for the fight which was to take place as soon asthe ladies were gone.

The difference between the pair was, that while the father was violentand a bully, the son had thrice the nerve and courage of the parent,and could not merely make an attack, but resist it; and finding thatthe moment was now come when the contest between him and his father wasto be decided, he took his dinner with perfect coolness and appetitebefore the engagement began. Old Osborne, on the contrary, wasnervous, and drank much. He floundered in his conversation with theladies, his neighbours: George's coolness only rendering him moreangry. It made him half mad to see the calm way in which George,flapping his napkin, and with a swaggering bow, opened the door for theladies to leave the room; and filling himself a glass of wine, smackedit, and looked his father full in the face, as if to say, "Gentlemen ofthe Guard, fire first." The old man also took a supply of ammunition,but his decanter clinked against the glass as he tried to fill it.

After giving a great heave, and with a purple choking face, he thenbegan. "How dare you, sir, mention that person's name before MissSwartz to-day, in my drawing-room? I ask you, sir, how dare you do it?"

"Stop, sir," says George, "don't say dare, sir. Dare isn't a word tobe used to a Captain in the British Army."

"I shall say what I like to my son, sir. I can cut him off with ashilling if I like. I can make him a beggar if I like. I WILL say whatI like," the elder said.

"I'm a gentleman though I AM your son, sir," George answered haughtily."Any communications which you have to make to me, or any orders whichyou may please to give, I beg may be couched in that kind of languagewhich I am accustomed to hear."

Whenever the lad assumed his haughty manner, it always created eithergreat awe or great irritation in the parent. Old Osborne stood insecret terror of his son as a better gentleman than himself; andperhaps my readers may have remarked in their experience of this VanityFair of ours, that there is no character which a low-minded man so muchmistrusts as that of a gentleman.

"My father didn't give me the education you have had, nor theadvantages you have had, nor the money you have had. If I had kept thecompany SOME FOLKS have had through MY MEANS, perhaps my son wouldn'thave any reason to brag, sir, of his SUPERIORITY and WEST END AIRS(these words were uttered in the elder Osborne's most sarcastic tones).But it wasn't considered the part of a gentleman, in MY time, for a manto insult his father. If I'd done any such thing, mine would havekicked me downstairs, sir."

"I never insulted you, sir. I said I begged you to remember your sonwas a gentleman as well as yourself. I know very well that you give meplenty of money," said George (fingering a bundle of notes which he hadgot in the morning from Mr. Chopper). "You tell it me often enough,sir. There's no fear of my forgetting it."

"I wish you'd remember other things as well, sir," the sire answered."I wish you'd remember that in this house--so long as you choose toHONOUR it with your COMPANY, Captain--I'm the master, and that name,and that that--that you--that I say--"

"That what, sir?" George asked, with scarcely a sneer, filling anotherglass of claret.

"----!" burst out his father with a screaming oath--"that the name ofthose Sedleys never be mentioned here, sir--not one of the whole damnedlot of 'em, sir."

"It wasn't I, sir, that introduced Miss Sedley's name. It was mysisters who spoke ill of her to Miss Swartz; and by Jove I'll defendher wherever I go. Nobody shall speak lightly of that name in mypresence. Our family has done her quite enough injury already, Ithink, and may leave off reviling her now she's down. I'll shoot anyman but you who says a word against her."

"Go on, sir, go on," the old gentleman said, his eyes starting out ofhis head.

"Go on about what, sir? about the way in which we've treated that angelof a girl? Who told me to love her? It was your doing. I might havechosen elsewhere, and looked higher, perhaps, than your society: but Iobeyed you. And now that her heart's mine you give me orders to flingit away, and punish her, kill her perhaps--for the faults of otherpeople. It's a shame, by Heavens," said George, working himself upinto passion and enthusiasm as he proceeded, "to play at fast and loosewith a young girl's affections--and with such an angel as that--one sosuperior to the people amongst whom she lived, that she might haveexcited envy, only she was so good and gentle, that it's a wonderanybody dared to hate her. If I desert her, sir, do you suppose sheforgets me?"

"I ain't going to have any of this dam sentimental nonsense and humbughere, sir," the father cried out. "There shall be no beggar-marriagesin my family. If you choose to fling away eight thousand a year, whichyou may have for the asking, you may do it: but by Jove you take yourpack and walk out of this house, sir. Will you do as I tell you, oncefor all, sir, or will you not?"

"Marry that mulatto woman?" George said, pulling up his shirt-collars."I don't like the colour, sir. Ask the black that sweeps oppositeFleet Market, sir. I'm not going to marry a Hottentot Venus."

Mr. Osborne pulled frantically at the cord by which he was accustomedto summon the butler when he wanted wine--and almost black in the face,ordered that functionary to call a coach for Captain Osborne.

"I've done it," said George, coming into the Slaughters' an hourafterwards, looking very pale.

"What, my boy?" says Dobbin.

George told what had passed between his father and himself.

"I'll marry her to-morrow," he said with an oath. "I love her moreevery day, Dobbin."