Vanity Fair - Page 168/573

"Shall I sing 'Blue Eyed Mary' or the air from the Cabinet?" Miss

Swartz asked.

"That sweet thing from the Cabinet," the sisters said.

"We've had that," replied the misanthrope on the sofa "I can sing 'Fluvy du Tajy,'" Swartz said, in a meek voice, "if I had

the words." It was the last of the worthy young woman's collection.

"O, 'Fleuve du Tage,'" Miss Maria cried; "we have the song," and went

off to fetch the book in which it was.

Now it happened that this song, then in the height of the fashion, had

been given to the young ladies by a young friend of theirs, whose name

was on the title, and Miss Swartz, having concluded the ditty with

George's applause (for he remembered that it was a favourite of

Amelia's), was hoping for an encore perhaps, and fiddling with the

leaves of the music, when her eye fell upon the title, and she saw

"Amelia Sedley" written in the comer.

"Lor!" cried Miss Swartz, spinning swiftly round on the music-stool,

"is it my Amelia? Amelia that was at Miss P.'s at Hammersmith? I know

it is. It's her, and-- Tell me about her--where is she?"

"Don't mention her," Miss Maria Osborne said hastily. "Her family has

disgraced itself. Her father cheated Papa, and as for her, she is

never to be mentioned HERE." This was Miss Maria's return for George's

rudeness about the Battle of Prague.

"Are you a friend of Amelia's?" George said, bouncing up. "God bless

you for it, Miss Swartz. Don't believe what the girls say. SHE'S not

to blame at any rate. She's the best--"

"You know you're not to speak about her, George," cried Jane. "Papa

forbids it."

"Who's to prevent me?" George cried out. "I will speak of her. I say

she's the best, the kindest, the gentlest, the sweetest girl in

England; and that, bankrupt or no, my sisters are not fit to hold

candles to her. If you like her, go and see her, Miss Swartz; she

wants friends now; and I say, God bless everybody who befriends her.

Anybody who speaks kindly of her is my friend; anybody who speaks

against her is my enemy. Thank you, Miss Swartz"; and he went up and

wrung her hand.

"George! George!" one of the sisters cried imploringly.

"I say," George said fiercely, "I thank everybody who loves Amelia

Sed--" He stopped. Old Osborne was in the room with a face livid with

rage, and eyes like hot coals.

Though George had stopped in his sentence, yet, his blood being up, he

was not to be cowed by all the generations of Osborne; rallying

instantly, he replied to the bullying look of his father, with another

so indicative of resolution and defiance that the elder man quailed in

his turn, and looked away. He felt that the tussle was coming. "Mrs.

Haggistoun, let me take you down to dinner," he said. "Give your arm to

Miss Swartz, George," and they marched.