a ribbon in Southampton Row, was followed by Black
Sambo with an enormous cane: who was always cared for, dressed, put to
bed, and watched over by ever so many guardian angels, with and without
wages? Bon Dieu, I say, is it not hard that the fateful rush of the
great Imperial struggle can't take place without affecting a poor
little harmless girl of eighteen, who is occupied in billing and
cooing, or working muslin collars in Russell Square? You too, kindly,
homely flower!--is the great roaring war tempest coming to sweep you
down, here, although cowering under the shelter of Holborn? Yes;
Napoleon is flinging his last stake, and poor little Emmy Sedley's
happiness forms, somehow, part of it.

In the first place, her father's fortune was swept down with that fatal
news. All his speculations had of late gone wrong with the luckless
old gentleman. Ventures had failed; merchants had broken; funds had
risen when he calculated they would fall. What need to particularize?
If success is rare and slow, everybody knows how quick and easy ruin
is. Old Sedley had kept his own sad counsel. Everything seemed to go
on as usual in the quiet, opulent house; the good-natured mistress
pursuing, quite unsuspiciously, her bustling idleness, and daily easy
avocations; the daughter absorbed still in one selfish, tender thought,
and quite regardless of all the world besides, when that final crash
came, under which the worthy family fell.

One night Mrs. Sedley was writing cards for a party; the Osbornes had
given one, and she must not be behindhand; John Sedley, who had come
home very late from the City, sate silent at the chimney side, while
his wife was prattling to him; Emmy had gone up to her room ailing and
low-spirited. "She's not happy," the mother went on. "George Osborne
neglects her. I've no patience with the airs of those people. The
girls have not been in the house these three weeks; and George has been
twice in town without coming. Edward Dale saw him at the Opera.
Edward would marry her I'm sure: and there's Captain Dobbin who, I
think, would--only I hate all army men. Such a dandy as George has
become. With his military airs, indeed! We must show some folks that
we're as good as they. Only give Edward Dale any encouragement, and
you'll see. We must have a party, Mr. S. Why don't you speak, John?
Shall I say Tuesday fortnight? Why don't you answer? Good God, John,
what has happened?"

John Sedley sprang up o