“My dear Captain George!” cried little Rebecca in an ecstasy. “How good of you to come. The General and I were moping together tête-á-tête. General, this is my Captain George of whom you heard me talk.”

“Indeed,” said the General, with a very small bow; “of what regiment is Captain George?”

George mentioned the —th: how he wished he could have said it was a crack cavalry corps.

“Come home lately from the West Indies, I believe. Not seen much service in the late war. Quartered here, Captain George?”—the General went on with killing haughtiness.

“Not Captain George, you stupid man; Captain Osborne,” Rebecca said. The General all the while was looking savagely from one to the other.

“Captain Osborne, indeed! Any relation to the L— Osbornes?”

“We bear the same arms,” George said, as indeed was the fact; Mr. Osborne having consulted with a herald in Long Acre, and picked the L— arms out of the peerage, when he set up his carriage fifteen years before. The General made no reply to this announcement; but took up his opera-glass—the double- barrelled lorgnon was not invented in those days—and pretended to examine the house; but Rebecca saw that his disengaged eye was working round in her direction, and shooting out bloodshot glances at her and George.

She redoubled in cordiality. “How is dearest Amelia? But I needn’t ask: how pretty she looks! And who is that nice good-natured looking creature with her—a flame of yours? O, you wicked men! And there is Mr. Sedley eating ice, I declare: how he seems to enjoy it! General, why have we not had any ices?”

“Shall I go and fetch you some?” said the General, bursting with wrath.

“Let me go, I entreat you,” George said.

“No, I will go to Amelia’s box. Dear, sweet girl! Give me your arm, Captain George”; and so saying, and with a nod to the General, she tripped into the lobby. She gave George the queerest, knowingest look, when they were together, a look which might have been interpreted, “Don’t you see the state of affairs, and what a fool I’m making of him?” But he did not perceive it. He was thinking of his own plans, and lost in pompous admiration of his own irresistible powers of pleasing.

The curses to which the General gave a low utterance, as soon as Rebecca and her conqueror had quitted him, were so deep, that I am sure no compositor would venture to print them were they written down. They came from the General’s heart; and a wonderful thing it is to think that the human heart is capable of generating such produce, and can throw out, as occasion demands, such a supply of lust and fury, rage and hatred.

Amelia’s gentle eyes, too, had been fixed anxiously on the pair, whose conduct had so chafed the jealous General; but when Rebecca entered her box, she flew to her friend with an affectionate rapture which showed itself, in spite of the publicity of the place; for she embraced her dearest friend in the presence of the whole house, at least in full view of the General’s glass, now brought to bear upon the Osborne party. Mrs. Rawdon saluted Jos, too, with the kindliest greeting: she admired Mrs. O’Dowd’s large Cairngorm brooch and superb Irish diamonds, and wouldn’t believe that they were not from Golconda direct. She bustled, she chattered, she turned and twisted, and smiled upon one, and smirked on another, all in full view of the jealous opera-glass opposite. And when the time for the ballet came (in which there was no dancer that went through her grimaces or performed her comedy of action better), she skipped back to her own box, leaning on Captain Dobbin’s arm this time. No, she would not have George’s: he must stay and talk to his dearest, best, little Amelia.