Vanity Fair - Page 301/573

"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.