Mr. Bullock accompanying them stealthily on his creaking
shoes. He had no heart to sit alone drinking wine,
and so close to the terrible old gentleman in the study
hard at hand.
An hour at least after dark, the butler, not having
received any summons, ventured to tap at his door and
take him in wax candles and tea. The master of the
house sate in his chair, pretending to read the paper,
and when the servant, placing the lights and refreshment
on the table by him, retired, Mr. Osborne got up and
locked the door after him. This time there was no mistaking
the matter; all the household knew that some great
catastrophe was going to happen which was likely direly
to affect Master George.
In the large shining mahogany escritoire Mr. Osborne
had a drawer especially devoted to his son's affairs and
papers. Here he kept all the documents relating to him
ever since he had been a boy: here were his prize copy-
books and drawing-books, all bearing George's hand,
and that of the master: here were his first letters in large
round-hand sending his love to papa and mamma, and
conveying his petitions for a cake. His dear godpapa
Sedley was more than once mentioned in them. Curses
quivered on old Osborne's livid lips, and horrid hatred
and disappointment writhed in his heart, as looking
through some of these papers he came on that name.
They were all marked and docketed, and tied with red tape.
It was--From Georgy, requesting 5s., April 23, 18--;
answered, April 25"--or "Georgy about a pony, October
13"--and so forth. In another packet were "Dr. S.'s accounts"
--"G.'s tailor's bills and outfits, drafts on me by
G. Osborne, jun.," &c.--his letters from the West Indies
--his agent's letters, and the newspapers containing his
commissions: here was a whip he had when a boy, and in
a paper a locket containing his hair, which his mother
used to wear.
Turning one over after another, and musing over these
memorials, the unhappy man passed many hours. His
dearest vanities, ambitious hopes, had all been here. What
pride he had in his boy! He was the handsomest child
ever seen. Everybody said he was like a nobleman's
son. A royal princess had remarked him, and kissed
him, and asked his name in Kew Gardens. What City
man could show such another? Could a prince have been
better cared for? Anything that money could buy had
been his son's. He used to go down on speech-days with
four horses and new liveries, and scatter new shillings
among the boys at the school where George was: when
he went with George to the depot of his regiment, before
the boy embarked for Canada, he gave the officers
such a dinner as the Duke of York might have sat down
to. Had he ever refused a bill when George drew one?
There they were--paid without a word. Many a general
in the army couldn't ride the horses he had! He had the
child before his eyes, on a hundred different days when
he remembered George after dinner, when he used
to come in as bold as a lord and drink off his glass by
his father's side, at the head of the table--on the pony
at Brighton, when he cleared the hedge and kept up with
the huntsman--on the day when he was presented to
the Prince Regent at the levee, when all Saint James's
couldn't produce a finer young fellow. And this, this was
the end of all!--to marry a bankrupt and fly in the face
of duty and fortune! What humiliation and fury: what
pangs of sickening rage, balked ambition and love; what
wounds of outraged vanity, tenderness even, had this
old worldling now to suffer under!
Having examined these papers, and pondered over this
one and the other, in that bitterest of all helpless woe,
with which miserable men think of happy past times--
George's father took the whole of the documents out of
the drawer in which he had kept them so long, and locked
them into a writing-box, which he tied, and sealed with
his seal. Then he opened the book-case, and took down
the great red Bible we have spoken of a pompous
book, seldom looked at, and shining all over with gold.
There was a frontispiece to the volume, representing
Abraham sacrificing Isaac. Here, according to custom,
Osborne had recorded on the fly-leaf, and in his large
clerk-like hand, the dates of his marriage and his wife's
death, and the births and Christian names of his children.
Jane came first, then George Sedley Osborne, then Maria
Frances, and the days of the christening of each. Taking
a pen, he carefully obliterated George's names from
the page; and when the leaf was quite dry, restored the
volume to the place from which he had moved it. Then
he took a document out of another drawer, where his
own private papers were kept; and having read it, crumpled
it up and lighted it at one of the candles, and saw it
burn entirely away in the grate. It was his will; which
being burned, he sate down and wrote off a letter, and
rang for his servant, whom he charged to deliver it in the
morning. It was morning already: as he went up to bed,
the whole house was alight with the sunshine; and the
birds were singing among the fresh green leaves in
Russell Square.
Anxious to keep all Mr. Osborne's family and dependants
in good humour, and to make as many friends as
possible for George in his hour of adversity, William Dobbin,
who knew the effect which good dinners and good
wines have upon the soul of man, wrote off immediately
on his return to his inn the most hospitable of invitations
to Thomas Chopper, Esquire, begging that gentleman to
dine with him at the Slaughters' next day. The note
reached Mr. Chopper before he left the City, and the
instant reply was, that "Mr. Chopper presents his
respectful compliments, and will have the honour and
pleasure of waiting on Captain D." The invitation and the
rough draft of the answer were shown to Mrs. Chopper
and her daughters on his return to Somers' Town that
evening, and they talked about military gents and West
End men with great exultation as the family sate and
partook of tea. When the girls had gone to rest, Mr. and
Mrs. C. discoursed upon the strange events which were
occurring in the governor's family. Never had the clerk
seen his principal so moved. When he went in to Mr.
Osborne, after Captain Dobbin's departure, Mr. Chopper
found his chief black in the face, and all but in a fit:
some dreadful quarrel, he was certain, had occurred
between Mr. O. and the young Captain. Chopper had been
instructed to make out an account of all sums paid to
Captain Osborne within the last three years. "And a
precious lot of money he has had too," the chief clerk said,
and respected his old and young master the more, for
the liberal way in which the guineas had been flung about.
The dispute was something about Miss Sedley. Mrs.
Chopper vowed and declared she pitied that poor young
lady to lose such a handsome young fellow as the Capting.
As the daughter of an unlucky speculator, who had paid a
very shabby dividend, Mr. Chopper had no great regard
for Miss Sedley. He respected the house of Osborne
before all others in the City of London: and his hope and
wish was that Captain George should marry a nobleman's
daughter. The clerk slept a great deal sounder than
his principal that night; and, cuddling his children after
breakfast (of which he partook with a very hearty
appetite, though his modest cup of life was only
sweetened with brown sugar), he set off in his best Sunday
suit and frilled shirt for business, promising his admiring
wife not to punish Captain D.'s port too severely that
evening.
Mr. Osborne's countenance, when he arrived in the
City at his usual time, struck those dependants who were
accustomed, for good reasons, to watch its expression,
as peculiarly ghastly and worn. At twelve o'clock Mr.
Higgs (of the firm of Higgs & Blatherwick, solicitors,
Bedford Row) called by appointment, and was ushered
into the governor's private room, and closeted there for
more than an hour. At about one Mr. Chopper
received a note brought by Captain Dobbin's man, and
containing an inclosure for Mr. Osborne, which the clerk
went in and delivered. A short time afterwards Mr.
Chopper and Mr. Birch, the next clerk, were summoned, and
requested to witness a paper. "I've been making a new
will," Mr. Osborne said, to which these gentlemen
appended their names accordingly. No conversation
passed. Mr. Higgs looked exceedingly grave as he came
into the outer rooms, and very hard in Mr. Chopper's
face; but there were not any explanations. It was
remarked that Mr. Osborne was particularly quiet and
gentle all day, to the surprise of those who had augured ill
from his darkling demeanour. He called no man names
that day, and was not heard to swear once. He left business
early; and before going away, summoned his chief
clerk once more, and having given him general instructions,
asked him, after some seeming hesitation and reluctance
to speak, if he knew whether Captain Dobbin was in town?
Chopper said he believed he was. Indeed both of them
knew the fact perfectly.
Osborne took a letter directed to that officer, and
giving it to the clerk, requested the latter to deliver it
into Dobbin's own hands immediately.
"And now, Chopper," says he, taking his hat, and with
a strange look, "my mind will be easy." Exactly as the
clock struck two (there was no doubt an appointment
between the pair) Mr. Frederick Bullock called, and he
and Mr. Osborne walked away together.
The Colonel of the --th regiment, in which Messieurs
Dobbin and Osborne had companies, was an old General
who had made his first campaign under Wolfe at Quebec,
and was long since quite too old and feeble for command;
but he took some interest in the regiment of which
he was the nominal head, and made certain of his young
officers welcome at his table, a kind of hospitality
which I believe is not now common amongst his
brethren. Captain Dobbin was an especial favourite
of this old General. Dobbin was versed in the literature
of his profession, and could talk about the great Frederick,
and the Empress Queen, and their wars, almost as well
as the General himself, who was indifferent to the triumphs
of the present day, and whose heart was with the
tacticians of fifty years back. This officer sent a summons
to Dobbin to come and breakfast with him, on the
morning when Mr. Osborne altered his will and Mr. Chopper
put on his best shirt frill, and then informed his young
favourite, a couple of days in advance, of that which they
were all expecting--a marching order to go to Belgium.
The order for the regiment to hold itself in readiness
would leave the Horse Guards in a day or two; and as
transports were in plenty, they would get their route
before the week was over. Recruits had come in during
the stay of the regiment at Chatham; and the old General
hoped that the regiment which had helped to beat
Montcalm in Canada, and to rout Mr. Washington on
Long Island, would prove itself worthy of its historical
reputation on the oft-trodden battle-grounds of the Low
Countries. "And so, my good friend, if you have any
affaire la, said the old General, taking a pinch of snuff
with his trembling white old hand, and then pointing to
the spot of his robe de chambre under which his heart
was still feebly beating, "if you have any Phillis to console,
or to bid farewell to papa and mamma, or any will
to make, I recommend you to set about your business
without delay." With which the General gave his young
friend a finger to shake, and a good-natured nod of his
powdered and pigtailed head; and the door being closed
upon Dobbin, sate down to pen a poulet (he was
exceedingly vain of his French) to Mademoiselle
Amenaide of His Majesty's Theatre.
This news made Dobbin grave, and he thought of our
friends at Brighton, and then he was ashamed of himself
that Amelia was always the first thing in his thoughts
(always before anybody--before father and mother,
sisters and duty--always at waking and sleeping indeed,
and all day long); and returning to his hotel, he sent off a
brief note to Mr. Osborne acquainting him with the
information which he had received, and which might tend
farther, he hoped, to bring about a reconciliation with
George.
This note, despatched by the same messenger who had
carried the invitation to Chopper on the previous day,
alarmed the worthy clerk not a little. It was inclosed to
him, and as he opened the letter he trembled lest the
dinner should be put off on which he was calculating. His
mind was inexpressibly relieved when he found that the
envelope was only a reminder for himself. ("I shall
expect you at half-past five," Captain Dobbin wrote.) He was
very much interested about his employer's family; but,
que voulez-vous? a grand dinner was of more concern to
him than the affairs of any other mortal.
Dobbin was quite justified in repeating the General's
information to any officers of the regiment whom he
should see in the course of his peregrinations; accordingly
he imparted it to Ensign Stubble, whom he met at the
agent's, and who--such was his military ardour--went
off instantly to purchase a new sword at the
accoutrement-maker's. Here this young fellow, who,
though only seventeen years of age, and about sixty-five
inches high, with a constitution naturally rickety and
much impaired by premature brandy and water, had an
undoubted courage and a lion's heart, poised, tried, bent,
and balanced a weapon such as he thought would do execution
amongst Frenchmen. Shouting "Ha, ha!" and stamping his little
feet with tremendous energy, he delivered the point twice
