Vanity Fair (illustrated)

William’s sally had quite broken and cast her down. HER assault was long since over and beaten back.

“Am I to understand then, that you are going - away, William?” she said.

He gave a sad laugh. “I went once before,” he said, “and came back after twelve years. We were young then, Amelia. Good-bye. I have spent enough of my life at this play.”

Whilst they had been talking, the door into Mrs. Osborne’s room had opened ever so little; indeed, Becky had kept a hold of the handle and had turned it on the instant when Dobbin quitted it, and she heard every word of the conversation that had passed between these two. “What a noble heart that man has,” she thought, “and how shamefully that woman plays with it!” She admired Dobbin; she bore him no rancour for the part he had taken against her. It was an open move in the game, and played fairly. “Ah!” she thought, “if I could have had such a husband as that - a man with a heart and brains too! I would not have minded his large feet”; and running into her room, she absolutely bethought herself of something, and wrote him a note, beseeching him to stop for a few days - not to think of going - and that she could serve him with A.

The parting was over. Once more poor William walked to the door and was gone; and the little widow, the author of all this work, had her will, and had won her victory, and was left to enjoy it as she best might. Let the ladies envy her triumph.

At the romantic hour of dinner, Mr. Georgy made his appearance and again remarked the absence of “Old Dob.” The meal was eaten in silence by the party. Jos’s appetite not being diminished, but Emmy taking nothing at all.

After the meal, Georgy was lolling in the cushions of the old window, a large window, with three sides of glass abutting from the gable, and commanding on one side the market-place, where the Elephant is, his mother being busy hard by, when he remarked symptoms of movement at the Major’s house on the other side of the street.

“Hullo!” said he, “there’s Dob’s trap - they are bringing it out of the court-yard.” The “trap” in question was a carriage which the Major had bought for six pounds sterling, and about which they used to rally him a good deal.

Emmy gave a little start, but said nothing.

“Hullo!” Georgy continued, “there’s Francis coming out with the portmanteaus, and Kunz, the one-eyed postilion, coming down the market with three schimmels. Look at his boots and yellow jacket - ain’t he a rum one? Why - they’re putting the horses to Dob’s carriage. Is he going anywhere?”

“Yes,” said Emmy, “he is going on a journey.”

“Going on a journey; and when is he coming back?”

“He is - not coming back,” answered Emmy.

“Not coming back!” cried out Georgy, jumping up. “Stay here, sir,” roared out Jos. “Stay, Georgy,” said his mother with a very sad face. The boy stopped, kicked about the room, jumped up and down from the window-seat with his knees, and showed every symptom of uneasiness and curiosity.

The horses were put to. The baggage was strapped on. Francis came out with his master’s sword, cane, and umbrella tied up together, and laid them in the well, and his desk and old tin cocked-hat case, which he placed under the seat. Francis brought out the stained old blue cloak lined with red camlet, which had wrapped the owner up any time these fifteen years, and had manchen Sturm erlebt, as a favourite song of those days said. It had been new for the campaign of Waterloo and had covered George and William after the night of Quatre Bras.

Old Burcke, the landlord of the lodgings, came out, then Francis, with more packages - final packages - then Major William - Burcke wanted to kiss him. The Major was adored by all people with whom he had to do. It was with difficulty he could escape from this demonstration of attachment.

“By Jove, I will go!” screamed out George. “Give him this,” said Becky, quite interested, and put a paper into the boy’s hand. He had rushed down the stairs and flung across the street in a minute - the yellow postilion was cracking his whip gently.

William had got into the carriage, released from the embraces of his landlord. George bounded in afterwards, and flung his arms round the Major’s neck (as they saw from the window), and began asking him multiplied questions. Then he felt in his waistcoat pocket and gave him a note. William seized at it rather eagerly, he opened it trembling, but instantly his countenance changed, and he tore the paper in two and dropped it out of the carriage. He kissed Georgy on the head, and the boy got out, doubling his fists into his eyes, and with the aid of Francis. He lingered with his hand on the panel. Fort, Schwager! The yellow postilion cracked his whip prodigiously, up sprang Francis to the box, away went the schimmels, and Dobbin with his head on his breast. He never looked up as they passed under Amelia’s window, and Georgy, left alone in the street, burst out crying in the face of all the crowd.