“Bravo, Jos!” cried Osborne.
“Thank you, dear Joseph,” said Amelia,
quite ready to kiss her brother, if he were so minded.
(And I think for a kiss from such a dear creature
as Amelia, I would purchase all Mr. Lee’s conservatories
out of hand.)
“O heavenly, heavenly flowers!” exclaimed
Miss Sharp, and smelt them delicately, and held them
to her bosom, and cast up her eyes to the ceiling,
in an ecstasy of admiration. Perhaps she just
looked first into the bouquet, to see whether there
was a billet-doux hidden among the flowers; but there
was no letter.
“Do they talk the language of flowers at Boggley
Wollah, Sedley?” asked Osborne, laughing.
“Pooh, nonsense!” replied the sentimental
youth. “Bought ’em at Nathan’s;
very glad you like ’em; and eh, Amelia, my dear,
I bought a pine-apple at the same time, which I gave
to Sambo. Let’s have it for tiffin; very
cool and nice this hot weather.” Rebecca
said she had never tasted a pine, and longed beyond
everything to taste one.
So the conversation went on. I don’t know
on what pretext Osborne left the room, or why, presently,
Amelia went away, perhaps to superintend the slicing
of the pine-apple; but Jos was left alone with Rebecca,
who had resumed her work, and the green silk and the
shining needles were quivering rapidly under her white
slender fingers.
“What a beautiful, BYOO-OOTIFUL song that was
you sang last night, dear Miss Sharp,” said
the Collector. “It made me cry almost;
’pon my honour it did.”
“Because you have a kind heart, Mr. Joseph;
all the Sedleys have, I think.”
“It kept me awake last night, and I was trying
to hum it this morning, in bed; I was, upon my honour.
Gollop, my doctor, came in at eleven (for I’m
a sad invalid, you know, and see Gollop every day),
and, ’gad! there I was, singing away like—a
robin.”
“O you droll creature! Do let me hear you
sing it.”
“Me? No, you, Miss Sharp; my dear Miss
Sharp, do sing it.” “Not now, Mr.
Sedley,” said Rebecca, with a sigh. “My
spirits are not equal to it; besides, I must finish
the purse. Will you help me, Mr. Sedley?”
And before he had time to ask how, Mr. Joseph Sedley,
of the East India Company’s service, was actually
seated tete-a-tete with a young lady, looking at her
with a most killing expression; his arms stretched
out before her in an imploring attitude, and his hands
bound in a web of green silk, which she was unwinding.
In this romantic position Osborne and Amelia found
the interesting pair, when they entered to announce
that tiffin was ready. The skein of silk was
just wound round the card; but Mr. Jos had never spoken.
“I am sure he will to-night, dear,” Amelia
said, as she pressed Rebecca’s hand; and Sedley,
too, had communed with his soul, and said to himself,
“’Gad, I’ll pop the question at Vauxhall.”
