Vanity Fair - Page 329/573

Twice or thrice in the year, according to her promise, she wrote him

letters to Madras, letters all about little Georgy. How he treasured

these papers! Whenever Amelia wrote he answered, and not until then.

But he sent over endless remembrances of himself to his godson and to

her. He ordered and sent a box of scarfs and a grand ivory set of

chess-men from China. The pawns were little green and white men, with

real swords and shields; the knights were on horseback, the castles

were on the backs of elephants. "Mrs. Mango's own set at the Pineries

was not so fine," Mr. Pestler remarked. These chess-men were the

delight of Georgy's life, who printed his first letter in

acknowledgement of this gift of his godpapa. He sent over preserves

and pickles, which latter the young gentleman tried surreptitiously in

the sideboard and half-killed himself with eating. He thought it was a

judgement upon him for stealing, they were so hot. Emmy wrote a

comical little account of this mishap to the Major: it pleased him to

think that her spirits were rallying and that she could be merry

sometimes now. He sent over a pair of shawls, a white one for her and

a black one with palm-leaves for her mother, and a pair of red scarfs,

as winter wrappers, for old Mr. Sedley and George. The shawls were

worth fifty guineas apiece at the very least, as Mrs. Sedley knew. She

wore hers in state at church at Brompton, and was congratulated by her

female friends upon the splendid acquisition. Emmy's, too, became

prettily her modest black gown. "What a pity it is she won't think of

him!" Mrs. Sedley remarked to Mrs. Clapp and to all her friends of

Brompton. "Jos never sent us such presents, I am sure, and grudges us

everything. It is evident that the Major is over head and ears in love

with her; and yet, whenever I so much as hint it, she turns red and

begins to cry and goes and sits upstairs with her miniature. I'm sick

of that miniature. I wish we had never seen those odious purse-proud

Osbornes."

Amidst such humble scenes and associates George's early youth was

passed, and the boy grew up delicate, sensitive, imperious,

woman-bred--domineering the gentle mother whom he loved with passionate

affection. He ruled all the rest of the little world round about him.

As he grew, the elders were amazed at his haughty manner and his

constant likeness to his father. He asked questions about everything,

as inquiring youth will do. The profundity of his remarks and

interrogatories astonished his old grandfather, who perfectly bored the

club at the tavern with stories about the little lad's learning and

genius. He suffered his grandmother with a good-humoured

indifference. The small circle round about him believed that the equal

of the boy did not exist upon the earth. Georgy inherited his father's

pride, and perhaps thought they were not wrong.