Enemies the most obstinate and courageous can't hold out againststarvation; so the elder Osborne felt himself pretty easy about hisadversary in the encounter we have just described; and as soon asGeorge's supplies fell short, confidently expected his unconditionalsubmission. It was unlucky, to be sure, that the lad should havesecured a stock of provisions on the very day when the first encountertook place; but this relief was only temporary, old Osborne thought,and would but delay George's surrender. No communication passedbetween father and son for some days. The former was sulky at thissilence, but not disquieted; for, as he said, he knew where he couldput the screw upon George, and only waited the result of thatoperation. He told the sisters the upshot of the dispute between them,but ordered them to take no notice of the matter, and welcome George onhis return as if nothing had happened. His cover was laid as usualevery day, and perhaps the old gentleman rather anxiously expected him;but he never came. Some one inquired at the Slaughters' regarding him,where it was said that he and his friend Captain Dobbin had left town.

One gusty, raw day at the end of April--the rain whipping the pavementof that ancient street where the old Slaughters' Coffee-house was oncesituated--George Osborne came into the coffee-room, looking veryhaggard and pale; although dressed rather smartly in a blue coat andbrass buttons, and a neat buff waistcoat of the fashion of those days.Here was his friend Captain Dobbin, in blue and brass too, havingabandoned the military frock and French-grey trousers, which were theusual coverings of his lanky person.

Dobbin had been in the coffee-room for an hour or more. He had triedall the papers, but could not read them. He had looked at the clockmany scores of times; and at the street, where the rain was patteringdown, and the people as they clinked by in pattens, left longreflections on the shining stone: he tattooed at the table: he bit hisnails most completely, and nearly to the quick (he was accustomed toornament his great big hands in this way): he balanced the tea-spoondexterously on the milk jug: upset it, &c., &c.; and in fact showedthose signs of disquietude, and practised those desperate attempts atamusement, which men are accustomed to employ when very anxious, andexpectant, and perturbed in mind.

Some of his comrades, gentlemen who used the room, joked him about thesplendour of his costume and his agitation of manner. One asked him ifhe was going to be married? Dobbin laughed, and said he would send hisacquaintance (Major Wagstaff of the Engineers) a piece of cake whenthat event took place. At length Captain Osborne made his appearance,very smartly dressed, but very pale and agitated as we have said. Hewiped his pale face with a large yellow bandanna pocket-handkerchiefthat was prodigiously scented. He shook hands with Dobbin, looked atthe clock, and told John, the waiter, to bring him some curacao. Ofthis cordial he swallowed off a couple of glasses with nervouseagerness. His friend asked with some interest about his health.

"Couldn't get a wink of sleep till daylight, Dob," said he. "Infernalheadache and fever. Got up at nine, and went down to the Hummums for abath. I say, Dob, I feel just as I did on the morning I went out withRocket at Quebec."

"So do I," William responded. "I was a deuced deal more nervous thanyou were that morning. You made a famous breakfast, I remember. Eatsomething now."

"You're a good old fellow, Will. I'll drink your health, old boy, andfarewell to--"

"No, no; two glasses are enough," Dobbin interrupted him. "Here, takeaway the liqueurs, John. Have some cayenne-pepper with your fowl.Make haste though, for it is time we were there."

It was about half an hour from twelve when this brief meeting andcolloquy took place between the two captains. A coach, into whichCaptain Osborne's servant put his master's desk and dressing-case, hadbeen in waiting for some time; and into this the two gentlemen hurriedunder an umbrella, and the valet mounted on the box, cursing the rainand the dampness of the coachman who was steaming beside him. "Weshall find a better trap than this at the church-door," says he;"that's a comfort." And the carriage drove on, taking the road downPiccadilly, where Apsley House and St. George's Hospital wore redjackets still; where there were oil-lamps; where Achilles was not yetborn; nor the Pimlico arch raised; nor the hideous equestrian monsterwhich pervades it and the neighbourhood; and so they drove down byBrompton to a certain chapel near the Fulham Road there.

A chariot was in waiting with four horses; likewise a coach of the kindcalled glass coaches. Only a very few idlers were collected on accountof the dismal rain.

"Hang it!" said George, "I said only a pair."

"My master would have four," said Mr. Joseph Sedley's servant, who wasin waiting; and he and Mr. Osborne's man agreed as they followed Georgeand William into the church, that it was a "reg'lar shabby turn hout;and with scarce so much as a breakfast or a wedding faviour."

"Here you are," said our old friend, Jos Sedley, coming forward."You're five minutes late, George, my boy. What a day, eh? Demmy, it'slike the commencement of the rainy season in Bengal. But you'll findmy carriage is watertight. Come along, my mother and Emmy are in thevestry."

Jos Sedley was splendid. He was fatter than ever. His shirt collarswere higher; his face was redder; his shirt-frill flaunted gorgeouslyout of his variegated waistcoat. Varnished boots were not invented asyet; but the Hessians on his beautiful legs shone so, that they musthave been the identical pair in which the gentleman in the old pictureused to shave himself; and on his light green coat there bloomed a finewedding favour, like a great white spreading magnolia.

In a word, George had thrown the great cast. He was going to bemarried. Hence his pallor and nervousness--his sleepless night andagitation in the morning. I have heard people who have gone throughthe same thing own to the same emotion. After three or fourceremonies, you get accustomed to it, no doubt; but the first dip,everybody allows, is awful.

The bride was dressed in a brown silk pelisse (as Captain Dobbin hassince informed me), and wore a straw bonnet with a pink ribbon; overthe bonnet she had a veil of white Chantilly lace, a gift from Mr.Joseph Sedley, her brother. Captain Dobbin himself had asked leave topresent her with a gold chain and watch, which she sported on thisoccasion; and her mother gave her her diamond brooch--almost the onlytrinket which was left to the old lady. As the service went on, Mrs.Sedley sat and whimpered a great deal in a pew, consoled by the Irishmaid-servant and Mrs. Clapp from the lodgings. Old Sedley would not bepresent. Jos acted for his father, giving away the bride, whilstCaptain Dobbin stepped up as groomsman to his friend George.

There was nobody in the church besides the officiating persons and thesmall marriage party and their attendants. The two valets sat aloofsuperciliously. The rain came rattling down on the windows. In theintervals of the service you heard it, and the sobbing of old Mrs.Sedley in the pew. The parson's tones echoed sadly through the emptywalls. Osborne's "I will" was sounded in very deep bass. Emmy'sresponse came fluttering up to her lips from her heart, but wasscarcely heard by anybody except Captain Dobbin.

When the service was completed, Jos Sedley came forward and kissed hissister, the bride, for the first time for many months--George's look ofgloom had gone, and he seemed quite proud and radiant. "It's your turn,William," says he, putting his hand fondly upon Dobbin's shoulder; andDobbin went up and touched Amelia on the cheek.

Then they went into the vestry and signed the register. "God bless you,Old Dobbin," George said, grasping him by the hand, with something verylike moisture glistening in his eyes. William replied only by noddinghis head. His heart was too full to say much.

"Write directly, and come down as soon as you can, you know," Osbornesaid. After Mrs. Sedley had taken an hysterical adieu of her daughter,the pair went off to the carriage. "Get out of the way, you littledevils," George cried to a small crowd of damp urchins, that werehanging about the chapel-door. The rain drove into the bride andbridegroom's faces as they passed to the chariot. The postilions'favours draggled on their dripping jackets. The few children made adismal cheer, as the carriage, splashing mud, drove away.

William Dobbin stood in the church-porch, looking at it, a queerfigure. The small crew of spectators jeered him. He was not thinkingabout them or their laughter.

"Come home and have some tiffin, Dobbin," a voice cried behind him; asa pudgy hand was laid on his shoulder, and the honest fellow's reveriewas interrupted. But the Captain had no heart to go a-feasting withJos Sedley. He put the weeping old lady and her attendants into thecarriage along with Jos, and left them without any farther wordspassing. This carriage, too, drove away, and the urchins gave anothersarcastical cheer.

"Here, you little beggars," Dobbin said, giving some sixpences amongstthem, and then went off by himself through the rain. It was all over.They were married, and happy, he prayed God. Never since he was a boyhad he felt so miserable and so lonely. He longed with a heart-sickyearning for the first few days to be over, that he might see her again.

Some ten days after the above ceremony, three young men of ouracquaintance were enjoying that beautiful prospect of bow windows onthe one side and blue sea on the other, which Brighton affords to thetraveller. Sometimes it is towards the ocean--smiling with countlessdimples, speckled with white sails, with a hundred bathing-machineskissing the skirt of his blue garment--that the Londoner looksenraptured: sometimes, on the contrary, a lover of human nature ratherthan of prospects of any kind, it is towards the bow windows that heturns, and that swarm of human life which they exhibit. From one issuethe notes of a piano, which a young lady in ringlets practises sixhours daily, to the delight of the fellow-lodgers: at another, lovelyPolly, the nurse-maid, may be seen dandling Master Omnium in her arms:whilst Jacob, his papa, is beheld eating prawns, and devouring theTimes for breakfast, at the window below. Yonder are the Misses Leery,who are looking out for the young officers of the Heavies, who arepretty sure to be pacing the cliff; or again it is a City man, with anautical turn, and a telescope, the size of a six-pounder, who has hisinstrument pointed seawards, so as to command every pleasure-boat,herring-boat, or bathing-machine that comes to, or quits, the shore,&c., &c. But have we any leisure for a description of Brighton?--forBrighton, a clean Naples with genteel lazzaroni--for Brighton, thatalways looks brisk, gay, and gaudy, like a harlequin's jacket--forBrighton, which used to be seven hours distant from London at the timeof our story; which is now only a hundred minutes off; and which mayapproach who knows how much nearer, unless Joinville comes and untimelybombards it?

"What a monstrous fine girl that is in the lodgings over themilliner's," one of these three promenaders remarked to the other;"Gad, Crawley, did you see what a wink she gave me as I passed?"

"Don't break her heart, Jos, you rascal," said another. "Don't triflewith her affections, you Don Juan!"

"Get away," said Jos Sedley, quite pleased, and leering up at themaid-servant in question with a most killing ogle. Jos was even moresplendid at Brighton than he had been at his sister's marriage. He hadbrilliant under-waistcoats, any one of which would have set up amoderate buck. He sported a military frock-coat, ornamented with frogs,knobs, black buttons, and meandering embroidery. He had affected amilitary appearance and habits of late; and he walked with his twofriends, who were of that profession, clinking his boot-spurs,swaggering prodigiously, and shooting death-glances at all the servantgirls who were worthy to be slain.

"What shall we do, boys, till the ladies return?" the buck asked. Theladies were out to Rottingdean in his carriage on a drive.

"Let's have a game at billiards," one of his friends said--the tallone, with lacquered mustachios.

"No, dammy; no, Captain," Jos replied, rather alarmed. "No billiardsto-day, Crawley, my boy; yesterday was enough."

"You play very well," said Crawley, laughing. "Don't he, Osborne? Howwell he made that-five stroke, eh?"

"Famous," Osborne said. "Jos is a devil of a fellow at billiards, andat everything else, too. I wish there were any tiger-hunting abouthere! we might go and kill a few before dinner. (There goes a finegirl! what an ankle, eh, Jos?) Tell us that story about the tiger-hunt,and the way you did for him in the jungle--it's a wonderful story that,Crawley." Here George Osborne gave a yawn. "It's rather slow work,"said he, "down here; what shall we do?"

"Shall we go and look at some horses that Snaffler's just brought fromLewes fair?" Crawley said.

"Suppose we go and have some jellies at Dutton's," and the rogue Jos,willing to kill two birds with one stone. "Devilish fine gal atDutton's."

"Suppose we go and see the Lightning come in, it's just about time?"George said. This advice prevailing over the stables and the jelly,they turned towards the coach-office to witness the Lightning's arrival.

As they passed, they met the carriage--Jos Sedley's open carriage, withits magnificent armorial bearings--that splendid conveyance in which heused to drive, about at Cheltonham, majestic and solitary, with hisarms folded, and his hat cocked; or, more happy, with ladies by hisside.

Two were in the carriage now: one a little person, with light hair, anddressed in the height of the fashion; the other in a brown silkpelisse, and a straw bonnet with pink ribbons, with a rosy, round,happy face, that did you good to behold. She checked the carriage asit neared the three gentlemen, after which exercise of authority shelooked rather nervous, and then began to blush most absurdly. "We havehad a delightful drive, George," she said, "and--and we're so glad tocome back; and, Joseph, don't let him be late."

"Don't be leading our husbands into mischief, Mr. Sedley, you wicked,wicked man you," Rebecca said, shaking at Jos a pretty little fingercovered with the neatest French kid glove. "No billiards, no smoking,no naughtiness!"

"My dear Mrs. Crawley--Ah now! upon my honour!" was all Jos couldejaculate by way of reply; but he managed to fall into a tolerableattitude, with his head lying on his shoulder, grinning upwards at hisvictim, with one hand at his back, which he supported on his cane, andthe other hand (the one with the diamond ring) fumbling in hisshirt-frill and among his under-waistcoats. As the carriage drove offhe kissed the diamond hand to the fair ladies within. He wished allCheltenham, all Chowringhee, all Calcutta, could see him in thatposition, waving his hand to such a beauty, and in company with such afamous buck as Rawdon Crawley of the Guards.

Our young bride and bridegroom had chosen Brighton as the place wherethey would pass the first few days after their marriage; and havingengaged apartments at the Ship Inn, enjoyed themselves there in greatcomfort and quietude, until Jos presently joined them. Nor was he theonly companion they found there. As they were coming into the hotelfrom a sea-side walk one afternoon, on whom should they light butRebecca and her husband. The recognition was immediate. Rebecca flewinto the arms of her dearest friend. Crawley and Osborne shook handstogether cordially enough: and Becky, in the course of a very fewhours, found means to make the latter forget that little unpleasantpassage of words which had happened between them. "Do you remember thelast time we met at Miss Crawley's, when I was so rude to you, dearCaptain Osborne? I thought you seemed careless about dear Amelia. Itwas that made me angry: and so pert: and so unkind: and so ungrateful.Do forgive me!" Rebecca said, and she held out her hand with so frankand winning a grace, that Osborne could not but take it. By humbly andfrankly acknowledging yourself to be in the wrong, there is no knowing,my son, what good you may do. I knew once a gentleman and very worthypractitioner in Vanity Fair, who used to do little wrongs to hisneighbours on purpose, and in order to apologise for them in an openand manly way afterwards--and what ensued? My friend Crocky Doyle wasliked everywhere, and deemed to be rather impetuous--but the honestestfellow. Becky's humility passed for sincerity with George Osborne.

These two young couples had plenty of tales to relate to each other.The marriages of either were discussed; and their prospects in lifecanvassed with the greatest frankness and interest on both sides.George's marriage was to be made known to his father by his friendCaptain Dobbin; and young Osborne trembled rather for the result ofthat communication. Miss Crawley, on whom all Rawdon's hopes depended,still held out. Unable to make an entry into her house in Park Lane,her affectionate nephew and niece had followed her to Brighton, wherethey had emissaries continually planted at her door.

"I wish you could see some of Rawdon's friends who are always about ourdoor," Rebecca said, laughing. "Did you ever see a dun, my dear; or abailiff and his man? Two of the abominable wretches watched all lastweek at the greengrocer's opposite, and we could not get away untilSunday. If Aunty does not relent, what shall we do?"

Rawdon, with roars of laughter, related a dozen amusing anecdotes ofhis duns, and Rebecca's adroit treatment of them. He vowed with agreat oath that there was no woman in Europe who could talk a creditorover as she could. Almost immediately after their marriage, herpractice had begun, and her husband found the immense value of such awife. They had credit in plenty, but they had bills also in abundance,and laboured under a scarcity of ready money. Did thesedebt-difficulties affect Rawdon's good spirits? No. Everybody inVanity Fair must have remarked how well those live who are comfortablyand thoroughly in debt: how they deny themselves nothing; how jolly andeasy they are in their minds. Rawdon and his wife had the very bestapartments at the inn at Brighton; the landlord, as he brought in thefirst dish, bowed before them as to his greatest customers: and Rawdonabused the dinners and wine with an audacity which no grandee in theland could surpass. Long custom, a manly appearance, faultless bootsand clothes, and a happy fierceness of manner, will often help a man asmuch as a great balance at the banker's.

The two wedding parties met constantly in each other's apartments.After two or three nights the gentlemen of an evening had a littlepiquet, as their wives sate and chatted apart. This pastime, and thearrival of Jos Sedley, who made his appearance in his grand opencarriage, and who played a few games at billiards with Captain Crawley,replenished Rawdon's purse somewhat, and gave him the benefit of thatready money for which the greatest spirits are sometimes at astand-still.

So the three gentlemen walked down to see the Lightning coach come in.Punctual to the minute, the coach crowded inside and out, the guardblowing his accustomed tune on the horn--the Lightning came tearingdown the street, and pulled up at the coach-office.

"Hullo! there's old Dobbin," George cried, quite delighted to see hisold friend perched on the roof; and whose promised visit to Brightonhad been delayed until now. "How are you, old fellow? Glad you're comedown. Emmy'll be delighted to see you," Osborne said, shaking hiscomrade warmly by the hand as soon as his descent from the vehicle waseffected--and then he added, in a lower and agitated voice, "What's thenews? Have you been in Russell Square? What does the governor say?Tell me everything."

Dobbin looked very pale and grave. "I've seen your father," said he."How's Amelia--Mrs. George? I'll tell you all the news presently: butI've brought the great news of all: and that is--"

"Out with it, old fellow," George said.

"We're ordered to Belgium. All the army goes--guards and all.Heavytop's got the gout, and is mad at not being able to move. O'Dowdgoes in command, and we embark from Chatham next week." This news ofwar could not but come with a shock upon our lovers, and caused allthese gentlemen to look very serious.