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Updated: May 4, 2025
Such is perhaps the summing-up of the news of the Hamleys, as contained in many bulletins. They always ended in some kind message to Molly. Mrs. Gibson generally said, as a comment upon her husband's account of Osborne's melancholy, 'My dear! why don't you ask him to dinner here? A little quiet dinner, you know.
It was also said, he added, that the lady had prevailed on her father to sanction young Osborne's addresses to her, and that the baronet, who was a strong political partizan, calculating upon his preeminent talents, intended to bring him into parliament, in order to strengthen his party.
The boy to whom these remarks were addressed, Blake Merton, a Hawk and one of young Osborne's staunchest friends, flushed. "If you had been in Walter's place, you would have lasted about two minutes!" he retorted. His naturally quick temper -usually kept in control -often flared up and led him to say things which he afterward regretted. "Huh!" exclaimed the Fox, scornfully.
'And the child, whispered Molly to her father. Low as the whisper was, it struck on the squire's ear. 'What? said he, turning round to her suddenly, child! You never named that? Is there a child? Husband and father, and I never knew! God bless Osborne's child! I say, God bless it! He stood up reverently, and the other two instinctively rose. He closed his hands as if in momentary prayer.
The boy's face flushed up, and his eyes brightened. "I don't know the other," he said, "but I should think you must be Major Dobbin." Indeed, it was Major Dobbin, who had come home on urgent private affairs, and who on board the Ramchunder, East Indiaman, had fallen in with no other than the Widow Osborne's stout brother, Joseph, who had passed the last ten years in Bengal.
All this his father had been rather proud of in the days when he had looked forward to a brilliant career at Cambridge for his son; he had at that time regarded Osborne's fastidiousness and elegance as another stepping-stone to the high and prosperous marriage which was to restore the ancient fortunes of the Hamley family.
The new typewriter and the two clerks had gone. He was still wondering why Osborne's niece had resigned so unexpectedly. Probably she was going to get married. They always did when they had saved a penny or two. He laughed. He had been careless now and then, but whatever she might have picked up in the way of business or political secrets could not profit her. Boss McQuade felt secure.
Her conduct must have relieved Crawley if there was any jealousy in the bosom of that life-guardsman. When the young men went upstairs, and after Osborne's introduction to Miss Crawley, he walked up to Rebecca with a patronising, easy swagger. He was going to be kind to her and protect her.
Pickwick filled and drained a bumper with a trembling hand; and his eyes moistened as his friends rose with one accord and pledged him from their hearts. So runs the chronicle, and so ended the immortal Pickwick Club, in the precincts of Osborne's Hotel in the Adelphi, which also became the headquarters of the relatives of Mr. Wardle during their stay in London for the wedding of his daughter.
At which Osborne fell back into his carriage and Dobbin followed him to his hotel and up to his apartments. "Make it short, sir," said Osborne, with an oath. "I'm here as your son's closest friend," said the Major, "and the executor of his will. Are you aware how small his means were, and of the straitened circumstances of his widow? Do you know, sir, Mrs. Osborne's condition?
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