"I am come to say good-bye, Amelia," said he, taking her slender little
white hand gently.
"Good-bye? and where are you going?" she said, with a smile.
"Send the letters to the agents," he said; "they will forward them; for
you will write to me, won't you? I shall be away a long time."
"I'll write to you about Georgy," she said. "Dear' William, how good
you have been to him and to me. Look at him. Isn't he like an angel?"
The little pink hands of the child closed mechanically round the honest
soldier's finger, and Amelia looked up in his face with bright maternal
pleasure. The cruellest looks could not have wounded him more than
that glance of hopeless kindness. He bent over the child and mother.
He could not speak for a moment. And it was only with all his strength
that he could force himself to say a God bless you. "God bless you,"
said Amelia, and held up her face and kissed him.
"Hush! Don't wake Georgy!" she added, as William Dobbin went to the
door with heavy steps. She did not hear the noise of his cab-wheels as
he drove away: she was looking at the child, who was laughing in his
sleep.