"It's a pity Frederick Bullock hadn't some of his modesty, Maria,"

replies the elder sister, with a toss of he head.

"Modesty! Awkwardness you mean, Jane. I don't want Frederick to

trample a hole in my muslin frock, as Captain Dobbin did in yours at

Mrs. Perkins'."

"In YOUR frock, he, he! How could he? Wasn't he dancing with Amelia?"

The fact is, when Captain Dobbin blushed so, and looked so awkward, he

remembered a circumstance of which he did not think it was necessary to

inform the young ladies, viz., that he had been calling at Mr. Sedley's

house already, on the pretence of seeing George, of course, and George

wasn't there, only poor little Amelia, with rather a sad wistful face,

seated near the drawing-room window, who, after some very trifling

stupid talk, ventured to ask, was there any truth in the report that

the regiment was soon to be ordered abroad; and had Captain Dobbin seen

Mr. Osborne that day?

The regiment was not ordered abroad as yet; and Captain Dobbin had not

seen George. "He was with his sister, most likely," the Captain said.

"Should he go and fetch the truant?" So she gave him her hand kindly

and gratefully: and he crossed the square; and she waited and waited,

but George never came.

Poor little tender heart! and so it goes on hoping and beating, and

longing and trusting. You see it is not much of a life to describe.

There is not much of what you call incident in it. Only one feeling

all day--when will he come? only one thought to sleep and wake upon. I

believe George was playing billiards with Captain Cannon in Swallow

Street at the time when Amelia was asking Captain Dobbin about him; for

George was a jolly sociable fellow, and excellent in all games of skill.

Once, after three days of absence, Miss Amelia put on her bonnet, and

actually invaded the Osborne house. "What! leave our brother to come to

us?" said the young ladies. "Have you had a quarrel, Amelia? Do tell

us!" No, indeed, there had been no quarrel. "Who could quarrel with

him?" says she, with her eyes filled with tears. She only came over

to--to see her dear friends; they had not met for so long. And this

day she was so perfectly stupid and awkward, that the Misses Osborne

and their governess, who stared after her as she went sadly away,

wondered more than ever what George could see in poor little Amelia.

Of course they did. How was she to bare that timid little heart for

the inspection of those young ladies with their bold black eyes? It was

best that it should shrink and hide itself. I know the Misses Osborne

were excellent critics of a Cashmere shawl, or a pink satin slip; and

when Miss Turner had hers dyed purple, and made into a spencer; and

when Miss Pickford had her ermine tippet twisted into a muff and

trimmings, I warrant you the changes did not escape the two intelligent

young women before mentioned. But there are things, look you, of a

finer texture than fur or satin, and all Solomon's glories, and all the

wardrobe of the Queen of Sheba--things whereof the beauty escapes the

eyes of many connoisseurs. And there are sweet modest little souls on

which you light, fragrant and blooming tenderly in quiet shady places;

and there are garden-ornaments, as big as brass warming-pans, that are

fit to stare the sun itself out of countenance. Miss Sedley was not of

the sunflower sort; and I say it is out of the rules of all proportion

to draw a violet of the size of a double dahlia.




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