and he refuses me. Am I wrong? Is the quarrel of my making? What do I seek but his good, for which I've been toiling like a convict ever since he was born? Nobody can say there's anything selfish in me. Let him come back. I say, here's my hand. I say, forget and forgive. As for marrying now, it's out of the question. Let him and Miss S. make it up, and make out the marriage afterwards, when he comes back a Colonel; for he shall be a Colonel, by G he shall, if money can do it. I'm glad you've brought him round. I know it's you Dobbin. You've took him out of many a scrape before. Let him come. I shan't be hard. Come along, and dine in Russell Square to-day: both of you. The old shop, the old hour. You'll find a neck of venison, and no questions asked."
This praise and confidence smote Dobbin's heart very keenly. Every moment the colloquy continued in this tone, he felt more and more guilty. "Sir," said he, "I fear you deceive yourself. I am sure you do. George is much too high-minded a man ever to marry for money. A threat on your part that you would disinherit him in case of disobedience would only be followed by resistance on his."
"Why, hang it, man, you don't call offering him eight or ten thousand a year, threatening him?" Mr. Osborne said, with still provoking good humour. "'Gad, if Miss S. will have me, I'm her man. I aint particular about a shade or so of tawny." And the old gentleman gave his knowing grin, and coarse laugh.
"You forget, Sir, previous engagements into which Captain Osborne had entered," the ambassador said, gravely.
"What engagements? What the devil do you mean? You don't mean," Mr. Osborne continued, gathering wrath and astonishment as the thought now first came upon him—you don't mean that he's such a d fool as to be still hankering after that swindling old bankrupt's daughter? You've not come here for to make me suppose that he wants to marry her? Marry her, that is a good one. My son and heir marry a beggar's girl out of a gutter. D him, if he does, let him buy a broom and sweep a crossing. She was always dangling and ogling after him,' I recollect now; and I've no doubt she was put on by her old sharper of a father."
"Mr. Sedley was your very good friend, Sir," Dobbin interposed, almost pleased at finding himself growing angry. "Time was you called him better names than rogue and swindler. The match was of your making. George had not right to play fast and loose."
"Fast and loose!" howled out old Osborne. "Fast and loose! Why, hang me, those are the very words my gentleman used himself when he gave himself airs, last Thursday was a fortnight, and talked about the British army to his father who made him. What, it's you who have been a setting of him up—is it? and my service to you, Captain. It's you who want to introduce beggars into my family. Thank you for nothing, Captain. Marry her indeed—he, he! why should he? I warrant you she'd go to him fast enough without."
"Sir," said Dobbin, starting up in undisguised anger; "no man shall abuse that lady in my hearing, and you least of all."
"O, you're a going to call me out, are you? Stop, let me ring the
