_III.--After Waterloo_


About three weeks after the 18th of June, Alderman Sir William Dobbin
called at Mr. Osborne's house in Russell Square, and insisted upon
seeing that gentleman. "My son," the Alderman said, with some
hesitation, "dispatched me a letter by an officer of the --th, who
arrived in town to-day. My son's letter contains one for you, Osborne."

The letter was in George's well-known bold handwriting. He had written
it before daybreak on the 16th of June, just before he took leave of
Amelia. The very seal that sealed it had been robbed from George's dead
body on the field of battle. The father knew nothing of this, but sat
and looked at the letter in terrified vacancy.

The poor boy's letter did not say much. He had been too proud to
acknowledge the tenderness which his heart felt. He only said that on
the eve of a great battle he wished to bid his father farewell, and
solemnly to implore his good offices for the wife--it might be for the
child--whom he had left behind. His English habit, pride, awkwardness,
perhaps, had prevented him from saying more. His father could not see
the kiss George had placed on the superscription of his letter. Mr.
Osborne dropped it with the bitterest, deadliest pang of balked
affection and revenge. His son was still beloved and unforgiven.

Two months afterwards an elaborate funeral monument to the memory of
Captain George Osborne appeared on the wall of the church which Mr.
Osborne attended, and in the autumn the old man went to Belgium.