He cannot strike the noble slumbering chieftain.

but he cannot strike the noble slumbering chieftain.


Clytemnestra glides swiftly into the room like an apparition--her arms are bare and white--her tawny hair floats down her shoulders--her face is deadly pale--and her eyes are lighted up with a smile so ghastly that people quake as they look at her.

Clytemnestra glides swiftly into the room like an apparition - her arms are bare and white - her tawny hair floats down her shoulders - her face is deadly pale - and her eyes are lighted up with a smile so ghastly that onlookers quake.

Chapter 51: In Which a Charade Is Acted Which May or May Not Puzzle the Reader


somebody said, "it's Mrs. Rawdon Crawley."

somebody says, "it's Mrs. Rawdon Crawley."


Scornfully she snatches the dagger out of Aegisthus's hand and advances to the bed.


You see it shining over her head in the glimmer of the lamp, and--and the lamp goes out, with a groan, and all is dark.

You see it shining over her head - and then the lamp goes out, and all is dark.


The darkness and the scene frightened people.


Rebecca performed her part so well, and with such ghastly truth, that the spectators were all dumb, until, with a burst, all the lamps of the hall blazed out again, when everybody began to shout applause.

Rebecca performed with such ghastly truth that the spectators were all dumb, until the lamps blazed out again, when everybody began to shout applause.


old Steyne's strident voice was heard roaring over all the rest.

old Steyne's strident voice was heard roaring.


"By--, she'd do it too," he said between his teeth.


The performers were called by the whole house, which sounded with cries of "Manager!


Agamemnon could not be got to show in his classical tunic, but stood in the background with Aegisthus and others of the performers of the little play.

Agamemnon - the answer to the charade - would not come forward in his tunic, but stood in the background.


Mr. Bedwin Sands led on Zuleikah and Clytemnestra.


A great personage insisted on being presented to the charming Clytemnestra.

A great personage insisted on being presented to Becky.


was the apposite remark made by His Royal Highness.


"Mrs. Rawdon Crawley was quite killing in the part," said Lord Steyne.


Becky laughed, gay and saucy looking, and swept the prettiest little curtsey ever seen.

Becky laughed, gay and saucy-looking, and swept a pretty little curtsey.


Servants brought in salvers covered with numerous cool dainties, and the performers disappeared to get ready for the second charade-tableau.

Servants brought in salvers covered with dainties, and the performers disappeared to get ready for the second tableau.


The three syllables of this charade were to be depicted in pantomime, and the performance took place in the following wise:

The three syllables of this charade were to be depicted in pantomime, in this way:


Colonel Rawdon Crawley, C.B., with a slouched hat and a staff, a great-coat, and a lantern borrowed from the stables, passed across the stage bawling out, as if warning the inhabitants of the hour.

Colonel Rawdon Crawley, in a slouched hat and a great-coat, and carrying a lantern, passed across the stage bawling out, as if warning the inhabitants of the hour.


In the lower window are seen two bagmen playing apparently at the game of cribbage, over which they yawn much.

In the lower window are seen two bagmen playing cribbage, and yawning.


To them enters one looking like Boots (the Honourable G. Ringwood), which character the young gentleman performed to perfection, and divests them of their lower coverings; and presently Chambermaid (the Right Honourable Lord Southdown) with two candlesticks, and a warming-pan.

The Honourable G. Ringwood enters, playing the Boots, and takes their footwear; and presently a Chambermaid (the Right Honourable Lord Southdown) with two candlesticks and a warming-pan.


She ascends to the upper apartment and warms the bed.


She uses the warming-pan as a weapon wherewith she wards off the attention of the bagmen.

She uses the warming-pan as a weapon with which she wards off the attention of the bagmen.


They put on their night-caps and pull down the blinds.


Boots comes out and closes the shutters of the ground-floor chamber.

Boots closes the shutters of the ground-floor chamber.


You hear him bolting and chaining the door within.


The music plays Dormez, dormez, chers Amours.


A voice from behind the curtain says, "First syllable."


The lamps are lighted up all of a sudden.


The music plays the old air from John of Paris, Ah quel plaisir d'etre en voyage.


Between the first and second floors of the house represented, you behold a sign on which the Steyne arms are painted.

On the wall, you behold a sign on which the Steyne arms are painted.


All the bells are ringing all over the house.


In the lower apartment you see a man with a long slip of paper presenting it to another, who shakes his fists, threatens and vows that it is monstrous.

In the lower apartment you see a man give a long slip of paper to another, who shakes his fist and threatens.


"Ostler, bring round my gig," cries another at the door.


He chucks Chambermaid (the Right Honourable Lord Southdown) under the chin; she seems to deplore his absence, as Calypso did that of that other eminent traveller Ulysses.

He chucks Chambermaid (Lord Southdown) under the chin.


Boots (the Honourable G. Ringwood) passes with a wooden box, containing silver flagons, and cries "Pots" with such exquisite humour and naturalness that the whole house rings with applause, and a bouquet is thrown to him.


Landlord, chambermaid, waiter rush to the door, but just as some distinguished guest is arriving, the curtains close, and the invisible theatrical manager cries out "Second syllable."

Landlord, chambermaid, waiter rush to the door, but just as some distinguished guest is arriving, the curtains close, and a voice cries out "Second syllable."


"I think it must be 'Hotel,'" says Captain Grigg of the Life Guards; there is a general laugh at the Captain's cleverness.

"I think it must be 'Hotel,'" says Captain Grigg of the Life Guards; there is a general laugh.


While the third syllable is in preparation, the band begins a nautical medley--"All in the Downs," "Cease Rude Boreas," "Rule Britannia," "In the Bay of Biscay O!"


--some maritime event is about to take place.

- some maritime event is about to take place.


A bell is heard ringing as the curtain draws aside.


They point anxiously as if towards the clouds, which are represented by a dark curtain, and they nod their heads in fear.

They point anxiously as if towards the clouds, and nod their heads in fear.


Lady Squeams (the Right Honourable Lord Southdown), her lap-dog, her bags, reticules, and husband sit down, and cling hold of some ropes.

Lady Squeams (Lord Southdown) sits down, and clings to some ropes.


), with a cocked hat and a telescope, comes in, holding his hat on his head, and looks out; his coat tails fly about as if in the wind.

), with a cocked hat and a telescope, comes in holding his hat on his head, and looks out; his coat tails fly about as if in the wind.


When he leaves go of his hat to use his telescope, his hat flies off, with immense applause.

When he leaves go of his hat to use his telescope, his hat flies off, to immense applause.


The music rises and whistles louder and louder; the mariners go across the stage staggering, as if the ship was in severe motion.

The music rises; the mariners stagger across the stage, as if the ship was in severe motion.


The Steward (the Honourable G. Ringwood) passes reeling by, holding six basins.


He puts one rapidly by Lord Squeams--Lady Squeams, giving a pinch to her dog, which begins to howl piteously, puts her pocket-handkerchief to her face, and rushes away as for the cabin.

Lady Squeams puts her pocket-handkerchief to her face, and rushes away.


The music rises up to the wildest pitch of stormy excitement, and the third syllable is concluded.


There was a little ballet, "Le Rossignol," in which Montessu and Noblet used to be famous in those days, and which Mr. Wagg transferred to the English stage as an opera, putting his verse, of which he was a skilful writer, to the pretty airs of the ballet.

Then there was a little ballet, "Le Rossignol," which Mr. Wagg transferred to the English stage as an opera, putting his verse to the pretty tunes.


It was dressed in old French costume, and little Lord Southdown now appeared admirably attired in the disguise of an old woman hobbling about the stage with a faultless crooked stick.

Little Lord Southdown now appeared admirably attired as an old woman hobbling about with a stick.


Trills of melody were heard behind the scenes, and gurgling from a sweet pasteboard cottage covered with roses and trellis work.

Trills of melody were heard behind the scenes, gurgling from a sweet pasteboard cottage.


"Philomele, Philomele," cries the old woman, and Philomele comes out.


More applause--it is Mrs. Rawdon Crawley in powder and patches, the most ravissante little Marquise in the world.

More applause - it is Mrs. Rawdon Crawley, ravishing in powder and patches.


She comes in laughing, humming, and frisks about the stage with all the innocence of theatrical youth--she makes a curtsey.

She frisks about the stage with the innocence of theatrical youth.


Mamma says "Why, child, you are always laughing and singing," and away she goes, with--

Mamma says, "Why, child, you are always laughing and singing;" at which she


sings a sweet ditty called The Rose Upon My Balcony.


The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring; You ask me why her breath is sweet and why her cheek is blooming, It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing.


The nightingale, whose melody is through the greenwood ringing, Was silent when the boughs were bare and winds were blowing keen: And if, Mamma, you ask of me the reason of his singing, It is because the sun is out and all the leaves are green.


Thus each performs his part, Mamma, the birds have found their voices, The blowing rose a flush, Mamma, her bonny cheek to dye; And there's sunshine in my heart, Mamma, which wakens and rejoices, And so I sing and blush, Mamma, and that's the reason why.


During the intervals of the stanzas of this ditty, the good-natured personage addressed as Mamma by the singer, and whose large whiskers appeared under her cap, seemed very anxious to exhibit her maternal affection by embracing the innocent creature who performed the daughter's part.

During this, her Mamma, with large whiskers under her cap, seems very anxious to show her maternal affection by embracing the innocent daughter


Every caress was received with loud acclamations of laughter by the sympathizing audience.


At its conclusion (while the music was performing a symphony as if ever so many birds were warbling) the whole house was unanimous for an encore: and applause and bouquets without end were showered upon the Nightingale of the evening.

At the end the whole house was unanimous for an encore: and applause and bouquets were showered upon the charade's solution: the Nightingale.


Lord Steyne's voice of applause was loudest of all.


Becky, the nightingale, took the flowers which he threw to her and pressed them to her heart with the air of a consummate comedian.

Becky took the flowers which he threw to her and pressed them to her heart with a comical air.


His guests' enthusiasm harmonized with his own.


Where was the beautiful black-eyed Houri whose appearance in the first charade had caused such delight?

Where was the beautiful black-eyed Houri whose appearance in the first charade had caused such pleasure?


She was twice as handsome as Becky, but the brilliancy of the latter had quite eclipsed her.

She was twice as handsome as Becky, but Becky's brilliancy had eclipsed her.


Stephens, Caradori, Ronzi de Begnis, people compared her to one or the other, and agreed with good reason, very likely, that had she been an actress none on the stage could have surpassed her.

People agreed that if she had been an actress none on the stage could have surpassed her.


She had reached her culmination: her voice rose trilling and bright over the storm of applause, and soared as high and joyful as her triumph.

She had reached her culmination: her voice rose trilling over the storm of applause, and soared as high and joyful as her triumph.


There was a ball after the dramatic entertainments, and everybody pressed round Becky as the great point of attraction of the evening.

There was a ball afterwards, and everybody pressed round Becky.


The Royal Personage declared with an oath that she was perfection, and engaged her again and again in conversation.

The Royal Personage declared with an oath that she was perfection.


Little Becky's soul swelled with pride and delight at these honours; she saw fortune, fame, fashion before her.

Little Becky's soul swelled with pride and delight; she saw fortune, fame, fashion before her.


Lord Steyne was her slave, followed her everywhere, and scarcely spoke to any one in the room beside, and paid her the most marked compliments and attention.

Lord Steyne was her slave, followed her everywhere, scarcely spoke to anyone else, and paid her the most marked compliments.


She still appeared in her Marquise costume and danced a minuet with Monsieur de Truffigny, Monsieur Le Duc de la Jabotiere's attache; and the Duke, who had all the traditions of the ancient court, pronounced that Madame Crawley was worthy to have been a pupil of Vestris, or to have figured at Versailles.

Monsieur Le Duc de la Jabotiere's attach pronounced that Madame Crawley was worthy to have figured at Versailles.


Only a feeling of dignity, the gout, and the strongest sense of duty and personal sacrifice prevented his Excellency from dancing with her himself, and he declared in public that a lady who could talk and dance like Mrs. Rawdon was fit to be ambassadress at any court in Europe.

Only the gout prevented his Excellency from dancing with her, and he declared that Mrs. Rawdon was fit to be ambassadress at any court in Europe.


He was only consoled when he heard that she was half a Frenchwoman by birth.


"None but a compatriot," his Excellency declared, "could have performed that majestic dance in such a way."


Then she figured in a waltz with Monsieur de Klingenspohr, the Prince of Peterwaradin's cousin and attache.

Then she danced a waltz with Monsieur de Klingenspohr, the Prince of Peterwaradin's cousin.


The delighted Prince, having less retenue than his French diplomatic colleague, insisted upon taking a turn with the charming creature, and twirled round the ball-room with her, scattering the diamonds out of his boot-tassels and hussar jacket until his Highness was fairly out of breath.

The delighted Prince insisted upon taking a turn with the charming creature, and twirled round the ball-room with her until he was out of breath.


Papoosh Pasha himself would have liked to dance with her if that amusement had been the custom of his country.


The company made a circle round her and applauded as wildly as if she had been a Noblet or a Taglioni.

The company made a circle round her and applauded wildly.


Everybody was in ecstacy; and Becky too, you may be sure.

Everybody was in ecstasy; and Becky too, you may be sure.


She passed by Lady Stunnington with a look of scorn.

She passed Lady Stunnington with a look of scorn.


She patronized Lady Gaunt and her astonished and mortified sister-in-law--she ecrased all rival charmers.


As for poor Mrs. Winkworth, and her long hair and great eyes, which had made such an effect at the commencement of the evening--where was she now?

As for poor Mrs. Winkworth, with her long hair and great eyes, which had made such an effect earlier - where was she now?


She might tear her long hair and cry her great eyes out, but there was not a person to heed or to deplore the discomfiture.


The greatest triumph of all was at supper time.


She was placed at the grand exclusive table with his Royal Highness the exalted personage before mentioned, and the rest of the great guests.

She was placed at the grand exclusive table with his Royal Highness and the rest of the great guests.


She might have had pearls melted into her champagne if she liked--another Cleopatra--and the potentate of Peterwaradin would have given half the brilliants off his jacket for a kind glance from those dazzling eyes.

The Prince of Peterwaradin would have given half the jewels off his jacket for a kind glance from those dazzling eyes.


Jabotiere wrote home about her to his government.


The ladies at the other tables, who supped off mere silver and marked Lord Steyne's constant attention to her, vowed it was a monstrous infatuation, a gross insult to ladies of rank.

The ladies at the other tables, who supped off mere silver and marked Lord Steyne's constant attention to her, vowed it was a monstrous infatuation.


If sarcasm could have killed, Lady Stunnington would have slain her on the spot.


Rawdon Crawley was scared at these triumphs.


They seemed to separate his wife farther than ever from him somehow.

They seemed to separate his wife from him more than ever.


He thought with a feeling very like pain how immeasurably she was his superior.


When the hour of departure came, a crowd of young men followed her to her carriage, for which the people without bawled, the cry being caught up by the link-men who were stationed outside the tall gates of Gaunt House, congratulating each person who issued from the gate and hoping his Lordship had enjoyed this noble party.

When it was time to go, a crowd of young men followed her outside.


Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's carriage, coming up to the gate after due shouting, rattled into the illuminated court-yard and drove up to the covered way.


Rawdon put his wife into the carriage, which drove off.


Mr. Wenham had proposed to him to walk home, and offered the Colonel the refreshment of a cigar.

Mr. Wenham had proposed to walk home with him, and offered the Colonel a cigar.


They lighted their cigars by the lamp of one of the many link-boys outside, and Rawdon walked on with his friend Wenham.

Lighting their cigars, they walked on together.


Two persons separated from the crowd and followed the two gentlemen; and when they had walked down Gaunt Square a few score of paces, one of the men came up and, touching Rawdon on the shoulder, said, "Beg your pardon, Colonel, I vish to speak to you most particular."

Two persons separated from the crowd and followed them; and when they had walked a hundred yards down Gaunt Square, one of the men came up. Touching Rawdon on the shoulder, he said, "Beg your pardon, Colonel, I wish to speak to you most particular."


This gentleman's acquaintance gave a loud whistle as the latter spoke, at which signal a cab came clattering up from those stationed at the gate of Gaunt House--and the aide-de-camp ran round and placed himself in front of Colonel Crawley.

A cab came clattering up, and the second man ran round and placed himself in front of Colonel Crawley.


That gallant officer at once knew what had befallen him.


He started back, falling against the man who had first touched him.


"We're three on us--it's no use bolting," the man behind said.

"There's three of us - it's no use bolting," the man behind said.


said the Colonel, who appeared to know his interlocutor.

said the Colonel, who appeared to know him.


"Only a small thing," whispered Mr. Moss, of Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane, and assistant officer to the Sheriff of Middlesex--"One hundred and sixty-six, six and eight-pence, at the suit of Mr. Nathan."

"Only a small thing," whispered Mr. Moss, assistant officer to the Sheriff of Middlesex. "One hundred and sixty-six pounds, six and eight-pence, owed to Mr. Nathan."


"Lend me a hundred, Wenham, for God's sake," poor Rawdon said--"I've got seventy at home."

"Lend me a hundred, Wenham, for God's sake," poor Rawdon said. "I've got seventy at home."


"I've not got ten pounds in the world," said poor Mr. Wenham--"Good night, my dear fellow."

"I've not got ten pounds in the world," said Mr. Wenham. "Good night, my dear fellow."


And Wenham walked away--and Rawdon Crawley finished his cigar as the cab drove under Temple Bar.


I suppose there is no man in this Vanity Fair of ours so little observant as not to think sometimes about the worldly affairs of his acquaintances, or so extremely charitable as not to wonder how his neighbour Jones, or his neighbour Smith, can make both ends meet at the end of the year.

I suppose there is no man in Vanity Fair who does not sometimes wonder how his neighbours make ends meet.

Chapter 36: How to Live Well on Nothing a Year


With the utmost regard for the family, for instance (for I dine with them twice or thrice in the season), I cannot but own that the appearance of the Jenkinses in the park, in the large barouche with the grenadier-footmen, will surprise and mystify me to my dying day: for though I know the equipage is only jobbed, and all the Jenkins people are on board wages, yet those three men and the carriage must represent an expense of six hundred a year at the very least--and then there are the splendid dinners, the two boys at Eton, the prize governess and masters for the girls, the trip abroad, or to Eastbourne or Worthing, in the autumn, the annual ball with a supper from Gunter's (who, by the way, supplies most of the first-rate dinners which J. gives, as I know very well, having been invited to one of them to fill a vacant place, when I saw at once that these repasts are very superior to the common run of entertainments for which the humbler sort of J.

With the utmost regard for the Jenkins family, for instance, I confess that the appearance of their large barouche with the grenadier-footmen mystifies me: for those men and the carriage must cost six hundred a year at the very least - and then there are the splendid dinners, the two boys at Eton, the prize governess for the girls, the trips abroad, and the annual ball.


's acquaintances get cards)--who, I say, with the most good-natured feelings in the world, can help wondering how the Jenkinses make out matters?


We all know--Commissioner of the Tape and Sealing Wax Office, with 1200 pounds a year for a salary.

Commissioner of the Tape and Sealing Wax Office, with 1200 pounds a year.


Pooh!--Miss Flint--one of eleven children of a small squire in Buckinghamshire.

Pooh! - she was one of eleven children of a small squire.


All she ever gets from her family is a turkey at Christmas, in exchange for which she has to board two or three of her sisters in the off season, and lodge and feed her brothers when they come to town.

All she ever gets from her family is a turkey at Christmas.


I say, as every friend of his must say, How is it that he has not been outlawed long since, and that he ever came back (as he did to the surprise of everybody) last year from Boulogne?


"I" is here introduced to personify the world in general--the Mrs. Grundy of each respected reader's private circle--every one of whom can point to some families of his acquaintance who live nobody knows how.

Every one of us can point to some families who live nobody knows how.


Many a glass of wine have we all of us drunk, I have very little doubt, hob-and-nobbing with the hospitable giver and wondering how the deuce he paid for it.

Many a glass of wine have we all drunk, hob-nobbing with the giver and wondering how the deuce he paid for it.


Some three or four years after his stay in Paris, when Rawdon Crawley and his wife were established in a very small comfortable house in Curzon Street, May Fair, there was scarcely one of the numerous friends whom they entertained at dinner that did not ask the above question regarding them.

Some three or four years after his stay in Paris, when Rawdon Crawley and his wife were established in a very small comfortable house in Curzon Street, May Fair, all their friends asked this question.


The novelist, it has been said before, knows everything, and as I am in a situation to be able to tell the public how Crawley and his wife lived without any income, may I entreat the public newspapers which are in the habit of extracting portions of the various periodical works now published not to reprint the following exact narrative and calculations--of which I ought, as the discoverer (and at some expense, too), to have the benefit?

As I am able to tell the public how Crawley and his wife lived without any income, may I entreat the public newspapers not to reprint the following narrative - of which, as the discoverer (and at some expense, too) I ought to have the benefit?


My son, I would say, were I blessed with a child--you may by deep inquiry and constant intercourse with him learn how a man lives comfortably on nothing a year.

You may by deep inquiry learn how a man lives comfortably on nothing a year


But it is best not to be intimate with gentlemen of this profession and to take the calculations at second hand, as you do logarithms, for to work them yourself, depend upon it, will cost you something considerable.

: but it is best not to be intimate with gentlemen of this profession, for it will cost you something considerable.


On nothing per annum then, and during a course of some two or three years, of which we can afford to give but a very brief history, Crawley and his wife lived very happily and comfortably at Paris.

On nothing per annum then, Crawley and his wife lived very happily and comfortably at Paris.


It was in this period that he quitted the Guards and sold out of the army.

He had quitted the Guards and sold out of the army.


When we find him again, his mustachios and the title of Colonel on his card are the only relics of his military profession.


It has been mentioned that Rebecca, soon after her arrival in Paris, took a very smart and leading position in the society of that capital, and was welcomed at some of the most distinguished houses of the restored French nobility.

It has been mentioned that Rebecca, soon after her arrival in Paris, took a leading position in society, and was welcomed at noble houses.


The English men of fashion in Paris courted her, too, to the disgust of the ladies their wives, who could not bear the parvenue.

The English men of fashion courted her, to the disgust of their wives, who could not bear the upstart.


For some months the salons of the Faubourg St. Germain, in which her place was secured, and the splendours of the new Court, where she was received with much distinction, delighted and perhaps a little intoxicated Mrs. Crawley, who may have been disposed during this period of elation to slight the people--honest young military men mostly--who formed her husband's chief society.

For some months the fashionable salons, and the splendours of the Court, delighted and perhaps a little intoxicated Mrs. Crawley.


But the Colonel yawned sadly among the Duchesses and great ladies of the Court.

But the Colonel yawned sadly among the Duchesses and great ladies.


The old women who played ecarte made such a noise about a five-franc piece that it was not worth Colonel Crawley's while to sit down at a card-table.


The wit of their conversation he could not appreciate, being ignorant of their language.


And what good could his wife get, he urged, by making curtsies every night to a whole circle of Princesses?


He left Rebecca presently to frequent these parties alone, resuming his own simple pursuits and amusements amongst the amiable friends of his own choice.

He left Rebecca to attend these parties alone, resuming his own simple amusements amongst his friends.


The truth is, when we say of a gentleman that he lives elegantly on nothing a year, we use the word "nothing" to signify something unknown; meaning, simply, that we don't know how the gentleman in question defrays the expenses of his establishment.


Now, our friend the Colonel had a great aptitude for all games of chance: and exercising himself, as he continually did, with the cards, the dice-box, or the cue, it is natural to suppose that he attained a much greater skill in the use of these articles than men can possess who only occasionally handle them.

Now, the Colonel had a great aptitude for all games of chance: and by continual exercise at the cards, dice and the billiard cue had attained much skill in their use.


To use a cue at billiards well is like using a pencil, or a German flute, or a small-sword--you cannot master any one of these implements at first, and it is only by repeated study and perseverance, joined to a natural taste, that a man can excel in the handling of either.


Now Crawley, from being only a brilliant amateur, had grown to be a consummate master of billiards.

From being only a brilliant amateur, he had grown to be a consummate master of billiards.


Like a great General, his genius used to rise with the danger, and when the luck had been unfavourable to him for a whole game, and the bets were consequently against him, he would, with consummate skill and boldness, make some prodigious hits which would restore the battle, and come in a victor at the end, to the astonishment of everybody--of everybody, that is, who was a stranger to his play.

His genius used to rise with the danger; when luck had been unfavourable to him for a whole game, and the bets were against him, he would boldly make some prodigious shots and win, to everybody's astonishment.


Those who were accustomed to see it were cautious how they staked their money against a man of such sudden resources and brilliant and overpowering skill.


At games of cards he was equally skilful; for though he would constantly lose money at the commencement of an evening, playing so carelessly and making such blunders, that newcomers were often inclined to think meanly of his talent; yet when roused to action and awakened to caution by repeated small losses, it was remarked that Crawley's play became quite different, and that he was pretty sure of beating his enemy thoroughly before the night was over.

At cards he was equally skilful. He would constantly lose money at the start of an evening, making such careless blunders that newcomers were inclined to think meanly of his talent. Yet when roused to action, his play became quite different, so that he was pretty sure of beating his enemy thoroughly before the night was over.


Indeed, very few men could say that they ever had the better of him.


His successes were so repeated that no wonder the envious and the vanquished spoke sometimes with bitterness regarding them.

The envious and the vanquished spoke sometimes with bitterness about his successes


And as the French say of the Duke of Wellington, who never suffered a defeat, that only an astonishing series of lucky accidents enabled him to be an invariable winner; yet even they allow that he cheated at Waterloo, and was enabled to win the last great trick: so it was hinted at headquarters in England that some foul play must have taken place in order to account for the continuous successes of Colonel Crawley.

, hinting that they were due to foul play.


Though Frascati's and the Salon were open at that time in Paris, the mania for play was so widely spread that the public gambling-rooms did not suffice for the general ardour, and gambling went on in private houses as much as if there had been no public means for gratifying the passion.

In Paris at that time, gambling went on not just in public gaming rooms but in private houses.


At Crawley's charming little reunions of an evening this fatal amusement commonly was practised--much to good-natured little Mrs. Crawley's annoyance.

At Crawley's charming little evening gatherings it was commonly practised - much to good-natured Mrs. Crawley's annoyance.


She spoke about her husband's passion for dice with the deepest grief; she bewailed it to everybody who came to her house.

She spoke with grief about her husband's passion for dice; she bewailed it to everybody who came to her house.


She besought the young fellows never, never to touch a box; and when young Green, of the Rifles, lost a very considerable sum of money, Rebecca passed a whole night in tears, as the servant told the unfortunate young gentleman, and actually went on her knees to her husband to beseech him to remit the debt, and burn the acknowledgement.

She besought the young fellows never to touch the dice; and when young Green lost a considerable sum of money, Rebecca passed a whole night in tears (as her servant told the unfortunate young gentleman) and actually went on her knees to her husband to beseech him to remit the debt.


He had lost just as much himself to Blackstone of the Hussars, and Count Punter of the Hanoverian Cavalry.


Green might have any decent time; but pay?--of course he must pay; to talk of burning IOU's was child's play.

Green might have time; but of course he must pay.


Other officers, chiefly young--for the young fellows gathered round Mrs. Crawley--came from her parties with long faces, having dropped more or less money at her fatal card-tables.


Her house began to have an unfortunate reputation.


The old hands warned the less experienced of their danger.


Colonel O'Dowd, of the --th regiment, one of those occupying in Paris, warned Lieutenant Spooney of that corps.

; Colonel O'Dowd warned Lieutenant Spooney.


A loud and violent fracas took place between the infantry Colonel and his lady, who were dining at the Cafe de Paris, and Colonel and Mrs. Crawley; who were also taking their meal there.

A loud and violent fracas took place at the Caf de Paris between Colonel O'Dowd and his lady, and Colonel and Mrs. Crawley.


Mrs. O'Dowd snapped her fingers in Mrs. Crawley's face and called her husband "no betther than a black-leg."


Colonel Crawley challenged Colonel O'Dowd, C.B.


The Commander-in-Chief hearing of the dispute sent for Colonel Crawley, who was getting ready the same pistols "which he shot Captain Marker," and had such a conversation with him that no duel took place.

; but the Commander-in-Chief heard of it and ensured that no duel took place.


If Rebecca had not gone on her knees to General Tufto, Crawley would have been sent back to England; and he did not play, except with civilians, for some weeks after.


But, in spite of Rawdon's undoubted skill and constant successes, it became evident to Rebecca, considering these things, that their position was but a precarious one, and that, even although they paid scarcely anybody, their little capital would end one day by dwindling into zero.

In spite of Rawdon's undoubted skill, it became clear to Rebecca that their position was precarious.


"Gambling," she would say, "dear, is good to help your income, but not as an income itself.

"Gambling," she would say, "is good to help your income, but is not an income itself.


Some day people may be tired of play, and then where are we?"

People may get tired of play, and then where are we?"


Rawdon acquiesced in the justice of her opinion; and in truth he had remarked that after a few nights of his little suppers, &c., gentlemen were tired of play with him, and, in spite of Rebecca's charms, did not present themselves very eagerly.

Rawdon saw the truth of this; he had noticed that after a few nights of his little suppers, gentlemen did not present themselves very eagerly.


Easy and pleasant as their life at Paris was, it was after all only an idle dalliance and amiable trifling; and Rebecca saw that she must push Rawdon's fortune in their own country.


She must get him a place or appointment at home or in the colonies, and she determined to make a move upon England as soon as the way could be cleared for her.


As a first step she had made Crawley sell out of the Guards and go on half-pay.

As a first step she had made him sell out of the Guards and go on half-pay.


His function as aide-de-camp to General Tufto had ceased previously.

He was no longer aide-de-camp to General Tufto.


Rebecca laughed in all companies at that officer, at his toupee (which he mounted on coming to Paris), at his waistband, at his false teeth, at his pretensions to be a lady-killer above all, and his absurd vanity in fancying every woman whom he came near was in love with him.

Rebecca laughed at that officer, at his toupee, his false teeth, and his pretensions to be a lady-killer.


It was to Mrs. Brent, the beetle-browed wife of Mr. Commissary Brent, to whom the general transferred his attentions now--his bouquets, his dinners at the restaurateurs', his opera-boxes, and his knick-knacks.

The general had transferred his attentions to Mrs. Brent, along with his bouquets, his dinners, his opera-boxes, and his knick-knacks.


Poor Mrs. Tufto was no more happy than before, and had still to pass long evenings alone with her daughters, knowing that her General was gone off scented and curled to stand behind Mrs. Brent's chair at the play.


Becky had a dozen admirers in his place, to be sure, and could cut her rival to pieces with her wit.


But, as we have said, she was growing tired of this idle social life: opera-boxes and restaurateur dinners palled upon her: nosegays could not be laid by as a provision for future years: and she could not live upon knick-knacks, laced handkerchiefs, and kid gloves.

But opera-boxes and dinners palled upon her: nosegays were not a provision for future years: and she could not live upon knick-knacks.


She felt the frivolity of pleasure and longed for more substantial benefits.

She longed for more substantial benefits.


At this juncture news arrived which was spread among the many creditors of the Colonel at Paris, and which caused them great satisfaction.


Miss Crawley, the rich aunt from whom he expected his immense inheritance, was dying; the Colonel must haste to her bedside.

that Miss Crawley was dying; the Colonel must haste to her bedside.


Mrs. Crawley and her child would remain behind until he came to reclaim them.

Mrs. Crawley and her child would remain behind until he came for them.


He departed for Calais, and having reached that place in safety, it might have been supposed that he went to Dover; but instead he took the diligence to Dunkirk, and thence travelled to Brussels, for which place he had a former predilection.

Rawdon departed for Calais, but instead of sailing to Dover, he then made for Brussels, preferring that


The fact is, he owed more money at London than at Paris; and he preferred the quiet little Belgian city to either of the more noisy capitals.

quiet little city where he had fewer debts than in England.


Mrs. Crawley ordered the most intense mourning for herself and little Rawdon.


The Colonel was busy arranging the affairs of the inheritance.


They could take the premier now, instead of the little entresol of the hotel which they occupied.

to inherit, and she booked the premier suite at the hotel where they were staying instead of the small apartment.


Mrs. Crawley and the landlord had a consultation about the new hangings, an amicable wrangle about the carpets, and a final adjustment of everything except the bill.

She had an amicable wrangle with the landlord about carpets and new hangings, and a final adjustment of everything except the bill.


She went off in one of his carriages; her French bonne with her; the child by her side; the admirable landlord and landlady smiling farewell to her from the gate.

She went off in one of his carriages, with her French maid and her child; the landlord and landlady smiling farewell to her from the gate.


General Tufto was furious when he heard she was gone, and Mrs. Brent furious with him for being furious; Lieutenant Spooney was cut to the heart; and the landlord got ready his best apartments previous to the return of the fascinating little woman and her husband.

General Tufto was furious when he heard she was gone, and Mrs. Brent was furious with him for being furious; Lieutenant Spooney was cut to the heart; and the landlord got his best suite ready for her return.


He _serred_ the trunks which she left in his charge with the greatest care.

He kept the trunks which she left in his charge with the greatest care.


They had been especially recommended to him by Madame Crawley.


They were not, however, found to be particularly valuable when opened some time after.


But before she went to join her husband in the Belgic capital, Mrs. Crawley made an expedition into England, leaving behind her her little son upon the continent, under the care of her French maid.

Before she went to join her husband in Brussels, Mrs. Crawley made an expedition into England, leaving her little son behind under the care of her French maid.


The parting between Rebecca and the little Rawdon did not cause either party much pain.

The parting between Rebecca and the little Rawdon did not cause either much pain.


She had not, to say truth, seen much of the young gentleman since his birth.

She had not seen much of him since his birth.


After the amiable fashion of French mothers, she had placed him out at nurse in a village in the neighbourhood of Paris, where little Rawdon passed the first months of his life, not unhappily, with a numerous family of foster-brothers in wooden shoes.

After the amiable fashion of French mothers, she had placed him out at nurse in a village, where little Rawdon passed the first months of his life, not unhappily, with a numerous family of foster-brothers in wooden shoes.


His father would ride over many a time to see him here, and the elder Rawdon's paternal heart glowed to see him rosy and dirty, shouting lustily, and happy in the making of mud-pies under the superintendence of the gardener's wife, his nurse.

His father would ride over often to visit him, and the elder Rawdon's heart glowed to see him rosy and dirty, shouting lustily, and happy in the making of mud-pies.


Rebecca did not care much to go and see the son and heir.

Rebecca did not care much to go and see her son.


Once he spoiled a new dove-coloured pelisse of hers.


He preferred his nurse's caresses to his mamma's, and when finally he quitted that jolly nurse and almost parent, he cried loudly for hours.

He preferred his nurse's caresses to his mamma's, and when finally he quitted that jolly nurse, he cried loudly for hours.


He was only consoled by his mother's promise that he should return to his nurse the next day; indeed the nurse herself, who probably would have been pained at the parting too, was told that the child would immediately be restored to her, and for some time awaited quite anxiously his return.

He was only consoled by his mother's promise that he should return the next day; indeed the nurse too was told that the child would be restored to her, and for some time anxiously awaited his return.


In fact, our friends may be said to have been among the first of that brood of hardy English adventurers who have subsequently invaded the Continent and swindled in all the capitals of Europe.


The respect in those happy days of 1817-18 was very great for the wealth and honour of Britons.

Thirty years ago there was great respect in Europe for the honour and wealth of Britons.


They had not then learned, as I am told, to haggle for bargains with the pertinacity which now distinguishes them.


The great cities of Europe had not been as yet open to the enterprise of our rascals.


And whereas there is now hardly a town of France or Italy in which you shall not see some noble countryman of our own, with that happy swagger and insolence of demeanour which we carry everywhere, swindling inn-landlords, passing fictitious cheques upon credulous bankers, robbing coach-makers of their carriages, goldsmiths of their trinkets, easy travellers of their money at cards, even public libraries of their books--thirty years ago you needed but to be a Milor Anglais, travelling in a private carriage, and credit was at your hand wherever you chose to seek it, and gentlemen, instead of cheating, were cheated.

You needed only to be a Milor Anglais, travelling in a private carriage, and credit was yours wherever you chose.


It was not for some weeks after the Crawleys' departure that the landlord of the hotel which they occupied during their residence at Paris found out the losses which he had sustained: not until Madame Marabou, the milliner, made repeated visits with her little bill for articles supplied to Madame Crawley; not until Monsieur Didelot from Boule d'Or in the Palais Royal had asked half a dozen times whether cette charmante Miladi who had bought watches and bracelets of him was de retour.

It was not for some weeks after the Crawleys' departure that the landlord of their Paris hotel found out the losses which he had sustained: not until the milliner and the jeweller made repeated visits with their bills for Madame Crawley.


It is a fact that even the poor gardener's wife, who had nursed madame's child, was never paid after the first six months for that supply of the milk of human kindness with which she had furnished the lusty and healthy little Rawdon.

Even the poor nurse was never paid after the first six months for that milk of human kindness with which she had nurtured the healthy little Rawdon.


No, not even the nurse was paid--the Crawleys were in too great a hurry to remember their trifling debt to her.


As for the landlord of the hotel, his curses against the English nation were violent for the rest of his natural life.


He asked all travellers whether they knew a certain Colonel Lor Crawley--avec sa femme une petite dame, tres spirituelle.


he would add--"ils m'ont affreusement vole."


It was melancholy to hear his accents as he spoke of that catastrophe.


Rebecca's object in her journey to London was to effect a kind of compromise with her husband's numerous creditors, and by offering them a dividend of ninepence or a shilling in the pound, to secure a return for him into his own country.

Rebecca's object in her journey to London was to reach an agreement with her husband's creditors, and by offering them a shilling in the pound, to secure his return to England.


It does not become us to trace the steps which she took in the conduct of this most difficult negotiation; but, having shown them to their satisfaction that the sum which she was empowered to offer was all her husband's available capital, and having convinced them that Colonel Crawley would prefer a perpetual retirement on the Continent to a residence in this country with his debts unsettled; having proved to them that there was no possibility of money accruing to him from other quarters, and no earthly chance of their getting a larger dividend than that which she was empowered to offer, she brought the Colonel's creditors unanimously to accept her proposals, and purchased with fifteen hundred pounds of ready money more than ten times that amount of debts.

She managed to convince them that she was offering them all her husband's wealth, and that otherwise he would stay on the continent and they would get no money at all. Thus she purchased with fifteen hundred pounds of ready money more than ten times that amount of debt.


Mrs. Crawley employed no lawyer in the transaction.


The matter was so simple, to have or to leave, as she justly observed, that she made the lawyers of the creditors themselves do the business.

She made the lawyers of the creditors themselves do the business.


And Mr. Lewis representing Mr. Davids, of Red Lion Square, and Mr. Moss acting for Mr. Manasseh of Cursitor Street (chief creditors of the Colonel's), complimented his lady upon the brilliant way in which she did business, and declared that there was no professional man who could beat her.

And they complimented her upon the brilliant way in which she dealt with them, and declared that no professional man could beat her.


Rebecca received their congratulations with perfect modesty; ordered a bottle of sherry and a bread cake to the little dingy lodgings where she dwelt, while conducting the business, to treat the enemy's lawyers: shook hands with them at parting, in excellent good humour, and returned straightway to the Continent, to rejoin her husband and son and acquaint the former with the glad news of his entire liberation.

Rebecca received their congratulations with perfect modesty; ordered a bottle of sherry to her dingy lodgings to treat the enemy's lawyers: shook hands with them at parting, in excellent good humour, and returned straightway to the Continent, to rejoin her husband and tell him the good news.


As for the latter, he had been considerably neglected during his mother's absence by Mademoiselle Genevieve, her French maid; for that young woman, contracting an attachment for a soldier in the garrison of Calais, forgot her charge in the society of this militaire, and little Rawdon very narrowly escaped drowning on Calais sands at this period, where the absent Genevieve had left and lost him.

Her son had been neglected during his mother's absence; for her French maid, forming an attachment for a soldier, forgot her charge, and little Rawdon very narrowly escaped drowning on Calais sands, where she had left and lost him.


And so, Colonel and Mrs. Crawley came to London: and it is at their house in Curzon Street, May Fair, that they really showed the skill which must be possessed by those who would live on the resources above named.

And so Colonel and Mrs. Crawley came to London: and at their house in Curzon Street, May Fair, they showed the skill which must be possessed by those who would live on non-existent income.


I fear the gentleman to whom Miss Amelia's letters were addressed was rather an obdurate critic.


Such a number of notes followed Lieutenant Osborne about the country, that he became almost ashamed of the jokes of his mess-room companions regarding them, and ordered his servant never to deliver them except at his private apartment.

that so many notes followed Lieutenant Osborne about the country, that he became almost ashamed of the jokes of his mess-room companions about them, and ordered his servant to deliver them to his private room.


He was seen lighting his cigar with one, to the horror of Captain Dobbin, who, it is my belief, would have given a bank-note for the document.

He was seen lighting his cigar with one, to the horror of Captain Dobbin, who, it is my belief, would have given a bank-note for it.


For some time George strove to keep the liaison a secret.


There was a woman in the case, that he admitted.

There was a woman in the case, he admitted.


"And not the first either," said Ensign Spooney to Ensign Stubble.


There was a judge's daughter at Demerara went almost mad about him; then there was that beautiful quadroon girl, Miss Pye, at St. Vincent's, you know; and since he's been home, they say he's a regular Don Giovanni, by Jove."

There was a judge's daughter at Demerara went almost mad about him; then there was that beautiful girl at St. Vincent's; and since he's been home, they say he's a regular Don Giovanni, by Jove."


Stubble and Spooney thought that to be a "regular Don Giovanni, by Jove" was one of the finest qualities a man could possess, and Osborne's reputation was prodigious amongst the young men of the regiment.

Stubble and Spooney thought that to be a "regular Don Giovanni" was one of the finest qualities a man could possess, and Osborne's reputation was prodigious amongst the young men of the regiment.


He was famous in field-sports, famous at a song, famous on parade; free with his money, which was bountifully supplied by his father.

He was famous in field-sports, free with his money,


His coats were better made than any man's in the regiment, and he had more of them.

and his coats were better made than any.


He could drink more than any officer of the whole mess, including old Heavytop, the colonel.

He could drink more than any officer of the mess,


He could spar better than Knuckles, the private (who would have been a corporal but for his drunkenness, and who had been in the prize-ring); and was the best batter and bowler, out and out, of the regimental club.

and box, and was the best batter and bowler of the regimental cricket club.


He rode his own horse, Greased Lightning, and won the Garrison cup at Quebec races.


There were other people besides Amelia who worshipped him.


Stubble and Spooney thought him a sort of Apollo; Dobbin took him to be an Admirable Crichton; and Mrs. Major O'Dowd acknowledged he was an elegant young fellow, and put her in mind of Fitzjurld Fogarty, Lord Castlefogarty's second son.


Well, Stubble and Spooney and the rest indulged in most romantic conjectures regarding this female correspondent of Osborne's--opining that it was a Duchess in London who was in love with him--or that it was a General's daughter, who was engaged to somebody else, and madly attached to him--or that it was a Member of Parliament's lady, who proposed four horses and an elopement--or that it was some other victim of a passion delightfully exciting, romantic, and disgraceful to all parties, on none of which conjectures would Osborne throw the least light, leaving his young admirers and friends to invent and arrange their whole history.

Well, Stubble and Spooney and the rest indulged in romantic conjectures about this female correspondent of Osborne's - saying that it was a Duchess who was in love with him, or a General's daughter, or some other victim of a passion delightfully exciting and disgraceful.


And the real state of the case would never have been known at all in the regiment but for Captain Dobbin's indiscretion.

And the real state of the case would never have been known in the regiment but for Captain Dobbin's indiscretion.


The Captain was eating his breakfast one day in the mess-room, while Cackle, the assistant-surgeon, and the two above-named worthies were speculating upon Osborne's intrigue--Stubble holding out that the lady was a Duchess about Queen Charlotte's court, and Cackle vowing she was an opera-singer of the worst reputation.

The Captain was eating his breakfast one day in the mess-room, while the two ensigns and the surgeon were speculating upon Osborne's intrigue - Stubble holding out that the lady was a Duchess, and Cackle vowing she was an opera-singer of the worst reputation.


At this idea Dobbin became so moved, that though his mouth was full of eggs and bread-and-butter at the time, and though he ought not to have spoken at all, yet he couldn't help blurting out, "Cackle, you're a stupid fool.

At this Dobbin couldn't help blurting out, "You're


You're always talking nonsense and scandal.


Osborne is not going to run off with a Duchess or ruin a milliner.

Osborne is not going to run off with a duchess or an opera-singer.


Miss Sedley is one of the most charming young women that ever lived.


He's been engaged to her ever so long; and the man who calls her names had better not do so in my hearing."


With which, turning exceedingly red, Dobbin ceased speaking, and almost choked himself with a cup of tea.

And turning exceedingly red, Dobbin almost choked himself with a cup of tea.


The story was over the regiment in half-an-hour; and that very evening Mrs. Major O'Dowd wrote off to her sister Glorvina at O'Dowdstown not to hurry from Dublin--young Osborne being prematurely engaged already.

The story was over the regiment in half-an-hour; and Osborne


She complimented the Lieutenant in an appropriate speech over a glass of whisky-toddy that evening, and he went home perfectly furious to quarrel with Dobbin (who had declined Mrs. Major O'Dowd's party, and sat in his own room playing the flute, and, I believe, writing poetry in a very melancholy manner)--to quarrel with Dobbin for betraying his secret.

was furious with Dobbin for betraying his secret.


"Who the deuce asked you to talk about my affairs?"


"Why the devil is all the regiment to know that I am going to be married?


Why is that tattling old harridan, Peggy O'Dowd, to make free with my name at her d--d supper-table, and advertise my engagement over the three kingdoms?


After all, what right have you to say I am engaged, or to meddle in my business at all, Dobbin?"

What right have you to meddle in my business, Dobbin?"


"Seems be hanged, Dobbin," his junior interrupted him.


"I am under obligations to you, I know it, a d--d deal too well too; but I won't be always sermonised by you because you're five years my senior.

"I am under obligations to you, I know, but I won't be sermonised by you because you're five years my senior.


I'm hanged if I'll stand your airs of superiority and infernal pity and patronage.

I'm hanged if I'll stand your airs of superiority.


I should like to know in what I'm your inferior?"


"What the devil's that to you or any one here if I am?"

"What the devil's that to you or anyone here?"


"What right have you to ask me that question, sir?"


"Good God, you don't mean to say you want to break off?"


"In other words, you ask me if I'm a man of honour," said Osborne, fiercely; "is that what you mean?


You've adopted such a tone regarding me lately that I'm ------ if I'll bear it any more."

You've adopted such a tone to me lately that I'm d____ if I'll bear it any more."


I've told you you were neglecting a sweet girl, George.

I've told you that you were neglecting a sweet girl, George.


I've told you that when you go to town you ought to go to her, and not to the gambling-houses about St. James's."


"You want your money back, I suppose," said George, with a sneer.


"Of course I do--I always did, didn't I?"

"Of course I do - I always did, didn't I?"


"No, hang it, William, I beg your pardon"--here George interposed in a fit of remorse; "you have been my friend in a hundred ways, Heaven knows.

"No, hang it, William, I beg your pardon," George interposed with remorse; "you have been my friend in a hundred ways, Heaven knows.


You've got me out of a score of scrapes.


When Crawley of the Guards won that sum of money of me I should have been done but for you: I know I should.

When Crawley of the Guards won that money off me I should have been done but for you.


But you shouldn't deal so hardly with me; you shouldn't be always catechising me.

But you shouldn't be always preaching at me.


I am very fond of Amelia; I adore her, and that sort of thing.


But you see there's no fun in winning a thing unless you play for it.


Hang it: the regiment's just back from the West Indies, I must have a little fling, and then when I'm married I'll reform; I will upon my honour, now.

hang it: we're just back from the West Indies. I must have a little fling, and when I'm married I'll reform, upon my honour.


And--I say--Dob--don't be angry with me, and I'll give you a hundred next month, when I know my father will stand something handsome; and I'll ask Heavytop for leave, and I'll go to town, and see Amelia to-morrow--there now, will that satisfy you?"

Dob - don't be angry, and I'll give you a hundred next month, when I know my father will pay me something handsome; and I'll ask for leave, and go to town, and see Amelia tomorrow. Will that satisfy you?"


"It is impossible to be long angry with you, George," said the good-natured Captain; "and as for the money, old boy, you know if I wanted it you'd share your last shilling with me."

"It is impossible to be long angry with you, George," said the Captain; "and as for the money, old boy, I know you'd share your last shilling with me."


"That I would, by Jove, Dobbin," George said, with the greatest generosity, though by the way he never had any money to spare.

"That I would, by Jove, Dobbin," George said generously, though he never had any money to spare.


"Only I wish you had sown those wild oats of yours, George.


If you could have seen poor little Miss Emmy's face when she asked me about you the other day, you would have pitched those billiard-balls to the deuce.


Do something to make her happy; a very little will."


"I believe she's d--d fond of me," the Lieutenant said, with a self-satisfied air; and went off to finish the evening with some jolly fellows in the mess-room.

"I believe she's d___d fond of me," the Lieutenant said, with a self-satisfied air; and went off to join some fellows in the mess-room.


Amelia meanwhile, in Russell Square, was looking at the moon, which was shining upon that peaceful spot, as well as upon the square of the Chatham barracks, where Lieutenant Osborne was quartered, and thinking to herself how her hero was employed.

Amelia, meanwhile, was looking at the moon, and thinking of her hero.


Perhaps he is visiting the sentries, thought she; perhaps he is bivouacking; perhaps he is attending the couch of a wounded comrade, or studying the art of war up in his own desolate chamber.

Perhaps he is visiting the sentries, thought she; perhaps he is bivouacking, or attending the bed of a wounded comrade, or studying the art of war up in his own desolate chamber.


And her kind thoughts sped away as if they were angels and had wings, and flying down the river to Chatham and Rochester, strove to peep into the barracks where George was. . . .


All things considered, I think it was as well the gates were shut, and the sentry allowed no one to pass; so that the poor little white-robed angel could not hear the songs those young fellows were roaring over the whisky-punch.

All things considered, I think it was as well the poor little angel could not hear the songs those young fellows were roaring over the whisky-punch.


The day after the little conversation at Chatham barracks, young Osborne, to show that he would be as good as his word, prepared to go to town, thereby incurring Captain Dobbin's applause.

The next day young Osborne, to show Dobbin that he was as good as his word, prepared to go to town.


"I should have liked to make her a little present," Osborne said to his friend in confidence, "only I am quite out of cash until my father tips up."

"I should have liked to give her a little present," Osborne said, "only I am quite out of cash."


But Dobbin would not allow this good nature and generosity to be balked, and so accommodated Mr. Osborne with a few pound notes, which the latter took after a little faint scruple.

So Dobbin loaned Mr. Osborne a few pounds, which he took after a faint scruple.


And I dare say he would have bought something very handsome for Amelia; only, getting off the coach in Fleet Street, he was attracted by a handsome shirt-pin in a jeweller's window, which he could not resist; and having paid for that, had very little money to spare for indulging in any further exercise of kindness.

And I dare say he would have bought something very handsome for Amelia; only, getting off the coach in Fleet Street, he was attracted by a handsome shirt-pin in a jeweller's window, which he could not resist; and having paid for that, had very little money left.


Never mind: you may be sure it was not his presents Amelia wanted.


When he came to Russell Square, her face lighted up as if he had been sunshine.

When he came to Russell Square, her face lit up as if he had been sunshine.


The little cares, fears, tears, timid misgivings, sleepless fancies of I don't know how many days and nights, were forgotten, under one moment's influence of that familiar, irresistible smile.

The fears, tears, and sleepless fancies were forgotten.


He beamed on her from the drawing-room door--magnificent, with ambrosial whiskers, like a god.


Sambo, whose face as he announced Captain Osbin (having conferred a brevet rank on that young officer) blazed with a sympathetic grin, saw the little girl start, and flush, and jump up from her watching-place in the window; and Sambo retreated: and as soon as the door was shut, she went fluttering to Lieutenant George Osborne's heart as if it was the only natural home for her to nestle in.

Sambo saw the little girl start, and flush, and jump up from her watching-place in the window, as he announced Lieutenant Osborne; and she went fluttering to Osborne's heart as if it was the only natural home for her to nestle in.


The very finest tree in the whole forest, with the straightest stem, and the strongest arms, and the thickest foliage, wherein you choose to build and coo, may be marked, for what you know, and may be down with a crash ere long.


What an old, old simile that is, between man and timber!


In the meanwhile, George kissed her very kindly on her forehead and glistening eyes, and was very gracious and good; and she thought his diamond shirt-pin (which she had not known him to wear before) the prettiest ornament ever seen.

George kissed her kindly on her forehead, and was very gracious and good; and she thought his diamond shirt-pin (which she had not known him to wear before) the prettiest ornament ever seen.


The observant reader, who has marked our young Lieutenant's previous behaviour, and has preserved our report of the brief conversation which he has just had with Captain Dobbin, has possibly come to certain conclusions regarding the character of Mr. Osborne.

The observant reader may possibly come to certain conclusions regarding the character of Mr. Osborne.


Some cynical Frenchman has said that there are two parties to a love-transaction: the one who loves and the other who condescends to be so treated.

Some cynical Frenchman has said that in matters of love, there is the one who loves and the other who condescends to be loved.


Perhaps the love is occasionally on the man's side; perhaps on the lady's.


Perhaps some infatuated swain has ere this mistaken insensibility for modesty, dulness for maiden reserve, mere vacuity for sweet bashfulness, and a goose, in a word, for a swan.


Perhaps some beloved female subscriber has arrayed an ass in the splendour and glory of her imagination; admired his dulness as manly simplicity; worshipped his selfishness as manly superiority; treated his stupidity as majestic gravity, and used him as the brilliant fairy Titania did a certain weaver at Athens.


I think I have seen such comedies of errors going on in the world.


But this is certain, that Amelia believed her lover to be one of the most gallant and brilliant men in the empire: and it is possible Lieutenant Osborne thought so too.

But this is certain, that Amelia believed her lover to be one of the most gallant and brilliant men in the empire: and Lieutenant Osborne thought so too.


He was a little wild: how many young men are; and don't girls like a rake better than a milksop?

He was a little wild: but don't girls like a rake better than a milksop?


He hadn't sown his wild oats as yet, but he would soon: and quit the army now that peace was proclaimed; the Corsican monster locked up at Elba; promotion by consequence over; and no chance left for the display of his undoubted military talents and valour: and his allowance, with Amelia's settlement, would enable them to take a snug place in the country somewhere, in a good sporting neighbourhood; and he would hunt a little, and farm a little; and they would be very happy.

He would soon have sown his wild oats, and would quit the army now that peace was proclaimed, and Napoleon locked up at Elba, The chance of promotion and valour was over: and his allowance, with Amelia's settlement, would enable them to take a snug house in the country, in a good sporting neighbourhood; and he would hunt a little, and farm a little; and they would be very happy.


As for remaining in the army as a married man, that was impossible.


Fancy Mrs. George Osborne in lodgings in a county town; or, worse still, in the East or West Indies, with a society of officers, and patronized by Mrs. Major O'Dowd!

Fancy Mrs. George Osborne in the East or West Indies, with a society of officers, and patronized by Mrs. Major O'Dowd!


Amelia died with laughing at Osborne's stories about Mrs. Major O'Dowd.


He loved her much too fondly to subject her to that horrid woman and her vulgarities, and the rough treatment of a soldier's wife.

He loved her much too fondly to subject her to that horrid vulgar woman and the rough treatment of a soldier's wife.


He didn't care for himself--not he; but his dear little girl should take the place in society to which, as his wife, she was entitled: and to these proposals you may be sure she acceded, as she would to any other from the same author.

His dear little girl should take her rightful place in society. You may be sure she agreed to all these proposals, as she would to any that he made.


Holding this kind of conversation, and building numberless castles in the air (which Amelia adorned with all sorts of flower-gardens, rustic walks, country churches, Sunday schools, and the like; while George had his mind's eye directed to the stables, the kennel, and the cellar), this young pair passed away a couple of hours very pleasantly; and as the Lieutenant had only that single day in town, and a great deal of most important business to transact, it was proposed that Miss Emmy should dine with her future sisters-in-law.

Thus building castles in the air (which Amelia adorned with flower-gardens, rustic walks, Sunday schools, and the like; while George imagined the stables, the kennels, and the cellar), this young pair passed away a couple of hours very pleasantly.


He conducted her to his sisters; where he left her talking and prattling in a way that astonished those ladies, who thought that George might make something of her; and he then went off to transact his business.

When he took her to his sisters while he attended to business, he left her talking and prattling in a way that astonished those ladies, who thought that George might after all make something of her.
He then went off to transact his business.


In a word, he went out and ate ices at a pastry-cook's shop in Charing Cross; tried a new coat in Pall Mall; dropped in at the Old Slaughters', and called for Captain Cannon; played eleven games at billiards with the Captain, of which he won eight, and returned to Russell Square half an hour late for dinner, but in very good humour.

He ate ices at a pastry-cook's shop in Charing Cross; tried a new coat in Pall Mall; dropped in at the Old Slaughters' and played eleven games at billiards with Captain Cannon, of which he won eight, and returned to Russell Square half an hour late for dinner, but in very good humour.


When that gentleman came from the City, and was welcomed in the drawing-room by his daughters and the elegant Miss Wirt, they saw at once by his face--which was puffy, solemn, and yellow at the best of times--and by the scowl and twitching of his black eyebrows, that the heart within his large white waistcoat was disturbed and uneasy.

When that gentleman came from the City, and was welcomed in the drawing-room by his daughters and Miss Wirt, they saw at once by his solemn face and by his scowl and twitching black eyebrows that he was disturbed and uneasy.


When Amelia stepped forward to salute him, which she always did with great trembling and timidity, he gave a surly grunt of recognition, and dropped the little hand out of his great hirsute paw without any attempt to hold it there.

When Amelia stepped timidly forward to salute him, he gave a surly grunt of recognition, and


He looked round gloomily at his eldest daughter; who, comprehending the meaning of his look, which asked unmistakably, "Why the devil is she here?"

looked round gloomily at his eldest daughter; with a glance that meant, "Why the devil is she here?"


"George is in town, Papa; and has gone to the Horse Guards, and will be back to dinner."

"George is in town, Papa," said Miss Osborne; "and will be back to dinner."


I won't have the dinner kept waiting for him, Jane"; with which this worthy man lapsed into his particular chair, and then the utter silence in his genteel, well-furnished drawing-room was only interrupted by the alarmed ticking of the great French clock.

"I won't have the dinner kept waiting for him." This worthy man lapsed into his chair, in a silence only interrupted by the alarmed ticking of the great French clock.


When that chronometer, which was surmounted by a cheerful brass group of the sacrifice of Iphigenia, tolled five in a heavy cathedral tone, Mr. Osborne pulled the bell at his right hand--violently, and the butler rushed up.

When it tolled five in a heavy cathedral tone, Mr. Osborne pulled the bell at his right hand violently, and the butler rushed up.


"Mr. George isn't come in, sir," interposed the man.


A telegraphic communication of eyes passed between the other three ladies.

Glances passed between the other three ladies.


The obedient bell in the lower regions began ringing the announcement of the meal.

The bell in the lower regions began ringing in announcement of the meal.


The tolling over, the head of the family thrust his hands into the great tail-pockets of his great blue coat with brass buttons, and without waiting for a further announcement strode downstairs alone, scowling over his shoulder at the four females.

Without waiting, the head of the family strode downstairs, scowling over his shoulder at the four females.


asked one of the other, as they rose and tripped gingerly behind the sire.

asked one of the other, as they rose and tripped gingerly behind him.


"I suppose the funds are falling," whispered Miss Wirt; and so, trembling and in silence, this hushed female company followed their dark leader.

"I suppose the funds are falling," whispered Miss Wirt; and so, this hushed and trembling female company followed their dark leader


and took their places at the table in silence.


He growled out a blessing, which sounded as gruffly as a curse.

He growled out a blessing, which sounded as gruff as a curse.


The great silver dish-covers were removed.


Amelia trembled in her place, for she was next to the awful Osborne, and alone on her side of the table--the gap being occasioned by the absence of George.


says Mr. Osborne, clutching the ladle, fixing his eyes on her, in a sepulchral tone; and having helped her and the rest, did not speak for a while.

said Mr. Osborne; and having helped Amelia and the rest, did not speak for a while.


"Take Miss Sedley's plate away," at last he said.

"Take Miss Sedley's plate away," he said at last.


"She can't eat the soup - no more can I.


Take away the soup, Hicks, and to-morrow turn the cook out of the house, Jane."

Take it away, Hicks, and tomorrow turn the cook out of the house, Jane."


Having concluded his observations upon the soup, Mr. Osborne made a few curt remarks respecting the fish, also of a savage and satirical tendency, and cursed Billingsgate with an emphasis quite worthy of the place.

Mr. Osborne made a few savage remarks about the fish, and


Then he lapsed into silence, and swallowed sundry glasses of wine, looking more and more terrible, till a brisk knock at the door told of George's arrival when everybody began to rally.

then lapsed into silence, swallowing glasses of wine, and looking more and more terrible, till a brisk knock at the door told of George's arrival; when everybody began to rally.


General Daguilet had kept him waiting at the Horse Guards.


Give him anything - he didn't care what.


His good humour contrasted with his father's severity; and he rattled on unceasingly during dinner, to the delight of all--of one especially, who need not be mentioned.

His good humour contrasted with his father's severity; and he rattled on during dinner, to the delight of all, and of one especially.


As soon as the young ladies had discussed the orange and the glass of wine which formed the ordinary conclusion of the dismal banquets at Mr. Osborne's house, the signal to make sail for the drawing-room was given, and they all arose and departed.

Eventually the ladies arose and departed to the drawing-room.


Amelia hoped George would soon join them there.


She began playing some of his favourite waltzes (then newly imported) at the great carved-legged, leather-cased grand piano in the drawing-room overhead.

She began playing some of his favourite waltzes at the grand piano


He was deaf to the waltzes; they grew fainter and fainter; the discomfited performer left the huge instrument presently; and though her three friends performed some of the loudest and most brilliant new pieces of their repertoire, she did not hear a single note, but sate thinking, and boding evil.

The waltzes grew fainter and fainter; the performer left the piano; and though her three friends performed some of the loudest and most brilliant new pieces of their repertoire, she did not hear, but sat thinking, and boding evil.


Old Osborne's scowl, terrific always, had never before looked so deadly to her.

Old Osborne's scowl had never before looked so deadly to her.


His eyes followed her out of the room, as if she had been guilty of something.

His eyes had followed her out of the room, as if she was guilty of something.


When they brought her coffee, she started as though it were a cup of poison which Mr. Hicks, the butler, wished to propose to her.


They nurse and cuddle their presentiments, and make darlings of their ugliest thoughts, as they do of their deformed children.

They nurse their forebodings, and make darlings of their ugliest thoughts.


The gloom on the paternal countenance had also impressed George Osborne with anxiety.

His father's gloom had also made George Osborne anxious.


With such eyebrows, and a look so decidedly bilious, how was he to extract that money from the governor, of which George was consumedly in want?

How was he to extract that money he needed from the governor?


That was generally a successful means of cajoling the old gentleman.


"We never got such Madeira in the West Indies, sir, as yours.


Colonel Heavytop took off three bottles of that you sent me down, under his belt the other day."

Colonel Heavytop took off three bottles of that you sent me down, the other day."


"It stands me in eight shillings a bottle."


"Will you take six guineas a dozen for it, sir?"


"There's one of the greatest men in the kingdom wants some."


"When General Daguilet was at Chatham, sir, Heavytop gave him a breakfast, and asked me for some of the wine.


The General liked it just as well--wanted a pipe for the Commander-in-Chief.


He's his Royal Highness's right-hand man."


"It is devilish fine wine," said the Eyebrows, and they looked more good-humoured; and George was going to take advantage of this complacency, and bring the supply question on the mahogany, when the father, relapsing into solemnity, though rather cordial in manner, bade him ring the bell for claret.

"It is devilish fine wine," and he looked more good-humoured.


"And we'll see if that's as good as the Madeira, George, to which his Royal Highness is welcome, I'm sure.

"Ring the bell for the claret, George, and we'll see if that's as good as the Madeira.


And as we are drinking it, I'll talk to you about a matter of importance."

And while we are drinking it, I'll talk to you about a matter of importance."


Amelia heard the claret bell ringing as she sat nervously upstairs.

Amelia heard the bell ringing as she sat nervously upstairs.


She thought, somehow, it was a mysterious and presentimental bell.


Of the presentiments which some people are always having, some surely must come right.


"What I want to know, George," the old gentleman said, after slowly smacking his first bumper--"what I want to know is, how you and--ah--that little thing upstairs, are carrying on?"

"What I want to know, George," the old gentleman said, "is, how you and - ah - that little thing upstairs, are carrying on?"


"I think, sir, it is not hard to see," George said, with a self-satisfied grin.

"I think, sir, it is not hard to see," George said with a self-satisfied grin.


"Pretty clear, sir.--What capital wine!"


"Why, hang it, sir, don't push me too hard.


I--ah--I don't set up to be a lady-killer; but I do own that she's as devilish fond of me as she can be.

, but I do own that she's devilish fond of me."


"Why, sir, didn't you order me to marry her, and ain't I a good boy?"


Haven't our Papas settled it ever so long?"


Haven't I heard of your doings, sir, with Lord Tarquin, Captain Crawley of the Guards, the Honourable Mr. Deuceace and that set.

I've heard of your doings, sir, with Lord Tarquin, Captain Crawley of the Guards, and that set.


The old gentleman pronounced these aristocratic names with the greatest gusto.


Whenever he met a great man he grovelled before him, and my-lorded him as only a free-born Briton can do.


He came home and looked out his history in the Peerage: he introduced his name into his daily conversation; he bragged about his Lordship to his daughters.


He fell down prostrate and basked in him as a Neapolitan beggar does in the sun.


George was alarmed when he heard the names.

George was alarmed when he heard these names


He feared his father might have been informed of certain transactions at play.

, fearing his father might have been informed of certain transactions at play.


But the old moralist eased him by saying serenely:


"Well, well, young men will be young men.


And the comfort to me is, George, that living in the best society in England, as I hope you do; as I think you do; as my means will allow you to do--"

And the comfort to me is, George, that living in the best society in England, as my means allow you to do-"


"Thank you, sir," says George, making his point at once.

"Thank you, sir," said George, making his point at once.


"One can't live with these great folks for nothing; and my purse, sir, look at it"; and he held up a little token which had been netted by Amelia, and contained the very last of Dobbin's pound notes.

"One can't live with these great folks for nothing; and my purse, sir, look at it." He held up a little purse which had been netted by Amelia, and contained the very last of Dobbin's pound notes.


The British merchant's son shan't want, sir.


My guineas are as good as theirs, George, my boy; and I don't grudge 'em.


Call on Mr. Chopper as you go through the City to-morrow; he'll have something for you.

Call on Mr. Chopper as you go through the City tomorrow; he'll have something for you.


I don't grudge money when I know you're in good society, because I know that good society can never go wrong.


I was a humbly born man--but you have had advantages.

I was a humbly born man - but you have had advantages.


There's many of 'em who can't spend a dollar to your guinea, my boy.


And as for the pink bonnets (here from under the heavy eyebrows there came a knowing and not very pleasing leer)--why boys will be boys.

And as for the pink bonnets" (here there was a knowing and not very pleasant leer) "why, boys will be boys.


Only there's one thing I order you to avoid, which, if you do not, I'll cut you off with a shilling, by Jove; and that's gambling."

Only there's one thing I order you to avoid, or I'll cut you off with a shilling, by Jove; and that's gambling."


"But to return to the other business about Amelia: why shouldn't you marry higher than a stockbroker's daughter, George--that's what I want to know?"

"But to return to the other business about Amelia: why shouldn't you marry higher than a stockbroker's daughter, George?"


"It's a family business, sir," says George, cracking filberts.


"You and Mr. Sedley made the match a hundred years ago."


"I don't deny it; but people's positions alter, sir.


I don't deny that Sedley made my fortune, or rather put me in the way of acquiring, by my own talents and genius, that proud position, which, I may say, I occupy in the tallow trade and the City of London.

I don't deny that Sedley made my fortune, or rather put me in the way of acquiring, by my own talents, my high position in the tallow trade and the City of London.


I've shown my gratitude to Sedley; and he's tried it of late, sir, as my cheque-book can show.


I tell you in confidence I don't like the looks of Mr. Sedley's affairs.


My chief clerk, Mr. Chopper, does not like the looks of 'em, and he's an old file, and knows 'Change as well as any man in London.

My chief clerk, Mr. Chopper, does not like the looks of 'em, and he knows the Exchange as well as any man in London.


Hulker & Bullock are looking shy at him.


He's been dabbling on his own account I fear.


They say the Jeune Amelie was his, which was taken by the Yankee privateer Molasses.


And that's flat--unless I see Amelia's ten thousand down you don't marry her.

Unless I see Amelia's ten thousand down you don't marry her.


I'll have no lame duck's daughter in my family.


Pass the wine, sir--or ring for coffee."

Pass the wine, sir - or ring for coffee."


With which Mr. Osborne spread out the evening paper, and George knew from this signal that the colloquy was ended, and that his papa was about to take a nap.

Mr. Osborne spread out the evening paper, and George knew that the conversation was ended.


He hurried upstairs to Amelia in the highest spirits.


What was it that made him more attentive to her on that night than he had been for a long time--more eager to amuse her, more tender, more brilliant in talk?

What was it that made him more attentive and tender than he had been for a long time?


Was it that his generous heart warmed to her at the prospect of misfortune; or that the idea of losing the dear little prize made him value it more?


She lived upon the recollections of that happy evening for many days afterwards, remembering his words; his looks; the song he sang; his attitude, as he leant over her or looked at her from a distance.

She lived upon the recollections of that happy evening for many days afterwards, remembering his words and looks.


As it seemed to her, no night ever passed so quickly at Mr. Osborne's house before; and for once this young person was almost provoked to be angry by the premature arrival of Mr. Sambo with her shawl.

It seemed to her no night ever passed so quickly at Mr. Osborne's house before.


George came and took a tender leave of her the next morning; and then hurried off to the City, where he visited Mr. Chopper, his father's head man, and received from that gentleman a document which he exchanged at Hulker & Bullock's for a whole pocketful of money.

George took a tender leave of her the next morning; and then hurried off to the City, where he visited Mr. Chopper, his father's head clerk, and received a document which he exchanged at the bank for a pocketful of money.


As George entered the house, old John Sedley was passing out of the banker's parlour, looking very dismal.

As George entered the bank, old John Sedley was leaving, looking very dismal.


But his godson was much too elated to mark the worthy stockbroker's depression, or the dreary eyes which the kind old gentleman cast upon him.

But his godson was much too elated to notice the worthy stockbroker's depression.


Young Bullock did not come grinning out of the parlour with him as had been his wont in former years.


And as the swinging doors of Hulker, Bullock & Co. closed upon Mr. Sedley, Mr. Quill, the cashier (whose benevolent occupation it is to hand out crisp bank-notes from a drawer and dispense sovereigns out of a copper shovel), winked at Mr. Driver, the clerk at the desk on his right.

As the swinging doors of Hulker, Bullock & Co. closed upon Mr. Sedley, Mr. Quill the cashier winked at Mr. Driver, the clerk at the next desk.


"Mr. George Osborne, sir, how will you take it?"


George crammed eagerly a quantity of notes into his pockets, and paid Dobbin fifty pounds that very evening at mess.

George eagerly crammed notes into his pockets, and later paid Dobbin fifty pounds at mess.


That very evening Amelia wrote him the tenderest of long letters.

That evening Amelia wrote him the tenderest of long letters.


Her heart was overflowing with tenderness, but it still foreboded evil.

Her heart was overflowing, but it still foreboded evil.


What was the cause of Mr. Osborne's dark looks?


Had any difference arisen between him and her papa?


Her poor papa returned so melancholy from the City, that all were alarmed about him at home--in fine, there were four pages of loves and fears and hopes and forebodings.

Her poor papa returned so melancholy from the City, that all were alarmed about him at home. In all, there were four pages of loves and fears and hopes and forebodings.


How fond she is of me," George said, as he perused the missive--"and Gad, what a headache that mixed punch has given me!"

How fond she is of me," George said, as he read the letter; "and Gad, what a headache that punch has given me!"


To obviate the danger of this threat being fulfilled, Mr. Linton commissioned me to take the boy home early, on Catherine's pony; and, said he-"As we shall now have no influence over his destiny, good or bad, you must say nothing of where he is gone to my daughter: she cannot associate with him hereafter, and it is better for her to remain in ignorance of his proximity; lest she should be restless, and anxious to visit the Heights.

To stop the danger of this threat being fulfilled, Mr. Linton told me to take the boy to Wuthering Heights early, on Catherine's pony. 'Do not tell my daughter where he is gone,' he said; 'it is better for her to remain in ignorance, lest she should be anxious to visit the Heights.


Merely tell her his father sent for him suddenly, and he has been obliged to leave us."

Tell her Linton's father sent for him suddenly, and he has been obliged to leave us.'


Linton was very reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o'clock, and astonished to be informed that he must prepare for further travelling; but I softened off the matter by stating that he was going to spend some time with his father, Mr. Heathcliff, who wished to see him so much, he did not like to defer the pleasure till he should recover from his late journey.

Linton was very reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o'clock, and astonished to be informed that he must prepare for further travelling. I told him he was going to spend some time with his father, Mr. Heathcliff, who wished to see him.


"He lives a little distance from the Grange," I replied; "just beyond those hills: not so far, but you may walk over here when you get hearty.

'He lives just beyond those hills,' I replied; 'but you may walk over here when you get hearty.


And you should be glad to go home, and to see him.

You should be glad to go home, and to see him.


You must try to love him, as you did your mother, and then he will love you."

You must try to love him, and then he will love you.'


"But why have I not heard of him before?"

'But why have I not heard of him before?'


"Why didn't mamma and he live together, as other people do?"

'Why didn't mamma and he live together, as other people do?'


"He had business to keep him in the north," I answered, "and your mother's health required her to reside in the south."

'He had business to keep him in the north,' I answered, 'and your mother's health required her to reside in the south.'


"And why didn't mamma speak to me about him?"

'And why didn't mamma speak to me about him?'


"She often talked of uncle, and I learnt to love him long ago.


"Oh, all children love their parents," I said.

'Oh, all children love their parents,' I said.


"Your mother, perhaps, thought you would want to be with him if she mentioned him often to you.

'Your mother, perhaps, thought you would want to be with him if she mentioned him often to you.


An early ride on such a beautiful morning is much preferable to an hour's more sleep."


"Is _she_ to go with us," he demanded, "the little girl I saw yesterday?"

'Is the little girl to go with us?' he demanded.


"No, I shall be your companion there," I said.


Linton sank back on his pillow and fell into a brown study.


"I won't go without uncle," he cried at length: "I can't tell where you mean to take me."


I attempted to persuade him of the naughtiness of showing reluctance to meet his father; still he obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, and I had to call for my master's assistance in coaxing him out of bed.

, and obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, until I had to call for my master's help.


The poor thing was finally got off, with several delusive assurances that his absence should be short: that Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him, and other promises, equally ill-founded, which I invented and reiterated at intervals throughout the way.

He was assured that his absence should be short, and that Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him; and I invented other promises, equally ill-founded, on the way.


The pure heather-scented air, the bright sunshine, and the gentle canter of Minny, relieved his despondency after a while.

The heather-scented air and the bright sunshine made him less despondent after a while, and


He began to put questions concerning his new home, and its inhabitants, with greater interest and liveliness.


"Is Wuthering Heights as pleasant a place as Thrushcross Grange?"

'Is Wuthering Heights as pleasant as Thrushcross Grange?'


he inquired, turning to take a last glance into the valley, whence a light mist mounted and formed a fleecy cloud on the skirts of the blue.


"It is not so buried in trees," I replied, "and it is not quite so large, but you can see the country beautifully all round; and the air is healthier for you-fresher and drier.

'It is not so buried in trees,' I replied, 'nor so large, but you can see the country beautifully all round; and the air is healthier - fresher and drier.


You will, perhaps, think the building old and dark at first; though it is a respectable house: the next best in the neighbourhood.

You may think the building old and dark at first; but it is a respectable house.


And you will have such nice rambles on the moors.


Hareton Earnshaw-that is, Miss Cathy's other cousin, and so yours in a manner-will show you all the sweetest spots; and you can bring a book in fine weather, and make a green hollow your study; and, now and then, your uncle may join you in a walk: he does, frequently, walk out on the hills."

Hareton Earnshaw - Miss Cathy's other cousin - will show you all the sweetest spots; and you can bring a book in fine weather; and your uncle may sometimes join you in a walk.'


"He's as young," said I; "but he has black hair and eyes, and looks sterner; and he is taller and bigger altogether.

'He's as young,' said I; 'but he has black hair and eyes, and looks sterner; and he is taller and bigger altogether.


He'll not seem to you so gentle and kind at first, perhaps, because it is not his way: still, mind you, be frank and cordial with him; and naturally he'll be fonder of you than any uncle, for you are his own."

He'll not seem to you so gentle and kind at first, perhaps. But be frank and cordial with him, and he'll be fonder of you than any uncle, for you are his own.'


"Not much," I answered: not a morsel, I thought, surveying with regret the white complexion and slim frame of my companion, and his large languid eyes-his mother's eyes, save that, unless a morbid touchiness kindled them a moment, they had not a vestige of her sparkling spirit.

'Not much,' I answered, surveying with regret his white complexion and large languid eyes - his mother's eyes, but without a trace of her sparkling spirit.


"How strange that he should never come to see mamma and me!"

'How strange that he should never come to see mamma and me!'


I remember not a single thing about him!"


"Why, Master Linton," said I, "three hundred miles is a great distance; and ten years seem very different in length to a grown-up person compared with what they do to you.

'Why, Master Linton,' said I, 'three hundred miles is a great distance.


It is probable Mr. Heathcliff proposed going from summer to summer, but never found a convenient opportunity; and now it is too late.

Mr. Heathcliff probably meant to come, but never found an opportunity.


Don't trouble him with questions on the subject: it will disturb him, for no good."

Don't question him on the subject: it will disturb him for no good.'


The boy was fully occupied with his own cogitations for the remainder of the ride, till we halted before the farmhouse garden-gate.


I watched to catch his impressions in his countenance.


He surveyed the carved front and low-browed lattices, the straggling gooseberry-bushes and crooked firs, with solemn intentness, and then shook his head: his private feelings entirely disapproved of the exterior of his new abode.

him as he surveyed the carved lattices, the straggling gooseberry-bushes and crooked firs, with solemn intentness, and then shook his head, as if he disapproved of his new home.


But he had sense to postpone complaining: there might be compensation within.


Before he dismounted, I went and opened the door.


It was half-past six; the family had just finished breakfast: the servant was clearing and wiping down the table.

The family had just finished breakfast: the servant was clearing the table.


Joseph stood by his master's chair telling some tale concerning a lame horse; and Hareton was preparing for the hayfield.

Joseph stood by his master's chair; and Hareton was preparing for the hayfield.


"I feared I should have to come down and fetch my property myself.

'I feared I should have to come down and fetch my property myself.


He got up and strode to the door: Hareton and Joseph followed in gaping curiosity.

He got up and strode to the door: Hareton and Joseph followed.


Poor Linton ran a frightened eye over the faces of the three.

Poor Linton ran a frightened eye over their faces.


"Sure-ly," said Joseph after a grave inspection, "he's swopped wi' ye, Maister, an' yon's his lass!"

'Surely,' said Joseph after a grave inspection, 'he's swopped wi' ye, Master, an' yon's his lass!'


Heathcliff, having stared his son into an ague of confusion, uttered a scornful laugh.


"Hav'n't they reared it on snails and sour milk, Nelly?

'Haven't they reared it on snails and sour milk, Nelly?


but that's worse than I expected-and the devil knows I was not sanguine!"

but that's worse than I expected - and the devil knows I was not sanguine!'


I bid the trembling and bewildered child get down, and enter.

I told the trembling and bewildered child to enter.


He did not thoroughly comprehend the meaning of his father's speech, or whether it were intended for him: indeed, he was not yet certain that the grim, sneering stranger was his father.

He did not understand his father's speech: indeed, he was not yet certain that the grim, sneering stranger was his father.


But he clung to me with growing trepidation; and on Mr. Heathcliff's taking a seat and bidding him "come hither" he hid his face on my shoulder and wept.

But he clung to me, and on Mr. Heathcliff's bidding him 'come here' he hid his face on my shoulder and wept.


said Heathcliff, stretching out a hand and dragging him roughly between his knees, and then holding up his head by the chin.

said Heathcliff, dragging him roughly between his knees, and then holding up his head by the chin.