Vanity Fair - Page 493/573

"I--I've another arrival to announce," he said after a pause.

"Mrs. Dobbin?" Amelia said, making a movement back--why didn't he speak?

"No," he said, letting her hands go: "Who has told you those lies? I

mean, your brother Jos came in the same ship with me, and is come home

to make you all happy."

"Papa, Papa!" Emmy cried out, "here are news! My brother is in

England. He is come to take care of you. Here is Major Dobbin."

Mr. Sedley started up, shaking a great deal and gathering up his

thoughts. Then he stepped forward and made an old-fashioned bow to the

Major, whom he called Mr. Dobbin, and hoped his worthy father, Sir

William, was quite well. He proposed to call upon Sir William, who had

done him the honour of a visit a short time ago. Sir William had not

called upon the old gentleman for eight years--it was that visit he was

thinking of returning.

"He is very much shaken," Emmy whispered as Dobbin went up and

cordially shook hands with the old man.

Although he had such particular business in London that evening, the

Major consented to forego it upon Mr. Sedley's invitation to him to

come home and partake of tea. Amelia put her arm under that of her

young friend with the yellow shawl and headed the party on their return

homewards, so that Mr. Sedley fell to Dobbin's share. The old man

walked very slowly and told a number of ancient histories about himself

and his poor Bessy, his former prosperity, and his bankruptcy. His

thoughts, as is usual with failing old men, were quite in former times.

The present, with the exception of the one catastrophe which he felt,

he knew little about. The Major was glad to let him talk on. His eyes

were fixed upon the figure in front of him--the dear little figure

always present to his imagination and in his prayers, and visiting his

dreams wakeful or slumbering.

Amelia was very happy, smiling, and active all that evening, performing

her duties as hostess of the little entertainment with the utmost grace

and propriety, as Dobbin thought. His eyes followed her about as they

sat in the twilight. How many a time had he longed for that moment and

thought of her far away under hot winds and in weary marches, gentle

and happy, kindly ministering to the wants of old age, and decorating

poverty with sweet submission--as he saw her now. I do not say that

his taste was the highest, or that it is the duty of great intellects

to be content with a bread-and-butter paradise, such as sufficed our

simple old friend; but his desires were of this sort, whether for good

or bad, and, with Amelia to help him, he was as ready to drink as many

cups of tea as Doctor Johnson.