"I like him because he knows so much," he said to his mother, "and he never boasts about all the things he's done."

When summer came, Joseph Sedley decided that a trip to Europe would be an agreeable way of passing the time, and his sister and nephew were delighted with the plan. So they took the boat from London to Germany, accompanied of course by Major Dobbin, as a close family friend.

Fortune now began to smile on Amelia. It was amazing how differently people behaved towards her as soon as they heard that Mr Osborne had left money to her. She found that everyone treated her with respect, that the servants were more attentive to her instructions, and that she suddenly had a wide circle of affectionate friends. Even Jos, who used to treat her as a harmless poor relation whom it was his duty to look after, became quite respectful and anxious to please her.

Major Dobbin, who was now Georgy's guardian, often took the boy out, and the two became firm friends. Georgy admired and respected the Major and, anxious to win his approval, became less boastful and selfish in his own behaviour.

For weeks they travelled through the towns along the banks of the river Rhine, visiting the sights, and enjoying themselves in their different ways. After a large lunch, Jos usually read the newspapers (or fell asleep over them), while the others went on excursions. Amelia was fond of drawing, and sat in the sunshine, drawing castles and churches. Sometimes they climbed up to a ruined tower on a hill-top, where Georgy ran about exploring, and Amelia drew the view. Dobbin carried her little chair and her sketch-book, and admired the drawings as they had never been admired before. Perhaps it was the happiest time of both their lives, if they had only known it. But who does?

When they came to the little town of Pumpernickel, Jos liked it so much that he decided to stay there for the winter. They rented a pleasant house, and were welcomed into local society, receiving invitations to parties, dinners and balls.

On one occasion the wedding of a local German prince took place. The town was full of visitors for the celebrations, and everybody was invited to a grand ball. Jos and his party went, including young Georgy, who watched the dancing for a while, but then got bored, and wandered away through the other rooms in search of better entertainment.

"My name's George Osborne," said the boy.

"Play this for me, please. Put it on any number you like."

"No, madame," the boy replied.

"Thank you," the lady said, pulling a pile of money towards her. "Thank you. What is your name?"

She took a gold coin from her purse, the only coin there, and gave it to him. The boy laughed, and did as she asked.

One of them, a lady with light hair, in a low-necked dress and wearing a black mask, kept on losing. She looked around, saw Georgy watching, and stared at him.

At this moment the Major and Jos appeared, looking for him. Dobbin took Georgy's arm and quickly led him away. He looked back over his shoulder at Jos, who was watching with interest as the masked lady won on the next spin of the roulette wheel.

And his number won. It always does, they say, for beginners.

"What is it?" said Georgy, blushing a little.

"You never play, sir?" she said in a French accent.

He found himself in the gambling rooms, with the card tables and the roulette wheel, a place where his guardian the Major would never normally let him enter. But Georgy was fascinated, and stood close to the roulette table, watching the gamblers as they played, and won… and lost… and lost again.

"Will you do something for me, then?" she said.

Jos sat down, murmuring confused compliments.

"Why?" Georgy said. "It seems very good fun."

In a serious voice Dobbin explained why Georgy should never gamble. He did not mention, of course, how Georgy's own father had demonstrated the foolishness of gambling.

"Give me your promise that you never will," said Dobbin.

"Are you coming with us?" Dobbin asked him.

Jos remained behind. He was no gambler, but he liked a little excitement now and then, and he had some coins in his pocket. He put one down over the fair shoulder of the masked lady, and they won. She gently tapped the empty chair next to her.

The boy said, "No."

"You go on," Jos replied. "I'll follow in a while."

"I play to forget, but I cannot," said the mask. "I cannot forget old times, sir. Your little nephew is so like his father. And you -- you have not changed -- but yes, you have. Everybody changes, everybody forgets; nobody has any heart."

Outside the room Dobbin said to Georgy, "Did you play?"

"Come and give me good luck," she said.

"Can't you guess, Joseph Sedley?" said the little woman, taking off her mask and looking at him. "You have forgotten me."

"Good heavens! Mrs Crawley!" gasped Jos.

"Good God, who is it?" cried Jos, alarmed.

"Rebecca," she said, putting her hand on his. "I'm staying at the Elephant hotel. Ask for Madame de Raudon. I saw my dear Amelia today. How pretty she looked, and how happy! So do you! Everybody is happy, except me. I am so miserable, Joseph Sedley."

She played another coin on the black. Her eyes followed the wheel as it spun, but the red won, and she lost her money.

"Come with me for a little while," she said to Jos. "We are old friends, aren't we, dear Mr Sedley?"

What had happened to Mrs Rebecca Crawley in the two years since that dreadful night in Curzon Street? She went first to Boulogne on the French coast, where she led a quiet, respectable life for a while. But of the many English travellers passing through, there were always some who knew her story. And then the gossip began; society ladies would ignore her, and the men would laugh at her, or be too familiar, even insulting. One young man, who in London used to walk a mile through the rain to find her carriage for her, tried to force his way into her sitting-room, and she had to shut the door in his face.

She moved on to Ostend, Florence, Rome… Through his lawyers, Rawdon was paying her three hundred pounds a year, on the condition that she never troubled him again. But when she got her money, she gambled; when she had gambled it, she had to live as best she could. Some said she gave singing lessons, and sang in theatres. Certainly, the Elephant hotel in Pumpernickel, where Joseph Sedley visited her the next day, was full of actors and entertainers and noisy young students. Becky liked the life. She was, after all, the daughter of an artist and a dancer, and was happy to drink brandy-and-water and share a joke with anyone.

It made her feel very lonely. "If he had been here," she thought, "those cowards would never dare to insult me." She thought about "him" with great sadness -- his honest, stupid kindness, his good humour, his faithfulness and obedience, his bravery. And perhaps she cried a little too.

Meeting Joseph Sedley again, though, offered Becky a chance, which she seized with both hands. She had charmed him before; she could charm him again. When he arrived, she welcomed him into her little room with tearful delight, and he listened in shock and horror to the terrible story that Becky poured into his ears -- the ill-treatment and injustice and cruelty that she had suffered.

He hurried back home to tell Amelia all about it. "She's so miserable, Emmy," he said. "She hasn't a friend in the world."

"That woman brings trouble wherever she goes," Dobbin said.

None of them had heard the gossip about Becky because they had no connections with London high society, but Dobbin remembered certain events in Brussels long ago. Amelia, too, remembered the fear and jealousy that her friend had caused her. A soft, gentle heart, however, is soon moved to sympathy.

"Mrs Crawley has a son, the same age as Georgy," Jos went on. "He adores his mother. And they tore him screaming out of her arms, and have never allowed him to see her since."

Amelia jumped to her feet. "Dear Jos," she said. "The poor, poor woman. William, let's go and see her at once."

It was lucky that Becky saw them coming from her window, and so was able to hide the brandy bottle under the bed and send away the two young students she had been laughing with.

When Amelia saw Becky, she forgave her at once, and ran forward to kiss her. Becky was truly grateful to her for her kind, generous heart, and although the emotion did not last long, it was real while it lasted. The two women talked in Becky's room for two hours, while Dobbin sat in the hall below, watching the comings and goings in the hotel. He was not impressed by Mrs Crawley, nor deceived by her, and when they returned to the house and Amelia began to make arrangements for a room for Becky, he became very alarmed.

"You're going to have that woman in the house?" he said.

"Of course we are," said Amelia. "The poor woman has suffered so much. Of course we are going to have her here."

She went to her room and shut the door. How dare Dobbin insult George's memory? "You were pure," she said to the picture above her bed, "and I was wrong and wicked to be jealous."

"Her husband deserted her and took her child away from her!" Amelia said. "I must help her -- she's my oldest friend."

"Of course, my dear," Jos said.

"She was not always your friend, Amelia," said Dobbin, who was now quite angry.

Poor Dobbin! He had just ruined the work of many years. He tried hard to persuade Jos not to receive Mrs Crawley into his home, but they were interrupted by the arrival of the lady herself, with her luggage. She greeted them with great respect, especially Major Dobbin, since she saw at once that he was her enemy. Amelia appeared from her room to welcome Becky and took no notice of the Major, except to give him an angry look.

"Shame on you, Major Dobbin!" Amelia said fiercely.

"He's eating out, I suppose," his mother said, pulling her son close to her and kissing him. "This is my boy, Rebecca," she said.

There were four places as usual at the dinner table that evening, but the fourth place was taken by Rebecca.

The next morning Dobbin asked to see Amelia, but she would not see him until the afternoon. She greeted him coldly. Becky was also there, and came forward smiling, holding out her hand. Dobbin stepped back from her.

Becky looked at Georgy admiringly, and took his hand fondly. "Dear boy!" she said. "He is just like my…" Emotion prevented her from saying more, but Amelia understood that she was thinking of her own dear child. In spite of all this emotion, however, Becky managed to eat a very good dinner.

"Hello, where's Dob?" Georgy asked when he came in.

Dobbin, angry and hurt at the way Amelia had treated him, went to see an Englishman he knew and asked if the name of Mrs Rawdon Crawley meant anything to him. He was in luck. The man knew all the London gossip, and told the astonished Major the full history of Becky, her husband, and Lord Steyne.

"Oh, don't let's have any of this," said Jos, alarmed at the signs of a quarrel. "I will not have this sort of thing in my house."

"I wonder what Major Dobbin has to say against Rebecca," said Amelia in a low, clear voice, with a determined look in her eyes.

"I am sorry, Mrs Crawley," he said, "but I must tell you that I have not come here as your friend."

"Dear friend," Rebecca said sweetly, "please hear what Major Dobbin has to say against me."

"I will not hear it, I say," Jos said, and he left the room.

"We are only two women," Amelia said. "You can speak now."

"I came to say, Mrs Crawley, I have heard things about you that I do not wish to repeat in front of Mrs Osborne. A woman who is separated from her husband, who travels under a false name, who gambles -- is not a suitable companion for Mrs Osborne and her son."

"There is no need to behave in this way, Amelia," said Dobbin. "I do not usually speak critically of women. It is not a pleasure for me to do what I have to do."

"Then please do it quickly," said Amelia impatiently.

"Of what exactly are you accusing me, Major Dobbin?" Becky said. "Unfaithfulness to my husband? I deny it, and no one can prove it because I am innocent. Are you accusing me of being poor, alone, and unhappy? Yes, I am guilty of those faults, and I am punished for them every day. Let me go, Emmy. I shall continue to wander through life alone, being insulted because I am alone. Let me go. The poor wanderer will be on her way. My stay here spoils this gentleman's plans."

"Believe me, it's not about you that I'm going to speak," Dobbin said. "Come back, Amelia," and she came. Dobbin closed the door behind Mrs Crawley. Amelia looked up at him. Her face and her lips were quite white.

"Indeed it does, and if I have any power in this house…"

"Power, none!" cried Amelia. "Rebecca, you stay with me. I won't desert you because you have suffered. Come away, dear."

"He wishes to speak with you when I'm not there," said Becky unhappily. Amelia held her hand tightly.

And the two ladies went to the door. Dobbin opened it, but as they were going out, he took Amelia's hand and said, "Amelia, will you stay a moment and speak to me?"

"You don't mean that, Amelia," Dobbin said sadly. "You don't mean that those few words have more weight than a life-time's devoted love? I have never insulted George, and I don't deserve this from his widow and the mother of his son. I'm sure if you think about it, you will want to take back your accusation."

"I was confused when I spoke just now," the Major said, "and I misused the word 'power'. I was wrong. But your husband asked me to look after you. That's why I have spoken as I have."

"Yesterday you insulted his memory. And I will never forgive you -- never!" Amelia said, filled with anger and emotion.

Amelia held her head down.

"I have loved and watched you for fifteen years," he continued, "and I know now that you can only love a dream. You cannot love as I deserve to be loved, as I would have been loved by a woman more generous than you. I know now that you are not capable of such love. I find no fault with you. You are very good-natured, and have done your best, but you could never love me as I love you. I have waited long enough. I am tired of it. We are both tired of it. Goodbye, Amelia. Let it end at last."

Amelia stood silent and afraid as Dobbin suddenly broke the chain by which she had held him for so long. She didn't wish to marry him, but she wished to keep him. She wished to give him nothing, but wanted him to give her everything.

He gave a sad laugh. "I went once before," he said, "but I came back -- after twelve years. We were young then, Amelia. I have spent enough of my life waiting. Goodbye."

"Are you saying that… that you're going away, William?" she said.

"What a fine man he is," she thought, "and how badly she treats him." She admired Dobbin, and was not bitter because of the things he had said about her. It was an open move in the game, and he had played it fairly. "Ah, if only I'd had a husband like that," she thought. She hurried to her room and wrote him a note in which she begged him to wait for a few days, and not to leave because, she said, she could help him with Amelia.

While they had been talking, the door had opened just a crack, and, unknown to them, Becky had listened to every word.

When the servants began to say their goodbyes to the Major, Georgy could bear it no longer. "I will go!" he cried.

"Not coming back!" cried Georgy, jumping up.

"He's… not coming back," Amelia replied.

"Stay where you are!" shouted Jos.

The parting was over. Once more poor William walked to the door and was gone. And the little widow had won her victory, and was left to enjoy it as best she could.

"Yes," his mother replied. "He's going on a journey."

"On a journey? When is he coming back?" Georgy asked.

"Stay, Georgy," his mother said, with a very sad face.

At dinner that evening everyone was silent, and Amelia ate nothing. Afterwards, Georgy was looking out of the window at Dobbin's house, which was opposite.

The boy returned to the window, looking puzzled and uneasy.

"Look!" he said. "They're bringing out Dobbin's carriage and putting his luggage in it. Is he going somewhere?"

"Give him this," said Becky quickly, and passed him a note.

And Amelia? She had her picture of George to comfort her.

Georgy took it, and rushed out of the house. Dobbin was already in the carriage. Georgy jumped in after him, threw his arms round the Major's neck (as they saw from the window), and began asking him questions. Then he took the note from his pocket and gave it to him. Dobbin opened it, trembling, but then his expression changed, and he tore the note in two and dropped it out of the carriage window. Then he kissed Georgy on the head and the boy got down from the carriage, which at once moved away. Dobbin did not look up as he passed below Amelia's window. And Georgy, left alone in the street, began to cry loudly.