The day after the meeting at the play-table, Jos had himself arrayedwith unusual care and splendour, and without thinking it necessary tosay a word to any member of his family regarding the occurrences of theprevious night, or asking for their company in his walk, he salliedforth at an early hour, and was presently seen making inquiries at thedoor of the Elephant Hotel. In consequence of the fetes the house wasfull of company, the tables in the street were already surrounded bypersons smoking and drinking the national small-beer, the public roomswere in a cloud of smoke, and Mr. Jos having, in his pompous way, andwith his clumsy German, made inquiries for the person of whom he was insearch, was directed to the very top of the house, above thefirst-floor rooms where some travelling pedlars had lived, and wereexhibiting their jewellery and brocades; above the second-floorapartments occupied by the etat major of the gambling firm; above thethird-floor rooms, tenanted by the band of renowned Bohemian vaultersand tumblers; and so on to the little cabins of the roof, where, amongstudents, bagmen, small tradesmen, and country-folks come in for thefestival, Becky had found a little nest--as dirty a little refuge asever beauty lay hid in.

Becky liked the life. She was at home with everybody in the place,pedlars, punters, tumblers, students and all. She was of a wild, rovingnature, inherited from father and mother, who were both Bohemians, bytaste and circumstance; if a lord was not by, she would talk to hiscourier with the greatest pleasure; the din, the stir, the drink, thesmoke, the tattle of the Hebrew pedlars, the solemn, braggart ways ofthe poor tumblers, the sournois talk of the gambling-table officials,the songs and swagger of the students, and the general buzz and hum ofthe place had pleased and tickled the little woman, even when her luckwas down and she had not wherewithal to pay her bill. How pleasant wasall the bustle to her now that her purse was full of the money whichlittle Georgy had won for her the night before!

As Jos came creaking and puffing up the final stairs, and wasspeechless when he got to the landing, and began to wipe his face andthen to look for No. 92, the room where he was directed to seek for theperson he wanted, the door of the opposite chamber, No. 90, was open,and a student, in jack-boots and a dirty schlafrock, was lying on thebed smoking a long pipe; whilst another student in long yellow hair anda braided coat, exceeding smart and dirty too, was actually on hisknees at No. 92, bawling through the keyhole supplications to theperson within.

"Go away," said a well-known voice, which made Jos thrill, "I expectsomebody; I expect my grandpapa. He mustn't see you there."

"Angel Englanderinn!" bellowed the kneeling student with the whity-brownringlets and the large finger-ring, "do take compassion upon us.Make an appointment. Dine with me and Fritz at the inn in the park. Wewill have roast pheasants and porter, plum-pudding and French wine. Weshall die if you don't."

"That we will," said the young nobleman on the bed; and this colloquyJos overheard, though he did not comprehend it, for the reason that hehad never studied the language in which it was carried on.

"Newmero kattervang dooze, si vous plait," Jos said in his grandestmanner, when he was able to speak.

"Quater fang tooce!" said the student, starting up, and he bounced intohis own room, where he locked the door, and where Jos heard himlaughing with his comrade on the bed.

The gentleman from Bengal was standing, disconcerted by this incident,when the door of the 92 opened of itself and Becky's little head peepedout full of archness and mischief. She lighted on Jos. "It's you,"she said, coming out. "How I have been waiting for you! Stop! notyet--in one minute you shall come in." In that instant she put arouge-pot, a brandy bottle, and a plate of broken meat into the bed,gave one smooth to her hair, and finally let in her visitor.

She had, by way of morning robe, a pink domino, a trifle faded andsoiled, and marked here and there with pomaturn; but her arms shone outfrom the loose sleeves of the dress very white and fair, and it wastied round her little waist so as not ill to set off the trim littlefigure of the wearer. She led Jos by the hand into her garret. "Comein," she said. "Come and talk to me. Sit yonder on the chair"; andshe gave the civilian's hand a little squeeze and laughingly placed himupon it. As for herself, she placed herself on the bed--not on thebottle and plate, you may be sure--on which Jos might have reposed, hadhe chosen that seat; and so there she sat and talked with her oldadmirer. "How little years have changed you," she said with a look oftender interest. "I should have known you anywhere. What a comfort itis amongst strangers to see once more the frank honest face of an oldfriend!"

The frank honest face, to tell the truth, at this moment bore anyexpression but one of openness and honesty: it was, on the contrary,much perturbed and puzzled in look. Jos was surveying the queer littleapartment in which he found his old flame. One of her gowns hung overthe bed, another depending from a hook of the door; her bonnet obscuredhalf the looking-glass, on which, too, lay the prettiest little pair ofbronze boots; a French novel was on the table by the bedside, with acandle, not of wax. Becky thought of popping that into the bed too,but she only put in the little paper night-cap with which she had putthe candle out on going to sleep.

"I should have known you anywhere," she continued; "a woman neverforgets some things. And you were the first man I ever--I ever saw."

"Was I really?" said Jos. "God bless my soul, you--you don't say so."

"When I came with your sister from Chiswick, I was scarcely more than achild," Becky said. "How is that, dear love? Oh, her husband was a sadwicked man, and of course it was of me that the poor dear was jealous.As if I cared about him, heigho! when there was somebody--butno--don't let us talk of old times"; and she passed her handkerchiefwith the tattered lace across her eyelids.

"Is not this a strange place," she continued, "for a woman, who haslived in a very different world too, to be found in? I have had so manygriefs and wrongs, Joseph Sedley; I have been made to suffer so cruellythat I am almost made mad sometimes. I can't stay still in any place,but wander about always restless and unhappy. All my friends have beenfalse to me--all. There is no such thing as an honest man in theworld. I was the truest wife that ever lived, though I married myhusband out of pique, because somebody else--but never mind that. Iwas true, and he trampled upon me and deserted me. I was the fondestmother. I had but one child, one darling, one hope, one joy, which Iheld to my heart with a mother's affection, which was my life, myprayer, my--my blessing; and they--they tore it from me--tore it fromme"; and she put her hand to her heart with a passionate gesture ofdespair, burying her face for a moment on the bed.

The brandy-bottle inside clinked up against the plate which held thecold sausage. Both were moved, no doubt, by the exhibition of so muchgrief. Max and Fritz were at the door, listening with wonder to Mrs.Becky's sobs and cries. Jos, too, was a good deal frightened andaffected at seeing his old flame in this condition. And she began,forthwith, to tell her story--a tale so neat, simple, and artless thatit was quite evident from hearing her that if ever there was awhite-robed angel escaped from heaven to be subject to the infernalmachinations and villainy of fiends here below, that spotlessbeing--that miserable unsullied martyr, was present on the bed beforeJos--on the bed, sitting on the brandy-bottle.

They had a very long, amicable, and confidential talk there, in thecourse of which Jos Sedley was somehow made aware (but in a manner thatdid not in the least scare or offend him) that Becky's heart had firstlearned to beat at his enchanting presence; that George Osborne hadcertainly paid an unjustifiable court to HER, which might account forAmelia's jealousy and their little rupture; but that Becky never gavethe least encouragement to the unfortunate officer, and that she hadnever ceased to think about Jos from the very first day she had seenhim, though, of course, her duties as a married woman wereparamount--duties which she had always preserved, and would, to herdying day, or until the proverbially bad climate in which ColonelCrawley was living should release her from a yoke which his cruelty hadrendered odious to her.

Jos went away, convinced that she was the most virtuous, as she was oneof the most fascinating of women, and revolving in his mind all sortsof benevolent schemes for her welfare. Her persecutions ought to beended: she ought to return to the society of which she was an ornament.He would see what ought to be done. She must quit that place and takea quiet lodging. Amelia must come and see her and befriend her. Hewould go and settle about it, and consult with the Major. She wepttears of heart-felt gratitude as she parted from him, and pressed hishand as the gallant stout gentleman stooped down to kiss hers.

So Becky bowed Jos out of her little garret with as much grace as if itwas a palace of which she did the honours; and that heavy gentlemanhaving disappeared down the stairs, Max and Fritz came out of theirhole, pipe in mouth, and she amused herself by mimicking Jos to them asshe munched her cold bread and sausage and took draughts of herfavourite brandy-and-water.

Jos walked over to Dobbin's lodgings with great solemnity and thereimparted to him the affecting history with which he had just been madeacquainted, without, however, mentioning the play business of the nightbefore. And the two gentlemen were laying their heads together andconsulting as to the best means of being useful to Mrs. Becky, whileshe was finishing her interrupted dejeuner a la fourchette.

How was it that she had come to that little town? How was it that shehad no friends and was wandering about alone? Little boys at school aretaught in their earliest Latin book that the path of Avernus is veryeasy of descent. Let us skip over the interval in the history of herdownward progress. She was not worse now than she had been in the daysof her prosperity--only a little down on her luck.

As for Mrs. Amelia, she was a woman of such a soft and foolishdisposition that when she heard of anybody unhappy, her heartstraightway melted towards the sufferer; and as she had never thoughtor done anything mortally guilty herself, she had not that abhorrencefor wickedness which distinguishes moralists much more knowing. If shespoiled everybody who came near her with kindness and compliments--ifshe begged pardon of all her servants for troubling them to answer thebell--if she apologized to a shopboy who showed her a piece of silk, ormade a curtsey to a street-sweeper with a complimentary remark uponthe elegant state of his crossing--and she was almost capable of everyone of these follies--the notion that an old acquaintance wasmiserable was sure to soften her heart; nor would she hear of anybody'sbeing deservedly unhappy. A world under such legislation as hers wouldnot be a very orderly place of abode; but there are not many women, atleast not of the rulers, who are of her sort. This lady, I believe,would have abolished all gaols, punishments, handcuffs, whippings,poverty, sickness, hunger, in the world, and was such a mean-spiritedcreature that--we are obliged to confess it--she could even forget amortal injury.

When the Major heard from Jos of the sentimental adventure which hadjust befallen the latter, he was not, it must be owned, nearly as muchinterested as the gentleman from Bengal. On the contrary, hisexcitement was quite the reverse from a pleasurable one; he made use ofa brief but improper expression regarding a poor woman in distress,saying, in fact, "The little minx, has she come to light again?" Henever had had the slightest liking for her, but had heartily mistrustedher from the very first moment when her green eyes had looked at, andturned away from, his own.

"That little devil brings mischief wherever she goes," the Major saiddisrespectfully. "Who knows what sort of life she has been leading?And what business has she here abroad and alone? Don't tell me aboutpersecutors and enemies; an honest woman always has friends and neveris separated from her family. Why has she left her husband? He mayhave been disreputable and wicked, as you say. He always was. Iremember the confounded blackleg and the way in which he used to cheatand hoodwink poor George. Wasn't there a scandal about theirseparation? I think I heard something," cried out Major Dobbin, who didnot care much about gossip, and whom Jos tried in vain to convince thatMrs. Becky was in all respects a most injured and virtuous female.

"Well, well; let's ask Mrs. George," said that arch-diplomatist of aMajor. "Only let us go and consult her. I suppose you will allow thatshe is a good judge at any rate, and knows what is right in suchmatters."

"Hm! Emmy is very well," said Jos, who did not happen to be in lovewith his sister.

"Very well? By Gad, sir, she's the finest lady I ever met in my life,"bounced out the Major. "I say at once, let us go and ask her if thiswoman ought to be visited or not--I will be content with her verdict."Now this odious, artful rogue of a Major was thinking in his own mindthat he was sure of his case. Emmy, he remembered, was at one timecruelly and deservedly jealous of Rebecca, never mentioned her name butwith a shrinking and terror--a jealous woman never forgives, thoughtDobbin: and so the pair went across the street to Mrs. George's house,where she was contentedly warbling at a music lesson with MadameStrumpff.

When that lady took her leave, Jos opened the business with his usualpomp of words. "Amelia, my dear," said he, "I have just had the mostextraordinary--yes--God bless my soul! the most extraordinaryadventure--an old friend--yes, a most interesting old friend of yours,and I may say in old times, has just arrived here, and I should likeyou to see her."

"Her!" said Amelia, "who is it? Major Dobbin, if you please not tobreak my scissors." The Major was twirling them round by the littlechain from which they sometimes hung to their lady's waist, and wasthereby endangering his own eye.

"It is a woman whom I dislike very much," said the Major, doggedly, "andwhom you have no cause to love."

"It is Rebecca, I'm sure it is Rebecca," Amelia said, blushing andbeing very much agitated.

"You are right; you always are," Dobbin answered. Brussels, Waterloo,old, old times, griefs, pangs, remembrances, rushed back into Amelia'sgentle heart and caused a cruel agitation there.

"Don't let me see her," Emmy continued. "I couldn't see her."

"I told you so," Dobbin said to Jos.

"She is very unhappy, and--and that sort of thing," Jos urged. "She isvery poor and unprotected, and has been ill--exceedingly ill--and thatscoundrel of a husband has deserted her."

"Ah!" said Amelia

"She hasn't a friend in the world," Jos went on, not undexterously,"and she said she thought she might trust in you. She's so miserable,Emmy. She has been almost mad with grief. Her story quite affectedme--'pon my word and honour, it did--never was such a cruel persecutionborne so angelically, I may say. Her family has been most cruel toher."

"Poor creature!" Amelia said.

"And if she can get no friend, she says she thinks she'll die," Josproceeded in a low tremulous voice. "God bless my soul! do you knowthat she tried to kill herself? She carries laudanum with her--I sawthe bottle in her room--such a miserable little room--at a third-ratehouse, the Elephant, up in the roof at the top of all. I went there."

This did not seem to affect Emmy. She even smiled a little. Perhapsshe figured Jos to herself panting up the stair.

"She's beside herself with grief," he resumed. "The agonies that womanhas endured are quite frightful to hear of. She had a little boy, ofthe same age as Georgy."

"Yes, yes, I think I remember," Emmy remarked. "Well?"

"The most beautiful child ever seen," Jos said, who was very fat, andeasily moved, and had been touched by the story Becky told; "a perfectangel, who adored his mother. The ruffians tore him shrieking out ofher arms, and have never allowed him to see her."

"Dear Joseph," Emmy cried out, starting up at once, "let us go and seeher this minute." And she ran into her adjoining bedchamber, tied onher bonnet in a flutter, came out with her shawl on her arm, andordered Dobbin to follow.

He went and put her shawl--it was a white cashmere, consigned to her bythe Major himself from India--over her shoulders. He saw there wasnothing for it but to obey, and she put her hand into his arm, and theywent away.

"It is number 92, up four pair of stairs," Jos said, perhaps not verywilling to ascend the steps again; but he placed himself in the windowof his drawing-room, which commands the place on which the Elephantstands, and saw the pair marching through the market.

It was as well that Becky saw them too from her garret, for she and thetwo students were chattering and laughing there; they had been jokingabout the appearance of Becky's grandpapa--whose arrival and departurethey had witnessed--but she had time to dismiss them, and have herlittle room clear before the landlord of the Elephant, who knew thatMrs. Osborne was a great favourite at the Serene Court, and respectedher accordingly, led the way up the stairs to the roof story,encouraging Miladi and the Herr Major as they achieved the ascent.

"Gracious lady, gracious lady!" said the landlord, knocking at Becky'sdoor; he had called her Madame the day before, and was by no meanscourteous to her.

"Who is it?" Becky said, putting out her head, and she gave a littlescream. There stood Emmy in a tremble, and Dobbin, the tall Major,with his cane.

He stood still watching, and very much interested at the scene; butEmmy sprang forward with open arms towards Rebecca, and forgave her atthat moment, and embraced her and kissed her with all her heart. Ah,poor wretch, when was your lip pressed before by such pure kisses?