Considerable time has elapsed since we have seen our respectablefriend, old Mr. Osborne of Russell Square. He has not been thehappiest of mortals since last we met him. Events have occurred whichhave not improved his temper, and in more in stances than one he hasnot been allowed to have his own way. To be thwarted in thisreasonable desire was always very injurious to the old gentleman; andresistance became doubly exasperating when gout, age, loneliness, andthe force of many disappointments combined to weigh him down. Hisstiff black hair began to grow quite white soon after his son's death;his-face grew redder; his hands trembled more and more as he poured outhis glass of port wine. He led his clerks a dire life in the City:his family at home were not much happier. I doubt if Rebecca, whom wehave seen piously praying for Consols, would have exchanged her povertyand the dare-devil excitement and chances of her life for Osborne'smoney and the humdrum gloom which enveloped him. He had proposed forMiss Swartz, but had been rejected scornfully by the partisans of thatlady, who married her to a young sprig of Scotch nobility. He was aman to have married a woman out of low life and bullied her dreadfullyafterwards; but no person presented herself suitable to his taste, and,instead, he tyrannized over his unmarried daughter, at home. She had afine carriage and fine horses and sat at the head of a table loadedwith the grandest plate. She had a cheque-book, a prize footman tofollow her when she walked, unlimited credit, and bows and complimentsfrom all the tradesmen, and all the appurtenances of an heiress; butshe spent a woeful time. The little charity-girls at the Foundling, thesweeperess at the crossing, the poorest under-kitchen-maid in theservants' hall, was happy compared to that unfortunate and nowmiddle-aged young lady.

Frederick Bullock, Esq., of the house of Bullock, Hulker, and Bullock,had married Maria Osborne, not without a great deal of difficulty andgrumbling on Mr. Bullock's part. George being dead and cut out of hisfather's will, Frederick insisted that the half of the old gentleman'sproperty should be settled upon his Maria, and indeed, for a long time,refused, "to come to the scratch" (it was Mr. Frederick's ownexpression) on any other terms. Osborne said Fred had agreed to takehis daughter with twenty thousand, and he should bind himself to nomore. "Fred might take it, and welcome, or leave it, and go and behanged." Fred, whose hopes had been raised when George had beendisinherited, thought himself infamously swindled by the old merchant,and for some time made as if he would break off the match altogether.Osborne withdrew his account from Bullock and Hulker's, went on 'Changewith a horsewhip which he swore he would lay across the back of acertain scoundrel that should be nameless, and demeaned himself in hisusual violent manner. Jane Osborne condoled with her sister Mariaduring this family feud. "I always told you, Maria, that it was yourmoney he loved and not you," she said, soothingly.

"He selected me and my money at any rate; he didn't choose you andyours," replied Maria, tossing up her head.

The rapture was, however, only temporary. Fred's father and seniorpartners counselled him to take Maria, even with the twenty thousandsettled, half down, and half at the death of Mr. Osborne, with thechances of the further division of the property. So he "knuckleddown," again to use his own phrase, and sent old Hulker with peaceableovertures to Osborne. It was his father, he said, who would not hearof the match, and had made the difficulties; he was most anxious tokeep the engagement. The excuse was sulkily accepted by Mr. Osborne.Hulker and Bullock were a high family of the City aristocracy, andconnected with the "nobs" at the West End. It was something for the oldman to be able to say, "My son, sir, of the house of Hulker, Bullock,and Co., sir; my daughter's cousin, Lady Mary Mango, sir, daughter ofthe Right Hon. The Earl of Castlemouldy." In his imagination he sawhis house peopled by the "nobs." So he forgave young Bullock andconsented that the marriage should take place.

It was a grand affair--the bridegroom's relatives giving the breakfast,their habitations being near St. George's, Hanover Square, where thebusiness took place. The "nobs of the West End" were invited, and manyof them signed the book. Mr. Mango and Lady Mary Mango were there,with the dear young Gwendoline and Guinever Mango as bridesmaids;Colonel Bludyer of the Dragoon Guards (eldest son of the house ofBludyer Brothers, Mincing Lane), another cousin of the bridegroom, andthe Honourable Mrs. Bludyer; the Honourable George Boulter, LordLevant's son, and his lady, Miss Mango that was; Lord ViscountCastletoddy; Honourable James McMull and Mrs. McMull (formerly MissSwartz); and a host of fashionables, who have all married into LombardStreet and done a great deal to ennoble Cornhill.

The young couple had a house near Berkeley Square and a small villa atRoehampton, among the banking colony there. Fred was considered tohave made rather a mesalliance by the ladies of his family, whosegrandfather had been in a Charity School, and who were allied throughthe husbands with some of the best blood in England. And Maria wasbound, by superior pride and great care in the composition of hervisiting-book, to make up for the defects of birth, and felt it herduty to see her father and sister as little as possible.

That she should utterly break with the old man, who had still so manyscores of thousand pounds to give away, is absurd to suppose. FredBullock would never allow her to do that. But she was still young andincapable of hiding her feelings; and by inviting her papa and sisterto her third-rate parties, and behaving very coldly to them when theycame, and by avoiding Russell Square, and indiscreetly begging herfather to quit that odious vulgar place, she did more harm than allFrederick's diplomacy could repair, and perilled her chance of herinheritance like a giddy heedless creature as she was.

"So Russell Square is not good enough for Mrs. Maria, hay?" said theold gentleman, rattling up the carriage windows as he and his daughterdrove away one night from Mrs. Frederick Bullock's, after dinner. "Soshe invites her father and sister to a second day's dinner (if thosesides, or ontrys, as she calls 'em, weren't served yesterday, I'md--d), and to meet City folks and littery men, and keeps the Earls andthe Ladies, and the Honourables to herself. Honourables? DamnHonourables. I am a plain British merchant I am, and could buy thebeggarly hounds over and over. Lords, indeed!--why, at one of herswarreys I saw one of 'em speak to a dam fiddler--a fellar I despise.And they won't come to Russell Square, won't they? Why, I'll lay mylife I've got a better glass of wine, and pay a better figure for it,and can show a handsomer service of silver, and can lay a better dinneron my mahogany, than ever they see on theirs--the cringing, sneaking,stuck-up fools. Drive on quick, James: I want to get back to RussellSquare--ha, ha!" and he sank back into the corner with a furious laugh.With such reflections on his own superior merit, it was the custom ofthe old gentleman not unfrequently to console himself.

Jane Osborne could not but concur in these opinions respecting hersister's conduct; and when Mrs. Frederick's first-born, FrederickAugustus Howard Stanley Devereux Bullock, was born, old Osborne, whowas invited to the christening and to be godfather, contented himselfwith sending the child a gold cup, with twenty guineas inside it forthe nurse. "That's more than any of your Lords will give, I'LLwarrant," he said and refused to attend at the ceremony.

The splendour of the gift, however, caused great satisfaction to thehouse of Bullock. Maria thought that her father was very much pleasedwith her, and Frederick augured the best for his little son and heir.

One can fancy the pangs with which Miss Osborne in her solitude inRussell Square read the Morning Post, where her sister's name occurredevery now and then, in the articles headed "Fashionable Reunions," andwhere she had an opportunity of reading a description of Mrs. F.Bullock's costume, when presented at the drawing room by Lady FredericaBullock. Jane's own life, as we have said, admitted of no suchgrandeur. It was an awful existence. She had to get up of blackwinter's mornings to make breakfast for her scowling old father, whowould have turned the whole house out of doors if his tea had not beenready at half-past eight. She remained silent opposite to him,listening to the urn hissing, and sitting in tremor while the parentread his paper and consumed his accustomed portion of muffins and tea.At half-past nine he rose and went to the City, and she was almost freetill dinner-time, to make visitations in the kitchen and to scold theservants; to drive abroad and descend upon the tradesmen, who wereprodigiously respectful; to leave her cards and her papa's at the greatglum respectable houses of their City friends; or to sit alone in thelarge drawing-room, expecting visitors; and working at a huge piece ofworsted by the fire, on the sofa, hard by the great Iphigenia clock,which ticked and tolled with mournful loudness in the dreary room. Thegreat glass over the mantelpiece, faced by the other great consoleglass at the opposite end of the room, increased and multiplied betweenthem the brown Holland bag in which the chandelier hung, until you sawthese brown Holland bags fading away in endless perspectives, and thisapartment of Miss Osborne's seemed the centre of a system ofdrawing-rooms. When she removed the cordovan leather from the grandpiano and ventured to play a few notes on it, it sounded with amournful sadness, startling the dismal echoes of the house. George'spicture was gone, and laid upstairs in a lumber-room in the garret; andthough there was a consciousness of him, and father and daughter ofteninstinctively knew that they were thinking of him, no mention was evermade of the brave and once darling son.

At five o'clock Mr. Osborne came back to his dinner, which he and hisdaughter took in silence (seldom broken, except when he swore and wassavage, if the cooking was not to his liking), or which they sharedtwice in a month with a party of dismal friends of Osborne's rank andage. Old Dr. Gulp and his lady from Bloomsbury Square; old Mr.Frowser, the attorney, from Bedford Row, a very great man, and from hisbusiness, hand-in-glove with the "nobs at the West End"; old ColonelLivermore, of the Bombay Army, and Mrs. Livermore, from Upper BedfordPlace; old Sergeant Toffy and Mrs. Toffy; and sometimes old Sir ThomasCoffin and Lady Coffin, from Bedford Square. Sir Thomas was celebratedas a hanging judge, and the particular tawny port was produced when hedined with Mr. Osborne.

These people and their like gave the pompous Russell Square merchantpompous dinners back again. They had solemn rubbers of whist, whenthey went upstairs after drinking, and their carriages were called athalf past ten. Many rich people, whom we poor devils are in the habitof envying, lead contentedly an existence like that above described.Jane Osborne scarcely ever met a man under sixty, and almost the onlybachelor who appeared in their society was Mr. Smirk, the celebratedladies' doctor.

I can't say that nothing had occurred to disturb the monotony of thisawful existence: the fact is, there had been a secret in poor Jane'slife which had made her father more savage and morose than even nature,pride, and over-feeding had made him. This secret was connected withMiss Wirt, who had a cousin an artist, Mr. Smee, very celebrated sinceas a portrait-painter and R.A., but who once was glad enough to givedrawing lessons to ladies of fashion. Mr. Smee has forgotten whereRussell Square is now, but he was glad enough to visit it in the year1818, when Miss Osborne had instruction from him.

Smee (formerly a pupil of Sharpe of Frith Street, a dissolute,irregular, and unsuccessful man, but a man with great knowledge of hisart) being the cousin of Miss Wirt, we say, and introduced by her toMiss Osborne, whose hand and heart were still free after variousincomplete love affairs, felt a great attachment for this lady, and itis believed inspired one in her bosom. Miss Wirt was the confidante ofthis intrigue. I know not whether she used to leave the room where themaster and his pupil were painting, in order to give them anopportunity for exchanging those vows and sentiments which cannot beuttered advantageously in the presence of a third party; I know notwhether she hoped that should her cousin succeed in carrying off therich merchant's daughter, he would give Miss Wirt a portion of thewealth which she had enabled him to win--all that is certain is thatMr. Osborne got some hint of the transaction, came back from the Cityabruptly, and entered the drawing-room with his bamboo cane; found thepainter, the pupil, and the companion all looking exceedingly palethere; turned the former out of doors with menaces that he would breakevery bone in his skin, and half an hour afterwards dismissed Miss Wirtlikewise, kicking her trunks down the stairs, trampling on herbandboxes, and shaking his fist at her hackney coach as it bore heraway.

Jane Osborne kept her bedroom for many days. She was not allowed tohave a companion afterwards. Her father swore to her that she shouldnot have a shilling of his money if she made any match without hisconcurrence; and as he wanted a woman to keep his house, he did notchoose that she should marry, so that she was obliged to give up allprojects with which Cupid had any share. During her papa's life, then,she resigned herself to the manner of existence here described, and wascontent to be an old maid. Her sister, meanwhile, was having childrenwith finer names every year and the intercourse between the two grewfainter continually. "Jane and I do not move in the same sphere oflife," Mrs. Bullock said. "I regard her as a sister, of course"--whichmeans--what does it mean when a lady says that she regards Jane as asister?

It has been described how the Misses Dobbin lived with their father ata fine villa at Denmark Hill, where there were beautiful graperies andpeach-trees which delighted little Georgy Osborne. The Misses Dobbin,who drove often to Brompton to see our dear Amelia, came sometimes toRussell Square too, to pay a visit to their old acquaintance MissOsborne. I believe it was in consequence of the commands of theirbrother the Major in India (for whom their papa had a prodigiousrespect), that they paid attention to Mrs. George; for the Major, thegodfather and guardian of Amelia's little boy, still hoped that thechild's grandfather might be induced to relent towards him andacknowledge him for the sake of his son. The Misses Dobbin kept MissOsborne acquainted with the state of Amelia's affairs; how she wasliving with her father and mother; how poor they were; how theywondered what men, and such men as their brother and dear CaptainOsborne, could find in such an insignificant little chit; how she wasstill, as heretofore, a namby-pamby milk-and-water affectedcreature--but how the boy was really the noblest little boy everseen--for the hearts of all women warm towards young children, and thesourest spinster is kind to them.

One day, after great entreaties on the part of the Misses Dobbin,Amelia allowed little George to go and pass a day with them at DenmarkHill--a part of which day she spent herself in writing to the Major inIndia. She congratulated him on the happy news which his sisters hadjust conveyed to her. She prayed for his prosperity and that of thebride he had chosen. She thanked him for a thousand thousand kindoffices and proofs of stead fast friendship to her in her affliction.She told him the last news about little Georgy, and how he was gone tospend that very day with his sisters in the country. She underlinedthe letter a great deal, and she signed herself affectionately hisfriend, Amelia Osborne. She forgot to send any message of kindness toLady O'Dowd, as her wont was--and did not mention Glorvina by name, andonly in italics, as the Major's BRIDE, for whom she begged blessings.But the news of the marriage removed the reserve which she had kept uptowards him. She was glad to be able to own and feel how warmly andgratefully she regarded him--and as for the idea of being jealous ofGlorvina (Glorvina, indeed!), Amelia would have scouted it, if an angelfrom heaven had hinted it to her. That night, when Georgy came back inthe pony-carriage in which he rejoiced, and in which he was driven bySir Wm. Dobbin's old coachman, he had round his neck a fine gold chainand watch. He said an old lady, not pretty, had given it him, whocried and kissed him a great deal. But he didn't like her. He likedgrapes very much. And he only liked his mamma. Amelia shrank andstarted; the timid soul felt a presentiment of terror when she heardthat the relations of the child's father had seen him.

Miss Osborne came back to give her father his dinner. He had made agood speculation in the City, and was rather in a good humour that day,and chanced to remark the agitation under which she laboured. "What'sthe matter, Miss Osborne?" he deigned to say.

The woman burst into tears. "Oh, sir," she said, "I've seen littleGeorge. He is as beautiful as an angel--and so like him!" The old manopposite to her did not say a word, but flushed up and began to tremblein every limb.