re closely than ever by it
to Lady Jane, whose tender heart had already adopted him. Rawdon Crawley,
then grown a tall, fine lad, blushed when he got the letter.

"Oh, Aunt Jane, you are my mother!" he said; "and not--and not _that_
one!" But he wrote a kind and respectful letter in response to Mrs.
Becky, and the incident was closed. As for the Colonel, he wrote to the
boy regularly every mail from his post on Coventry Island, and little
Rawdon used to like to get the papers and read about his Excellency, his
father, of whom he had been truly fond. But the image gradually faded as
the images of childhood do fade, and each year he grew more tenderly
attached to Lady Jane and her husband, who had become father and mother
to him in his hour of need.

As for George Osborne, the little boy whom Rawdon Crawley had given a
ride on his pony long years before, the fates had been much kinder to him
than to Rawdon. He had had no lonely childhood, for although he had no
recollection of his handsome young father, from baby days he was
surrounded by the utmost adoration by a doting mother. Poor Amelia,
deprived of the husband whom she adored, lavished all the pent-up love of
her gentle bosom upon the little boy with the eyes of George who was
gone--a little boy as beautiful as a cherub, and there was never a moment
when the child missed any office which love or affection could give him.
His grandfather Sedley also adored the child, and it was the old man's
delight to take out his little grandson to the neighbouring parks of
Kensington Gardens, to see the soldiers or to feed the ducks. Georgie
loved the red coats, and his grandpapa told him how his father had been a
famous soldier, and introduced him to many sergeants and others with
Waterloo medals on their breasts, to whom the old grandfather pompously
presented the child; as on the occasion of their meeting with Colonel
Rawdon Crawley and his little son.

Old Sedley was disposed to spoil little Georgie, sadly gorging the boy
with apples and peppermint to the detriment of his health, until Amelia
declared that Georgie should never go out with his grandpapa again unless
the latter solemnly promised on his honour not to give the child any
cakes, lollipops, or stall produce whatever.

Amelia's days were full of active employment, for besides caring for
Georgie, she devoted much time to her old father and mother, with whom
she and the child lived, and who were much broken by their f