The boy had many more luxuries and comforts than had been given to his father. Mr Osborne's wealth had increased greatly in recent years, and he had ambitious plans for his grandson, who was sent to an expensive little school, and who wore the finest clothes any young gentleman was ever seen in -- even his shirts had little jewelled buttons. The neat, plain shirts that his mother had sewn for him with such loving care were never worn -- Miss Osborne gave them to the coachman's boy.

Georgy Osborne enjoyed his new life at his grandfather's house in Russell Square. His good looks and bright, cheerful nature pleased the old man very much, and Mr Osborne was soon as proud of his grandson as he had been of his son.

In Russell Square everybody was afraid of Mr Osborne, and Mr Osborne was afraid of Georgy, who ruled his new home like a king. He was clever and better educated than his grandfather, and had little respect for the old man, whose manners were rude and rough. Mr Osborne spoiled Georgy, admired him, and laughed with delight at his commanding ways.

Amelia opened the case, and giving a cry of delight, seized the boy and covered him with kisses. It was a miniature painting of Georgy. His grandfather had had a painting of the boy done by a famous artist, and Georgy asked the artist to make a little copy of the painting. It made Amelia so happy, this little picture. She wept and laughed over it, slept with it under her pillow, and kissed it a hundred times a day.

After breakfast, Georgy would sit in the armchair reading the newspaper, just like a grown-up man. He even had his personal servant, who would bring him his letters on a silver tray.

"I bought it with my own money, mama," he said. "I thought you'd like it."

"Did you ever see a boy like him?" he would often say. "Drinks his wine at dinner like a lord! Oh, he's a fine little gentleman!"

But despite all this, Georgy was still a good-natured boy, and still fond of his mother. On one of his regular visits he eagerly pulled a red leather case out of his pocket and gave it to her.

There was little else in her life to give her much joy. Not long after Georgy went to live with Mr Osborne, Mrs Sedley fell ill. She was a difficult patient, but Amelia was always at her bedside, always ready with a gentle answer to that complaining voice, always offering a daughter's loving kindness in exchange for the hard words she received.

The journey also gave him a most unexpected companion -- no other than Joseph Sedley, the brother of the woman whose name Dobbin had murmured so often during his long illness.

Our old friend Jos, after ten years with the East India Company, was sailing home, richer, but otherwise unchanged. Many a night, as the ship was cutting through the roaring dark sea, the moon and stars shining overhead, Jos and the Major would sit talking of home. And with great skill and cunning the Major always brought the talk round to the subject of Amelia.

When they had buried the old lady, Amelia's father became totally dependent on his daughter. He was a sad old man, with a shaky memory, his mind often wandering in the past, but Amelia did everything she could to make her old father happy. And so the days went by, with Georgy's visits the only bright points in Amelia's dull, dutiful life.

Major Dobbin had easily obtained permission from his good-natured commander to return to England. He travelled night and day across country to the port, where he was struck down by a fever that nearly killed him. He lay at the edge of death for a long time, and it was many, many weeks before he was able to take the ship for home. He was as thin as a stick and as weak as a baby, but the long sea journey gave him back his health and strength.

It was wonderful to see after this, how bright and cheerful the Major became, and how quickly he recovered his strength.

"I hope," he said once, "she will be happy in her new marriage."

A bad-tempered growl greeted him, and Mr Sedley informed the Major that the Major could go to the devil or wherever he pleased, but that he, Jos, would finish his sleep in peace.

"Marriage?" said Jos. "Her last letter to me said nothing about marriage. She wrote to say that you were going to be married, and she hoped that you would be happy."

So Dobbin travelled to London alone, and made his way to the Sedleys' house. At the door he began to tremble. "Suppose she is married, after all," he thought. "Suppose she's moved."

They landed in England at Southampton, late at night, but very early the next morning Dobbin banged at Jos's door.

The girl stared at him, and then her face went white. "Oh! Oh!" she cried. "It's Major Dobbin! Do you remember me? I'm Mary -- the landlord's daughter. I was only little when you went away."

"Sedley," he called. "Time to go. The carriage is ready."

A girl of about sixteen opened the door.

Dobbin was as pale as a ghost. "Does Mrs Osborne live here?"

Yes, of course the Major remembered Mary Clapp, who used to play with Georgy as a baby. And Mrs Osborne…? She was walking in the park, he was told, with her poor old father. The Major would like to see her -- would Mary show him the way?

"I'll get my hat at once," said Mary, delighted.

She ran ahead to find Amelia.

Mary took Dobbin's arm, and as they walked, she answered all the Major's many questions about Mrs Osborne. Yes, she was very unhappy about parting with her son. No, she never had any gentlemen visitors. And Mary heard the Major's sigh of relief when she said this, and she felt the Major's arm jump under her hand as he caught sight of Amelia in the park. Oh yes, Mary Clapp knew all there was to know about the Major's heart.

Then she saw Dobbin's tall figure approaching; she turned white, then red, and began -- naturally -- to cry. She ran towards him, holding out her hands, smiling through her tears.

"News, news!" she cried. "He's come, he's come!"

"Who's come?" Amelia called, jumping up in alarm.

Mr Sedley was confused and worried by all this excitement, but he recognized Dobbin and was pleased to see him. They all returned to the house, and Dobbin stayed for hours, drinking endless cups of tea, and watching that dear, remembered face.

After a pause he said, "Someone else has come with me."

"Papa!" Amelia cried. "Jos is home! And here's Major Dobbin!"

Amelia talked only of Georgy, what a wonderful, intelligent, handsome, delightful boy he was. Such a joy and comfort to his mother -- and so like his dear father who was gone.

Dobbin looked at her lovingly. She had not changed. The same kind eyes, and soft brown hair. She looked up at his plain, honest face, and he took her two little hands between his, and held them there. Why did he not take her in his arms, and swear that he would never leave her? She would have accepted, surely.

"Mrs Dobbin?" she said, moving back. Why didn't he speak?

"No," he said, letting her hands go. "Who has told you those lies? I mean, your brother Jos. He came in the same ship with me, and has come home to make you all happy."

"Didn't you see," Mary said, "how he shook all over when you asked if he was married, and he said, 'Who told you those lies?' Oh, Mrs O., he never took his eyes off you for a second! I'm sure he's gone grey-haired with thinking about you all these years."

Dobbin watched as Amelia put her handkerchief to her eyes. "Should I be angry with her," he thought, "for being so faithful to George? Can that heart love only once and for ever?"

When Joseph Sedley arrived the next day, he was shocked to see how sorrow and misfortune had changed his father. The old man wept as he told his son about his wife's death, and the hard times they had all lived through. And in the emotion of that first meeting, Jos swore that he would take care of them from now on; that his house and everything he had would be theirs; and that Amelia would look very pretty at the head of his dinner table -- until, of course, she accepted one of her own.

Amelia shook her head sadly and, as usual, began to cry. She knew what he meant. She and her young friend Mary Clapp had talked over the subject very fully after the Major's visit.

Dobbin was very pleased to see the piano. "I'm glad you've kept it," he said. "I didn't think you cared about it."

It had been Dobbin on the long voyage home who had made Jos promise to take care of his family, and this time Jos kept his promise. One day his carriage came to the house and carried his father and sister away to live in comfort once more.

Dobbin was there to meet them when they arrived with their possessions, which included the old piano, rescued long ago by Dobbin himself from the sale at the Sedleys' former house.

"Mary, you mustn't say such things. I love him as a brother, but a woman who has been married to him " -- Amelia pointed to George's picture on the wall above her bed -- "can never think of another marriage."

Later, thinking about Dobbin's sad face, Amelia realized that it must have been Dobbin who gave her the piano, not George. She had loved it all these years because it was George's gift. But it was not George's gift after all. So now it meant nothing to her. But she was sorry if she had hurt Dobbin's feelings.

"Oh, I didn't know," said poor Dobbin, looking very sad.

"Of course I do," Amelia replied. "He gave it to me."

Poor Mary sighed, and felt rather sorry for Major Dobbin.

"I have to beg your pardon for something," she said to him a few days later. "I never thanked you for the piano when you gave it to me. I thought that it came from someone else. Thank you, William." She held out her hand, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Amelia, Amelia!" he cried, "I have loved you since the day I first saw you. For twelve years you have never been out of my thoughts. I came to tell you I loved you before I went to India, but you didn't care whether I stayed or went, so I didn't speak."

"I was very ungrateful," said Amelia.

Dobbin could bear no more.

"No, you didn't care. I understand how you feel about the piano. You're sorry that it came from me, and not from George. I'm a fool for thinking that years of love could matter to you."

"Now you are being cruel," Amelia said. "George is my husband still. How could I love another? I loved you like a brother, and a dear, true, kind friend. I thought you might have saved me from that dreadful parting from my son -- which nearly killed me. You didn't come, but you are still my friend, his friend and mine." Her voice broke and she hid her face on his shoulder.

The Major held her gently, kissing her head as if she was a child. "I will not change, dear Amelia," he said. "I ask for no more than your love. Only let me stay near you and see you often."

"Yes, often," Amelia said.

Life was now much more comfortable for Amelia, but there were more changes ahead. In the winter Mr Sedley died, cared for devotedly by Amelia in his last illness, and less than a year later, Mr Osborne was found dead in his bedroom one morning.

And that was all Dobbin had -- permission to be near her and to see her, and nothing more.

The old man had softened in his last year and, under Dobbin's influence, his anger and hate had faded away. He had left half his fortune to Georgy, and half to his two daughters. But there was also a pension of five hundred pounds a year for Amelia. And he wished his grandson to return to the care of his mother, the widow of his much loved son.

Amelia was overjoyed, and when she learnt it was Dobbin who had caused the change of heart in the old man, she was deeply grateful to him -- deeply grateful, but no more. If she thought of anything else, a picture of George rose before her eyes and said, "You are mine, and mine only, now and for ever."