Vanity Fair - Page 499/573

She shook her head sadly and had, as usual, recourse to the waterworks.

She knew what he meant. She and her young confidante, Miss Mary, had

talked over the matter most fully, the very night of the Major's visit,

beyond which time the impetuous Polly could not refrain from talking of

the discovery which she had made, and describing the start and tremor

of joy by which Major Dobbin betrayed himself when Mr. Binny passed

with his bride and the Major learned that he had no longer a rival to

fear. "Didn't you see how he shook all over when you asked if he was

married and he said, 'Who told you those lies?' Oh, M'am," Polly said,

"he never kept his eyes off you, and I'm sure he's grown grey athinking

of you."

But Amelia, looking up at her bed, over which hung the portraits of her

husband and son, told her young protegee never, never, to speak on that

subject again; that Major Dobbin had been her husband's dearest friend

and her own and George's most kind and affectionate guardian; that she

loved him as a brother--but that a woman who had been married to such

an angel as that, and she pointed to the wall, could never think of any

other union. Poor Polly sighed: she thought what she should do if

young Mr. Tomkins, at the surgery, who always looked at her so at

church, and who, by those mere aggressive glances had put her timorous

little heart into such a flutter that she was ready to surrender at

once,--what she should do if he were to die? She knew he was

consumptive, his cheeks were so red and he was so uncommon thin in the

waist.

Not that Emmy, being made aware of the honest Major's passion, rebuffed

him in any way, or felt displeased with him. Such an attachment from

so true and loyal a gentleman could make no woman angry. Desdemona was

not angry with Cassio, though there is very little doubt she saw the

Lieutenant's partiality for her (and I for my part believe that many

more things took place in that sad affair than the worthy Moorish

officer ever knew of); why, Miranda was even very kind to Caliban, and

we may be pretty sure for the same reason. Not that she would encourage

him in the least--the poor uncouth monster--of course not. No more

would Emmy by any means encourage her admirer, the Major. She would

give him that friendly regard, which so much excellence and fidelity

merited; she would treat him with perfect cordiality and frankness

until he made his proposals, and THEN it would be time enough for her

to speak and to put an end to hopes which never could be realized.

She slept, therefore, very soundly that evening, after the conversation

with Miss Polly, and was more than ordinarily happy, in spite of Jos's

delaying. "I am glad he is not going to marry that Miss O'Dowd," she

thought. "Colonel O'Dowd never could have a sister fit for such an

accomplished man as Major William." Who was there amongst her little

circle who would make him a good wife? Not Miss Binny, she was too old

and ill-tempered; Miss Osborne? too old too. Little Polly was too

young. Mrs. Osborne could not find anybody to suit the Major before she

went to sleep.