Vanity Fair | Page 4

great deal too round and red for a heroine; but her face blushed with
rosy health, and her lips with the freshest of smiles, and she had a pair
of eyes which sparkled with the brightest and honestest good-humour,
except indeed when they filled with tears, and that was a great deal too
often; for the silly thing would cry over a dead canary-bird; or over a
mouse, that the cat haply had seized upon; or over the end of a novel,
were it ever so stupid; and as for saying an unkind word to her, were
any persons hard-hearted enough to do so--why, so much the worse for
them. Even Miss Pinkerton, that austere and godlike woman, ceased
scolding her after the first time, and though she no more comprehended
sensibility than she did Algebra, gave all masters and teachers

particular orders to treat Miss Sedley with the utmost gentleness, as
harsh treatment was injurious to her.
So that when the day of departure came, between her two customs of
laughing and crying, Miss Sedley was greatly puzzled how to act. She
was glad to go home, and yet most woefully sad at leaving school. For
three days before, little Laura Martin, the orphan, followed her about
like a little dog. She had to make and receive at least fourteen
presents--to make fourteen solemn promises of writing every week:
"Send my letters under cover to my grandpapa, the Earl of Dexter,"
said Miss Saltire (who, by the way, was rather shabby). "Never mind
the postage, but write every day, you dear darling," said the impetuous
and woolly-headed, but generous and affectionate Miss Swartz; and the
orphan little Laura Martin (who was just in round-hand), took her
friend's hand and said, looking up in her face wistfully, "Amelia, when
I write to you I shall call you Mamma." All which details, I have no
doubt, JONES, who reads this book at his Club, will pronounce to be
excessively foolish, trivial, twaddling, and ultra-sentimental. Yes; I can
see Jones at this minute (rather flushed with his joint of mutton and half
pint of wine), taking out his pencil and scoring under the words
"foolish, twaddling," &c., and adding to them his own remark of
"QUITE TRUE." Well, he is a lofty man of genius, and admires the
great and heroic in life and novels; and so had better take warning and
go elsewhere.
Well, then. The flowers, and the presents, and the trunks, and
bonnet-boxes of Miss Sedley having been arranged by Mr. Sambo in
the carriage, together with a very small and weather-beaten old cow's-
skin trunk with Miss Sharp's card neatly nailed upon it, which was
delivered by Sambo with a grin, and packed by the coachman with a
corresponding sneer--the hour for parting came; and the grief of that
moment was considerably lessened by the admirable discourse which
Miss Pinkerton addressed to her pupil. Not that the parting speech
caused Amelia to philosophise, or that it armed her in any way with a
calmness, the result of argument; but it was intolerably dull, pompous,
and tedious; and having the fear of her schoolmistress greatly before
her eyes, Miss Sedley did not venture, in her presence, to give way to

any ebullitions of private grief. A seed-cake and a bottle of wine were
produced in the drawing-room, as on the solemn occasions of the visits
of parents, and these refreshments being partaken of, Miss Sedley was
at liberty to depart.
"You'll go in and say good-by to Miss Pinkerton, Becky!" said Miss
Jemima to a young lady of whom nobody took any notice, and who was
coming downstairs with her own bandbox.
"I suppose I must," said Miss Sharp calmly, and much to the wonder of
Miss Jemima; and the latter having knocked at the door, and receiving
permission to come in, Miss Sharp advanced in a very unconcerned
manner, and said in French, and with a perfect accent, "Mademoiselle,
je viens vous faire mes adieux."
Miss Pinkerton did not understand French; she only directed those who
did: but biting her lips and throwing up her venerable and
Roman-nosed head (on the top of which figured a large and solemn
turban), she said, "Miss Sharp, I wish you a good morning." As the
Hammersmith Semiramis spoke, she waved one hand, both by way of
adieu, and to give Miss Sharp an opportunity of shaking one of the
fingers of the hand which was left out for that purpose.
Miss Sharp only folded her own hands with a very frigid smile and bow,
and quite declined to accept the proffered honour; on which Semiramis
tossed up her turban more indignantly than ever. In fact, it was a little
battle between the young lady and the old one, and the latter was
worsted.