The men, as usual, liked her artless kindness and
simple refined demeanour. The gallant young
Indian dandies at home on furlough— immense
dandies these—chained and moustached—driving
in tearing cabs, the pillars of the theatres, living
at West End hotels— nevertheless admired
Mrs. Osborne, liked to bow to her carriage in the
park, and to be admitted to have the honour of paying
her a morning visit. Swankey of the Body Guard
himself, that dangerous youth, and the greatest buck
of all the Indian army now on leave, was one day discovered
by Major Dobbin tete-a-tete with Amelia, and describing
the sport of pig-sticking to her with great humour
and eloquence; and he spoke afterwards of a d—d
king’s officer that’s always hanging about
the house—a long, thin, queer-looking, oldish
fellow—a dry fellow though, that took the
shine out of a man in the talking line.
Had the Major possessed a little more personal vanity
he would have been jealous of so dangerous a young
buck as that fascinating Bengal Captain. But
Dobbin was of too simple and generous a nature to have
any doubts about Amelia. He was glad that the
young men should pay her respect, and that others
should admire her. Ever since her womanhood
almost, had she not been persecuted and undervalued?
It pleased him to see how kindness bought out her
good qualities and how her spirits gently rose with
her prosperity. Any person who appreciated her
paid a compliment to the Major’s good judgement—
that is, if a man may be said to have good judgement
who is under the influence of Love’s delusion.
After Jos went to Court, which we may be sure he did
as a loyal subject of his Sovereign (showing himself
in his full court suit at the Club, whither Dobbin
came to fetch him in a very shabby old uniform) he
who had always been a staunch Loyalist and admirer
of George IV, became such a tremendous Tory and pillar
of the State that he was for having Amelia to go to
a Drawing-room, too. He somehow had worked himself
up to believe that he was implicated in the maintenance
of the public welfare and that the Sovereign would
not be happy unless Jos Sedley and his family appeared
to rally round him at St. James’s.
Emmy laughed. “Shall I wear the family
diamonds, Jos?” she said.
“I wish you would let me buy you some,”
thought the Major. “I should like to see
any that were too good for you.”
CHAPTER LXI
In Which Two Lights are Put Out
There came a day when the round of decorous pleasures
and solemn gaieties in which Mr. Jos Sedley’s
family indulged was interrupted by an event which
happens in most houses. As you ascend the staircase
of your house from the drawing towards the bedroom
floors, you may have remarked a little arch in the
wall right before you, which at once gives light to
the stair which leads from the second story to the
third (where the nursery and servants’ chambers
commonly are) and serves for another purpose of utility,
of which the undertaker’s men can give you a
notion. They rest the coffins upon that arch,
or pass them through it so as not to disturb in any
unseemly manner the cold tenant slumbering within the
black ark.
