Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 254: what you’re looking at

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24 The dawn is up—the guest is gone, The cottage hearth is blazing still ; Heaven pity “all poor wanderers lone! Hark to the wind upon the hill! It was the sentiment of the before- -men- tioned words, ‘* When I’m gone,” over again. As she came to the last words, Miss Sharp’s ‘¢deep-toned voice faltered.”” Every body felt the allusion to her departure, and to her hapless orphan state. Joseph Sedley, who was fond of music, and soft-hearted, was in a state of ravishment during the performance of the song, and profoundly touched at its conclusion. If he had had the courage ; if George and Miss Sedley had remained, ac- cording to the former's proposal, in the farther room, Joseph Sedley’s bachelorhood would have been at an end, and this work would never have been written. But at the close of the ditty, Rebecca quitted the piano, and giving her hand to Amelia, walked away into the front drawing-room twilight; and, at this moment, Mr. Sambo made his ap- pearance with a tray, containing sandwiches, jellies, and some glittering glasses and de- canters, on which Joseph Sedley’s attention was immediately fixed. When the parents of the house of Sedley returned from their dinner-party, they found the young people so busyin talking, that they had not heard the arrival of the carriage, and Mr. Joseph was in the act of saying, ‘‘ My dear Miss Sharp, one little tea-spoonful of jelly to recruit you after your immense — your— your delightful exertions.” ‘‘ Bravo, Jos!’ said Mr. Sedley ; on hear- ing the bantering of which well-known voice, Jos instantly relapsed into an alarmed silence, and quickly took his departure. He did not lie awake all night thinking whether or not he was in love with Miss Sharp; the passion of love never interfered with the appetite or the slumber of Mr. Joseph Sedley ; but he thought to himself how delightful it would be to hear such songs as those after Cut- cherry—what a distinguée girl she was— how she could speak French better than the governor-general’s lady herself — and what a sensation she would make at the Calcutta balls. ‘It’s evident the poor devil’s in love with me,” thought he. ‘She is just as rich as most of the girls who come out to India. I might go farther, and fare worse, egad !” And in these meditations he fell asleep. How Miss Sharp lay awake, thinking, will he come or not to-morrow? need not be told here. ‘To-morrow came, and, as sure as fate, Mr. Joseph Sedley made his appear- ance before luncheon. He had never been. known before to confer such an honor on- Russell-square. VANITY FAIMN. work. As Joe’s buggy drove up, and while. after his usual thundering knock and pom- pous bustle at the door, the collector of Boggley Wollah labored up stairs to the drawing-room, knowing glances were tele- graphed between Osborne and Miss Sedley, and the pair, smiling archly, looked at Re- becca, who actually blushed as she bent her fair ringlets over her netting. How her heart beat as Joseph appeared — Joseph, puffing from the stair-case in shining creak- ing boots—Joseph, in a new waistcoat, red with heat and nervousness, and blushing be- hind his wadded neckcloth. It was a ner- vous moment for all; and as for Amelia, I think she was more frightened than even the people most concerned. Sambo, who flung open the door and an- nounced Mr. Joseph, followed grinning, in the collector’s rear, and bearing two hand- some nosegays of flowers, which the monster had actually had the gallantry to purchase in Covent Garden Market that morning—they were not as big as the haystacks which ladies carry about with them nowadays, in cones of filagree paper; but the young women were delighted with the gift, as Joseph pre- sented one to each, with an exceedingly solemn and clumsy bow. ‘¢ Bravo, Jos!’ cried Osborne. “Thank you, dear Joseph,” said Amelia, quite ready to kiss her brother, if he were so minded. (And I think for a kiss from such a dear creature as Amelia, I would purchase all Mr. Lee’s conservatories out of hand.) ‘“‘O heavenly, heavenly flowers !’’ exclaim- ed Miss Sharp, and smelt them delicately, and held them to her bosom, and cast up her eyes to the ceiling, in an ecstasy of admiration. Perhaps she just looked first into the bouquet, to see whether there was a billet-douxr hidden among the flowers ; but there was no letter. ‘‘ Do they talk the language of flowers at Boggley Wollah, Sedley ?” asked Osborne, laughing. ‘‘TLanguage of fiddlestick !’? replied the sentimental youth. ‘ Bought ‘em at Na- than’s; very glad you like ’em; and eh, Amelia, my dear, I bought a pine-apple at the same time, which I gave to Sambo. Let’s have it for tiffin; very cool and nice this hot weather.’’ Rebecca said she had never tasted a pine, and longed beyond every thing to taste one. So the conversation went on. I don’t know on what pretext Osborne left the room, or why, presently, Amelia went away, per- haps to superintend the slicing of the pine- ‘apple; but Jos was left alone with Rebecca, a aa George Osborne was some- | who had resumed her work, and the green how there already (sadly ‘ putting out’, silk and the shining needles were quivering Amelia, who was writing to her twelve dearest friends at Chiswick Mall), and Re- | becca was employed upon ber yesterday’s rapidly under her white, slender fingers. ‘What a beautiful, byoo-cotiful song that Was you mi last night, dear Miss Sharp,” CONNIE AOC <SuGO