Уильям Теккерей - Ярмарка тщеславия / Vanity Fair Страница 4

Amelia was asking Captain Dobbin about Osborne all the time. He never hurried to visit her preferring to spend some time on games and drinking. Once, after three days of absence, Miss Amelia put on her bonnet, and actually invaded the Osborne house. “What! leave our brother to come to us?” said the young ladies. “Have you had a quarrel, Amelia? Do tell us!” No, indeed, there had been no quarrel. “Who could quarrel with him?” says she, with her eyes filled with tears. She only came over to – to see her dear friends; they had not met for so long. And this day she was so perfectly stupid and awkward, that the Misses Osborne and their governess, who stared after her as she went sadly away, wondered more than ever what George could see in poor little Amelia.

Osborne’s reputation was prodigious amongst the young men of the regiment. He was adored by the men. There were other people besides Amelia who worshipped him. Captain Dobbin on his part adored Amelia. He reproached John bitterly for paying little attention to the charming creature she was.

At the same time Mr. Sedley’s affairs were not that successful as due to the war the funds were falling. Still he presumed his daughter’s happiness to be stuck with Osborne and he promised the latter 10 thousand pounds to proceed with the marriage what Osborne happily promised.

Rawdon Crawley sent up his name by the sulky femme de chambre,[13] and Miss Crawley’s new companion put a little hand into his as he stepped forward eagerly to meet her. Miss Crawley became quite cheerful, to the admiration of the doctors when they visited her, who usually found this worthy woman of the world under the depression and terror of death.

Captain Crawley came every day, and received bulletins from Miss Rebecca respecting his aunt’s health. The causes which had led to the illness of Miss Crawley, and her departure from her brother’s house in the country, were of such an unromantic nature that they are hardly fit to be explained in this sentimental novel.

For how is it possible to hint of a delicate female, living in good society, that she ate and drank too much? The attack was so sharp that all the family were in a fever of expectation regarding the will, and Rawdon Crawley was making sure of at least forty thousand pounds before the commencement of the London season.

Becky Sharp took the trouble of assisting the old lady. During the illness she was never out of temper; always alert; she slept light, having a perfectly clear conscience. Her face might be a trifle paler, and the circles round her eyes a little blacker than usual; but whenever she came out from the sick-room she was always smiling, fresh, and neat. The Captain thought so, and raved about her. The shaft of love had penetrated his soul.

He confided his secret to his aunt. She warned him Rawdon must not trifle with her affections, though – dear Miss Crawley would never pardon him for that; for she, too, was quite overcome by the little governess, and loved Sharp like a daughter. Rawdon must go away – go back to his regiment and naughty London, and not play with a poor artless girl’s feelings.

When he saw Rebecca alone, he rallied her about his father’s attachment in his graceful way. She flung up her head scornfully, looked him full in the face, and said, “Well, suppose he is fond of me. I know he is, and others too. You don’t think I am afraid of him, Captain Crawley? You don’t suppose I can’t defend my own honour,” said the little woman, looking as stately as a queen.

Well, meanwhile Becky was the greatest comfort and convenience to Miss Crawley, and she gave her a couple of new gowns, and an old necklace and shawl. When Miss Crawley was well enough to drive out, Becky accompanied her. And amongst the drives which they took, whither, of all places in the world they went to Russell Square, Bloomsbury, and the house of John Sedley. When the two girls met, and flew into each other’s arms, Rebecca performed her part of the embrace with the most perfect energy. Poor little Amelia blushed as she kissed her friend, and thought she had been guilty of something very like coldness towards her.

Their first interview was but a very short one. Miss Crawley was fairly captivated by the sweet blushing face of the young lady who came forward so timidly and so gracefully to pay her respects to the protector of her friend.

“My dear Sharp, your young friend is charming. Send for her to Park Lane, do you hear?” Miss Crawley had a good taste. She talked of Amelia half a dozen times that day. She mentioned her to Rawdon Crawley.

Of course, on this Rebecca instantly stated that Amelia was engaged to be married.

Amelia visited Rebecca in her present-day home. As Rebecca was shawling her in an upper apartment, where these two friends had an opportunity for a little of secret talking, Amelia, coming up to Rebecca, and taking her two little hands in hers, said, “Rebecca, I see it all.” Rebecca kissed her. And regarding this delightful secret, not one syllable more was said by either of the young women. But it was destined to come out before long.

Some short period after the above events, and Miss Rebecca Sharp still remaining at her patroness’s house in Park Lane, Sir Pitt was a widower again.

The news of Lady Crawley’s death provoked no more grief or comment than might have been expected in Miss Crawley’s family circle. “I suppose I must put off my party for the 3rd,” Miss Crawley said; and added, after a pause, “I hope my brother will have the decency not to marry again.”

On the morrow, as Rebecca was gazing from the window, she startled Miss Crawley, who was placidly occupied with a French novel, by crying out in an alarmed tone, “Here’s Sir Pitt, Ma’am!”

“My dear, I can’t see him. I won’t see him,” cried out Miss Crawley, and resumed the novel.

“She’s too ill to see you, sir,” Rebecca said, tripping down to Sir Pitt.

“So much the better,” Sir Pitt answered. “I want to see YOU, Miss Becky. Come along with me into the parlour,” and they entered that apartment together.

“I want you back at Queen’s Crawley, Miss,” the baronet said, fixing his eyes upon her.

“I hope to come soon,” she said in a low voice, “as soon as Miss Crawley is better – and return to – to the dear children.”

“You’ve said so these three months, Becky,” replied Sir Pitt. “Will you come back? Yes or no?”

“I daren’t – I don’t think – it would be right – to be alone – with you, sir,” Becky said, seemingly in great agitation.

“I say again, I want you,” Sir Pitt said, thumping the table. “I can’t get on without you. The house all goes wrong. It’s not the same place. You MUST come back. Do come back. Dear Becky, do come.”

“Come – as what, sir?” Rebecca gasped out.

“Come as Lady Crawley, if you like,” the Baronet said.

“Oh, Sir Pitt!” Rebecca said, very much moved.

“Say yes, Becky,” Sir Pitt continued. “I’m an old man, but a good one. I’ll make you happy.”

Rebecca wept some of the most genuine tears that ever fell from her eyes.

“Oh, Sir Pitt!” she said. “Oh, sir – I–I’m married ALREADY.”

8

“Generosity be hanged![14]” Sir Pitt roared out. “Who is it to, then, you’re married? Where was it?”

“Let me come back with you to the country, sir! Let me watch over you as faithfully as ever! Don’t, don’t separate me from dear Queen’s Crawley!”

“The feller has left you, has he?” the Baronet said, beginning, as he fancied, to comprehend. “Well, Becky – come back if you like.

“Oh, sir! it would be the pride of my life to go back to Queen’s Crawley, and take care of the children, and of you as formerly, when you said you were pleased with the services of your little Rebecca. I can’t be your wife, sir; let me – let me be your daughter.” Saying which, Rebecca went down on HER knees in a most tragical way.

Miss Crawley was astonished by Becky’s rejection of Sir Pitt. “Nonsense, my dear, you would never have refused him had there not been someone else in the case,” Miss Crawley said, coming to her point at once. “Tell me the private reasons. There is someone; who is it that has touched your heart?”

Rebecca cast down her eyes. “You have guessed right, dear lady,” she said.

“My poor dear child,” cried Miss Crawley, who was always quite ready to be sentimental, “Tell me all, and let me console you.”

“I wish you could, dear Madam,” Rebecca said in the same tearful tone. And she laid her head upon Miss Crawley’s shoulder and wept there so naturally that the old lady, surprised into sympathy, embraced her with an almost maternal kindness. Rebecca wrote a letter later that day promising to her recipient that she would make the Old Miss Crawley adopt her and provide them a happy life and inheritance.

And the person who used to fetch these letters was indeed no other than Captain Rawdon Crawley.

9

When, then, Becky told the Captain, that the great crisis was near, and the time for action had arrived, Rawdon expressed himself as ready to act under her orders. They rented a flat not far from Miss Crawley. And soon came the day when Rebecca eloped leaving a letter in which she heartedly explained the truth. Old Miss Crawley and Sir Pitt were infuriated to learn that the happy husband was their Rawdon.

The old aunt was long in “coming-to.”[15] A month had elapsed. Rawdon was denied the door, his letters were sent back unopened. Miss Crawley never stirred.

Still Rebecca was in a good mood buying things for her home and being a good wife to her captain. One day they went to an auction at a rather familiar house looking for a piano. The sale was at the old house in Russell Square, where we passed some evenings together at the beginning of this story.

Good old John Sedley was a ruined man. His name had been proclaimed as a defaulter on the Stock Exchange, and his bankruptcy and commercial extermination followed. They had to leave their house and move to a modest one. Amelia was severely unhappy. When the great crash came – the announcement of ruin, and the departure from Russell Square, and the declaration that all was over between her and George – all over between her and love, her and happiness, her and faith in the world, Amelia took the news with great sadness and patience. To death she looked with inexpressible longing. Then, she thought, I shall always be able to follow him.

Captain Dobbin couldn’t stay away from her troubles. He bought a piano at the auction and brought it to Amelia. He spoke to her and comforted her. Dobbin assured Amelia that the piano was the farewell present from Osborne.

Three days afterwards, Dobbin found Osborne in his room at the barracks.

“She – she’s sent me back some things I gave her. Look here!” There was a little packet directed in the well-known hand to Captain George Osborne, and some things lying about – a ring, a silver knife he had bought, as a boy, for her at a fair; a gold chain, and a locket with hair in it.

“It’s all over,” said he, with a groan of sickening remorse. “Look, Will, you may read it if you like.”

There was a little letter of a few lines, to which he pointed, which said:

My papa has ordered me to return to you these presents, which you made in happier days to me; and I am to write to you for the last time. Farewell. I pray God to strengthen me to bear this, and to bless you always. A. I shall often play upon the piano – your piano. It was like you to send it.

Dobbin was very soft-hearted. The idea of Amelia broken-hearted and lonely tore that good-natured soul. And he broke out into an emotion. He swore that Amelia was an angel.

“Where are they?” Osborne asked, after a long talk, and a long pause.

Dobbin knew. He had not merely sent the piano; but had written a note to Mrs. Sedley, and asked permission to come and see her. When Osborne heard that his friend had found her, he made hot and anxious inquiries regarding the poor child. How was she? How did she look? What did she say? His comrade took his hand, and looked him in the face.

“George, she’s dying,” William Dobbin said – and could speak no more.

Four hours after the talk between Dobbin and Osborne, the servant-maid came into Amelia’s room.

“Miss Emmy,” said the girl.

“I’m coming,” Emmy said, not looking round.

“There’s a message,” the maid went on. “There’s something – somebody – sure, here’s a new letter for you – don’t be reading them old ones anymore.” And she gave her a letter, which Emmy took, and read.

“I must see you,” the letter said. “Dearest Emmy – dearest love – dearest wife, come to me.”

George and her mother were outside, waiting.

When Captain Dobbin came back in the afternoon to these people – which he did with a great deal of sympathy for them – it did his heart good to see how Amelia had grown young again – how she laughed, and chirped, and sang familiar old songs at the piano, which were only interrupted by the bell from without proclaiming Mr. Sedley’s return from the City, before whom George received a signal to retreat.

Beyond the first smile of recognition Miss Sedley did not once notice Dobbin during his visit.[16] But he was content, so that he saw her happy; and thankful to have been the means of making her so. Without knowing how, Captain William Dobbin found himself the great promoter, arranger, and manager of the match between George Osborne and Amelia. But for him it never would have taken place: he could not but confess as much to himself, and smiled rather bitterly as he thought that he of all men in the world should be the person upon whom the care of this marriage had fallen. He confirmed her father to give his consent to the marriage, he checked on Osborne and his affairs. He was content, so that he saw her happy; and thankful to have been the means of making her so.

10

While George Osborne’s good feelings, and his good friend and genius, Dobbin, were carrying back the truant to Amelia’s feet, George’s parent and sisters were arranging the splendid match for him, which they never dreamed he would resist: Miss Schwarz and her great fortune. Old Osborne thought she would be a great match, too, for his son. He should leave the army; he should go into Parliament; he should cut a figure in the fashion and in the state. This imperative hint disturbed George a good deal. He was in the very first enthusiasm and delight of his second courtship of Amelia, which was inexpressibly sweet to him.

Miss Schwarz did her best to appear in Russel Square. Whenever there was a chance of meeting George, that simple and good-natured young woman was quite in a hurry to see her dear Misses Osborne.

The day after George had his hint from his father, and a short time before the hour of dinner, he was in the drawing-room in a very becoming and perfectly natural attitude of melancholy. He came home to find his sisters there, and honest Swartz in her favourite amber-coloured satin.

The sisters began to play the piano. “Stop that thing,” George howled out in a fury from the sofa. “It makes me mad. You play us something, Miss Swartz, do. Sing something.”

“I can sing ‘Fluvy du Tajy,’” Swartz said, in a meek voice, “if I had the words.”