"Where are they?" Osborne asked, after a long talk, and a long pause--and, in truth, with no little shame at thinking that he had taken no steps to follow her."Where are they? There's no address to the note."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--and he had seen her, and Amelia too, yesterday, before he came down to Chatham; and, what is more, he had brought that farewell letter and packet which had so moved them.
The good-natured fellow had found Mrs.Sedley only too willing to receive him, and greatly agitated by the arrival of the piano, which, as she conjectured, MUST have come from George, and was a signal of amity on his part.Captain Dobbin did not correct this error of the worthy lady, but listened to all her story of complaints and misfortunes with great sympathy--condoled with her losses and privations, and agreed in reprehending the cruel conduct of Mr.Osborne towards his first benefactor.
When she had eased her overflowing bosom somewhat, and poured forth many of her sorrows, he had the courage to ask actually to see Amelia, who was above in her room as usual, and whom her mother led trembling downstairs.
Her appearance was so ghastly, and her look of despair so pathetic, that honest William Dobbin was frightened as he beheld it; and read the most fatal forebodings in that pale fixed face.After sitting in his company a minute or two, she put the packet into his hand, and said, "Take this to Captain Osborne, if you please, and--and Ihope he's quite well--and it was very kind of you to come and see us--and we like our new house very much.
And I--I think I'll go upstairs, Mamma, for I'm not very strong." And with this, and a curtsey and a smile, the poor child went her way.The mother, as she led her up, cast back looks of anguish towards Dobbin.The good fellow wanted no such appeal.He loved her himself too fondly for that.Inexpressible grief, and pity, and terror pursued him, and he came away as if he was a criminal after seeing 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.
There was a buxom Irish servant-girl, who performed all the duties of the little house where the Sedley family had found refuge: and this girl had in vain, on many previous days, striven to give Amelia aid or consolation.
Emmy was much too sad to answer, or even to be aware of the attempts the other was making in her favour.
Four hours after the talk between Dobbin and Osborne, this servant-maid came into Amelia's room, where she sate as usual, brooding silently over her letters--her little treasures.The girl, smiling, and looking arch and happy, made many trials to attract poor Emmy's attention, who, however, took no heed of her.
"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 any more." 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 until she had read the letter.
