Vanity Fair - Page 325/573

Perhaps the doctor's lady had good reason for her jealousy: most women

shared it, of those who formed the small circle of Amelia's

acquaintance, and were quite angry at the enthusiasm with which the

other sex regarded her. For almost all men who came near her loved

her; though no doubt they would be at a loss to tell you why. She was

not brilliant, nor witty, nor wise over much, nor extraordinarily

handsome. But wherever she went she touched and charmed every one of

the male sex, as invariably as she awakened the scorn and incredulity

of her own sisterhood. I think it was her weakness which was her

principal charm--a kind of sweet submission and softness, which seemed

to appeal to each man she met for his sympathy and protection. We have

seen how in the regiment, though she spoke but to few of George's

comrades there, all the swords of the young fellows at the mess-table

would have leapt from their scabbards to fight round her; and so it was

in the little narrow lodging-house and circle at Fulham, she interested

and pleased everybody. If she had been Mrs. Mango herself, of the

great house of Mango, Plantain, and Co., Crutched Friars, and the

magnificent proprietress of the Pineries, Fulham, who gave summer

dejeuners frequented by Dukes and Earls, and drove about the parish

with magnificent yellow liveries and bay horses, such as the royal

stables at Kensington themselves could not turn out--I say had she been

Mrs. Mango herself, or her son's wife, Lady Mary Mango (daughter of the

Earl of Castlemouldy, who condescended to marry the head of the firm),

the tradesmen of the neighbourhood could not pay her more honour than

they invariably showed to the gentle young widow, when she passed by

their doors, or made her humble purchases at their shops.

Thus it was not only Mr. Pestler, the medical man, but Mr. Linton the

young assistant, who doctored the servant maids and small tradesmen,

and might be seen any day reading the Times in the surgery, who openly

declared himself the slave of Mrs. Osborne. He was a personable young

gentleman, more welcome at Mrs. Sedley's lodgings than his principal;

and if anything went wrong with Georgy, he would drop in twice or

thrice in the day to see the little chap, and without so much as the

thought of a fee. He would abstract lozenges, tamarinds, and other

produce from the surgery-drawers for little Georgy's benefit, and

compounded draughts and mixtures for him of miraculous sweetness, so

that it was quite a pleasure to the child to be ailing. He and

Pestler, his chief, sat up two whole nights by the boy in that

momentous and awful week when Georgy had the measles; and when you

would have thought, from the mother's terror, that there had never been

measles in the world before. Would they have done as much for other

people? Did they sit up for the folks at the Pineries, when Ralph

Plantagenet, and Gwendoline, and Guinever Mango had the same juvenile

complaint? Did they sit up for little Mary Clapp, the landlord's

daughter, who actually caught the disease of little Georgy? Truth

compels one to say, no. They slept quite undisturbed, at least as far

as she was concerned--pronounced hers to be a slight case, which would

almost cure itself, sent her in a draught or two, and threw in bark

when the child rallied, with perfect indifference, and just for form's

sake.