Vanity Fair - Page 517/573

"Major William Dobbin, my beloved son's friend," was appointed

executor; "and as out of his kindness and bounty, and with his own

private funds, he maintained my grandson and my son's widow, when they

were otherwise without means of support" (the testator went on to say)

"I hereby thank him heartily for his love and regard for them, and

beseech him to accept such a sum as may be sufficient to purchase his

commission as a Lieutenant-Colonel, or to be disposed of in any way he

may think fit."

When Amelia heard that her father-in-law was reconciled to her, her

heart melted, and she was grateful for the fortune left to her. But

when she heard how Georgy was restored to her, and knew how and by

whom, and how it was William's bounty that supported her in poverty,

how it was William who gave her her husband and her son--oh, then she

sank on her knees, and prayed for blessings on that constant and kind

heart; she bowed down and humbled herself, and kissed the feet, as it

were, of that beautiful and generous affection.

And gratitude was all that she had to pay back for such admirable

devotion and benefits--only gratitude! If she thought of any other

return, the image of George stood up out of the grave and said, "You

are mine, and mine only, now and forever."

William knew her feelings: had he not passed his whole life in

divining them?

When the nature of Mr. Osborne's will became known to the world, it was

edifying to remark how Mrs. George Osborne rose in the estimation of

the people forming her circle of acquaintance. The servants of Jos's

establishment, who used to question her humble orders and say they

would "ask Master" whether or not they could obey, never thought now of

that sort of appeal. The cook forgot to sneer at her shabby old gowns

(which, indeed, were quite eclipsed by that lady's finery when she was

dressed to go to church of a Sunday evening), the others no longer

grumbled at the sound of her bell, or delayed to answer that summons.

The coachman, who grumbled that his 'osses should be brought out and

his carriage made into an hospital for that old feller and Mrs. O.,

drove her with the utmost alacrity now, and trembling lest he should be

superseded by Mr. Osborne's coachman, asked "what them there Russell

Square coachmen knew about town, and whether they was fit to sit on a

box before a lady?" Jos's friends, male and female, suddenly became

interested about Emmy, and cards of condolence multiplied on her hall

table. Jos himself, who had looked on her as a good-natured harmless

pauper, to whom it was his duty to give victuals and shelter, paid her

and the rich little boy, his nephew, the greatest respect--was anxious

that she should have change and amusement after her troubles and

trials, "poor dear girl"--and began to appear at the breakfast-table,

and most particularly to ask how she would like to dispose of the day.