Her mind being made up, the widow began to take such measures as seemed
right to her for advancing the end which she proposed. One day, Miss
Osborne, in Russell Square (Amelia had not written the name or number
of the house for ten years--her youth, her early story came back to her
as she wrote the superscription) one day Miss Osborne got a letter from
Amelia which made her blush very much and look towards her father,
sitting glooming in his place at the other end of the table.
In simple terms, Amelia told her the reasons which had induced her to
change her mind respecting her boy. Her father had met with fresh
misfortunes which had entirely ruined him. Her own pittance was so
small that it would barely enable her to support her parents and would
not suffice to give George the advantages which were his due. Great as
her sufferings would be at parting with him she would, by God's help,
endure them for the boy's sake. She knew that those to whom he was
going would do all in their power to make him happy. She described his
disposition, such as she fancied it--quick and impatient of control or
harshness, easily to be moved by love and kindness. In a postscript,
she stipulated that she should have a written agreement, that she
should see the child as often as she wished--she could not part with
him under any other terms.
"What? Mrs. Pride has come down, has she?" old Osborne said, when with
a tremulous eager voice Miss Osborne read him the letter. "Reg'lar
starved out, hey? Ha, ha! I knew she would." He tried to keep his
dignity and to read his paper as usual--but he could not follow it. He
chuckled and swore to himself behind the sheet.
At last he flung it down and, scowling at his daughter, as his wont
was, went out of the room into his study adjoining, from whence he
presently returned with a key. He flung it to Miss Osborne.
"Get the room over mine--his room that was--ready," he said. "Yes,
sir," his daughter replied in a tremble. It was George's room. It had
not been opened for more than ten years. Some of his clothes, papers,
handkerchiefs, whips and caps, fishing-rods and sporting gear, were
still there. An Army list of 1814, with his name written on the cover;
a little dictionary he was wont to use in writing; and the Bible his
mother had given him, were on the mantelpiece, with a pair of spurs and
a dried inkstand covered with the dust of ten years. Ah! since that
ink was wet, what days and people had passed away! The writing-book,
still on the table, was blotted with his hand.
Miss Osborne was much affected when she first entered this room with
the servants under her. She sank quite pale on the little bed. "This
is blessed news, m'am--indeed, m'am," the housekeeper said; "and the
good old times is returning, m'am. The dear little feller, to be sure,
m'am; how happy he will be! But some folks in May Fair, m'am, will owe
him a grudge, m'am"; and she clicked back the bolt which held the
window-sash and let the air into the chamber.