My dear husband is pleased to say that he likes EVERYTHING WHICH COMES FROM MISS PINKERTON'S SCHOOL.

My dear husband is pleased to say that he likes everything which comes from Miss Pinkerton's School.


How I wish I could present him and my beloved girls to the friend of my youth, and the ADMIRED of the great lexicographer of our country!

How I wish I could present him and my beloved girls to the friend of my youth, ADMIRED of the great lexicographer!


If you ever travel into Hampshire, Mr. Crawley begs me to say, he hopes you will adorn our RURAL RECTORY with your presence.

If you ever travel into Hampshire, we hope you will adorn our rural rectory with your presence.


P.S. Mr. Crawley's brother, the baronet, with whom we are not, alas!


upon those terms of UNITY in which it BECOMES BRETHREN TO DWELL, has a governess for his little girls, who, I am told, had the good fortune to be educated at Chiswick.

upon terms of brotherly UNITY, has a governess for his little girls, Miss Sharp, who, I am told, had the good fortune to be educated at Chiswick.


I hear various reports of her; and as I have the tenderest interest in my dearest little nieces, whom I wish, in spite of family differences, to see among my own children--and as I long to be attentive to ANY PUPIL OF YOURS--do, my dear Miss Pinkerton, tell me the history of this young lady, whom, for YOUR SAKE, I am most anxious to befriend.--M.

As I have the tenderest interest in my dearest little nieces - and as I long to be attentive to ANY PUPIL OF YOURS - do, my dear Miss Pinkerton, tell me the history of this young lady, whom, for YOUR SAKE, I am most anxious to befriend.-M. C.


Dear Madam,--I have the honour to acknowledge your polite communication, to which I promptly reply.

Dear Madam,
I have the honour to acknowledge your letter.


'Tis most gratifying to one in my most arduous position to find that my maternal cares have elicited a responsive affection; and to recognize in the amiable Mrs. Bute Crawley my excellent pupil of former years, the sprightly and accomplished Miss Martha MacTavish.

'Tis most gratifying to recognize in the amiable Mrs. Bute Crawley my excellent pupil of former years, the accomplished Miss Martha MacTavish.


I am happy to have under my charge now the daughters of many of those who were your contemporaries at my establishment--what pleasure it would give me if your own beloved young ladies had need of my instructive superintendence!

What pleasure it would give me if your beloved young daughters had need of my superintendence!


Presenting my respectful compliments to Lady Fuddleston, I have the honour (epistolarily) to introduce to her ladyship my two friends, Miss Tuffin and Miss Hawky.

Presenting my respectful compliments to Lady Fuddleston, I have the honour to introduce to her ladyship my two friends, Miss Tuffin and Miss Hawky.


Either of these young ladies is PERFECTLY QUALIFIED to instruct in Greek, Latin, and the rudiments of Hebrew; in mathematics and history; in Spanish, French, Italian, and geography; in music, vocal and instrumental; in dancing, without the aid of a master; and in the elements of natural sciences.

Either of these young ladies is PERFECTLY QUALIFIED to instruct in Greek, Latin, and the rudiments of Hebrew; in mathematics and history; in Spanish, French, Italian, and geography; in music, dancing, the elements of natural sciences, and


In the use of the globes both are proficients.


In addition to these Miss Tuffin, who is daughter of the late Reverend Thomas Tuffin (Fellow of Corpus College, Cambridge), can instruct in the Syriac language, and the elements of Constitutional law.

Miss Tuffin, who is daughter of the late Reverend Thomas, can also instruct in the Syriac language, and elements of Constitutional law.


But as she is only eighteen years of age, and of exceedingly pleasing personal appearance, perhaps this young lady may be objectionable in Sir Huddleston Fuddleston's family.

But as she is only eighteen years of age, and of exceedingly pleasing appearance, perhaps this young lady may be objectionable in Sir Huddleston Fuddleston's family.


Miss Letitia Hawky, on the other hand, is not personally well-favoured.


She is twenty-nine; her face is much pitted with the small-pox.


She has a halt in her gait, red hair, and a trifling obliquity of vision.

, she has a halting gait and a trifling squint.


Both ladies are endowed with EVERY MORAL AND RELIGIOUS VIRTUE.


Their terms, of course, are such as their accomplishments merit.


With my most grateful respects to the Reverend Bute Crawley, I have the honour to be,

With my respects to the Reverend Bute Crawley, I have the honour to be,


Your most faithful and obedient servant, Barbara Pinkerton.


P.S. The Miss Sharp, whom you mention as governess to Sir Pitt Crawley, Bart., M.P., was a pupil of mine, and I have nothing to say in her disfavour.

P.S. Miss Sharp, whom you mention as governess to Sir Pitt Crawley, was a pupil of mine, and I have nothing to say in her disfavour.


Though her appearance is disagreeable, we cannot control the operations of nature: and though her parents were disreputable (her father being a painter, several times bankrupt, and her mother, as I have since learned, with horror, a dancer at the Opera); yet her talents are considerable, and I cannot regret that I received her OUT OF CHARITY.


My dread is, lest the principles of the mother--who was represented to me as a French Countess, forced to emigrate in the late revolutionary horrors; but who, as I have since found, was a person of the very lowest order and morals--should at any time prove to be HEREDITARY in the unhappy young woman whom I took as AN OUTCAST.

My dread is, lest the principles of the mother - whom I was told was a French Countess - should prove to be HEREDITARY in the unhappy young woman whom I took as AN OUTCAST.


But her principles have hitherto been correct (I believe), and I am sure nothing will occur to injure them in the elegant and refined circle of the eminent Sir Pitt Crawley.

But her principles have hitherto been correct (I believe), and I am sure nothing will occur to injure them in the refined circle of Sir Pitt Crawley.


*
Miss Rebecca Sharp to Miss Amelia Sedley.


I have not written to my beloved Amelia for these many weeks past, for what news was there to tell of the sayings and doings at Humdrum Hall, as I have christened it; and what do you care whether the turnip crop is good or bad; whether the fat pig weighed thirteen stone or fourteen; and whether the beasts thrive well upon mangelwurzel?

I have not written to my beloved Amelia for these many weeks, for what news was there to tell of Humdrum Hall, as I have christened it; and what do you care whether the turnip crop is good or bad, or whether the fat pig weighed thirteen stone or fourteen?


Every day since I last wrote has been like its neighbour.


Before breakfast, a walk with Sir Pitt and his spud; after breakfast studies (such as they are) in the schoolroom; after schoolroom, reading and writing about lawyers, leases, coal-mines, canals, with Sir Pitt (whose secretary I am become); after dinner, Mr. Crawley's discourses on the baronet's backgammon; during both of which amusements my lady looks on with equal placidity.

Before breakfast, a walk with Sir Pitt; after breakfast, studies in the schoolroom; after the schoolroom, reading and writing about lawyers, leases, coal-mines and canals with Sir Pitt (whose secretary I am become).
After dinner, there are Mr. Crawley's discourses on the baronet's backgammon, while my lady looks placidly on.


She has become rather more interesting by being ailing of late, which has brought a new visitor to the Hall, in the person of a young doctor.

She has become more interesting lately by being ill, which has brought a new visitor to the Hall: a young doctor.


Well, my dear, young women need never despair.


The young doctor gave a certain friend of yours to understand that, if she chose to be Mrs. Glauber, she was welcome to ornament the surgery!

Dr. Glauber gave a certain friend of yours to understand that, if she chose to be Mrs. Glauber, she was welcome to ornament the surgery!


I told his impudence that the gilt pestle and mortar was quite ornament enough; as if I was born, indeed, to be a country surgeon's wife!

I rebuffed him. As if I was born to be a country surgeon's wife!


Mr. Glauber went home seriously indisposed at his rebuff, took a cooling draught, and is now quite cured.


Sir Pitt applauded my resolution highly; he would be sorry to lose his little secretary, I think; and I believe the old wretch likes me as much as it is in his nature to like any one.

Sir Pitt applauded my resolution; he would be sorry to lose his little secretary, I think; and I believe the old wretch likes me as much as he can like any one.


and with a country apothecary, after-- No, no, one cannot so soon forget old associations, about which I will talk no more.

a country doctor, after - no, no; I cannot so soon forget old associations, about which I will talk no more.


For some time past it is Humdrum Hall no longer.


My dear, Miss Crawley has arrived with her fat horses, fat servants, fat spaniel--the great rich Miss Crawley, with seventy thousand pounds in the five per cents., whom, or I had better say WHICH, her two brothers adore.

Miss Crawley has arrived with her fat horses, fat servants, and fat spaniel - the great rich Miss Crawley, with seventy thousand pounds, whom, or rather WHICH, her two brothers adore.


She looks very apoplectic, the dear soul; no wonder her brothers are anxious about her.


You should see them struggling to settle her cushions, or to hand her coffee!


"When I come into the country," she says (for she has a great deal of humour), "I leave my toady, Miss Briggs, at home.


My brothers are my toadies here, my dear, and a pretty pair they are!"


When she comes into the country our hall is thrown open, and for a month, at least, you would fancy old Sir Walpole was come to life again.

When she comes to stay our hall is thrown open.


We have dinner-parties, and drive out in the coach-and-four--the footmen put on their newest canary-coloured liveries; we drink claret and champagne as if we were accustomed to it every day.

We have dinner-parties, and drink claret and champagne as if we were accustomed to it every day.


We have wax candles in the schoolroom, and fires to warm ourselves with.

We have wax candles in the schoolroom, and fires to warm ourselves.


Lady Crawley is made to put on the brightest pea-green in her wardrobe, and my pupils leave off their thick shoes and tight old tartan pelisses, and wear silk stockings and muslin frocks, as fashionable baronets' daughters should.

My pupils leave off their thick shoes and tight old tartan pelisses, and wear silk stockings and muslin frocks, as fashionable baronets' daughters should.


Rose came in yesterday in a sad plight--the Wiltshire sow (an enormous pet of hers) ran her down, and destroyed a most lovely flowered lilac silk dress by dancing over it--had this happened a week ago, Sir Pitt would have sworn frightfully, have boxed the poor wretch's ears, and put her upon bread and water for a month.


All he said was, "I'll serve you out, Miss, when your aunt's gone," and laughed off the accident as quite trivial.


Let us hope his wrath will have passed away before Miss Crawley's departure.


I hope so, for Miss Rose's sake, I am sure.


What a charming reconciler and peacemaker money is!


Another admirable effect of Miss Crawley and her seventy thousand pounds is to be seen in the conduct of the two brothers Crawley.

Miss Crawley and her seventy thousand pounds have an admirable effect on the two brothers


I mean the baronet and the rector, not OUR brothers--but the former, who hate each other all the year round, become quite loving at Christmas.

, the baronet and the rector, who hate each other all the year round, but become quite loving at Christmas.


I wrote to you last year how the abominable horse-racing rector was in the habit of preaching clumsy sermons at us at church, and how Sir Pitt snored in answer.


When Miss Crawley arrives there is no such thing as quarrelling heard of--the Hall visits the Rectory, and vice versa--the parson and the Baronet talk about the pigs and the poachers, and the county business, in the most affable manner, and without quarrelling in their cups, I believe--indeed Miss Crawley won't hear of their quarrelling, and vows that she will leave her money to the Shropshire Crawleys if they offend her.

When Miss Crawley arrives there is no quarrelling - they talk in the most affable manner, and indeed Miss Crawley vows that she will leave her money elsewhere if they offend her.


If they were clever people, those Shropshire Crawleys, they might have it all, I think; but the Shropshire Crawley is a clergyman like his Hampshire cousin, and mortally offended Miss Crawley (who had fled thither in a fit of rage against her impracticable brethren) by some strait-laced notions of morality.


He would have prayers in the house, I believe.


Our sermon books are shut up when Miss Crawley arrives, and Mr. Pitt, whom she abominates, finds it convenient to go to town.

Our sermon books are shut when Miss Crawley arrives, and young Mr. Pitt, whom she hates, has gone to town.


On the other hand, the young dandy--"blood," I believe, is the term--Captain Crawley makes his appearance, and I suppose you will like to know what sort of a person he is.

On the other hand, Captain Rawdon Crawley has appeared, and I suppose you will like to know what sort of a person he is.


He is six feet high, and speaks with a great voice; and swears a great deal; and orders about the servants, who all adore him nevertheless; for he is very generous of his money, and the domestics will do anything for him.

He is six feet high, and speaks with a loud voice, and swears a great deal; and orders about the servants, who all adore him nevertheless; for he is very generous with his money.


Last week the keepers almost killed a bailiff and his man who came down from London to arrest the Captain, and who were found lurking about the Park wall--they beat them, ducked them, and were going to shoot them for poachers, but the baronet interfered.

Last week the gamekeepers almost killed a bailiff and his man who came down from London to arrest the Captain for debt, and who were found lurking about the Park wall.


The Captain has a hearty contempt for his father, I can see, and calls him an old PUT, an old SNOB, an old CHAW-BACON, and numberless other pretty names.

The Captain has a hearty contempt for his father, and calls him an old SNOB, a CHAW-BACON, and other pretty names.


He has a DREADFUL REPUTATION among the ladies.


He brings his hunters home with him, lives with the Squires of the county, asks whom he pleases to dinner, and Sir Pitt dares not say no, for fear of offending Miss Crawley, and missing his legacy when she dies of her apoplexy.


Shall I tell you a compliment the Captain paid me?


One evening we actually had a dance; there was Sir Huddleston Fuddleston and his family, Sir Giles Wapshot and his young ladies, and I don't know how many more.

One evening we actually had a dance; there was Sir Huddleston Fuddleston and his family, Sir Giles Wapshot and his young ladies, and many more.


Well, I heard him say--"By Jove, she's a neat little filly!"

Well, I heard him say, "By Jove, she's a neat little filly!"


meaning your humble servant; and he did me the honour to dance two country-dances with me.

meaning your humble servant; and he danced two country-dances with me.


He gets on pretty gaily with the young Squires, with whom he drinks, bets, rides, and talks about hunting and shooting; but he says the country girls are BORES; indeed, I don't think he is far wrong.

He says the country girls are BORES. Indeed, I don't think he is far wrong.


You should see the contempt with which they look down on poor me!


When they dance I sit and play the piano very demurely; but the other night, coming in rather flushed from the dining-room, and seeing me employed in this way, he swore out loud that I was the best dancer in the room, and took a great oath that he would have the fiddlers from Mudbury.

When they dance I sit and play the piano very demurely; but the other night, when he saw me playing, he swore that I was the best dancer in the room, and that he would have the fiddlers from Mudbury.


"I'll go and play a country-dance," said Mrs. Bute Crawley, very readily (she is a little, black-faced old woman in a turban, rather crooked, and with very twinkling eyes); and after the Captain and your poor little Rebecca had performed a dance together, do you know she actually did me the honour to compliment me upon my steps!

"I'll play a country-dance," said Mrs. Bute Crawley, very readily (she is a little old woman in a crooked turban); and after the Captain and your poor little Rebecca had performed a dance together, do you know she actually complimented me upon my steps!


Such a thing was never heard of before; the proud Mrs. Bute Crawley, first cousin to the Earl of Tiptoff, who won't condescend to visit Lady Crawley, except when her sister is in the country.

The proud Mrs. Bute Crawley, first cousin to the Earl of Tiptoff!


during most part of these gaieties, she is upstairs taking pills.


Mrs. Bute has all of a sudden taken a great fancy to me.


"My dear Miss Sharp," she says, "why not bring over your girls to the Rectory?--their cousins will be so happy to see them."

"My dear Miss Sharp," she says, "why not bring your girls to the Rectory? Their cousins will be so happy to see them."


Signor Clementi did not teach us the piano for nothing; at which price Mrs. Bute hopes to get a professor for her children.


I can see through her schemes, as though she told them to me; but I shall go, as I am determined to make myself agreeable--is it not a poor governess's duty, who has not a friend or protector in the world?

I see through her schemes: she hopes to get a piano teacher for her children - but I shall go, and make myself agreeable - is it not a poor governess's duty, who has not a friend in the world?


The Rector's wife paid me a score of compliments about the progress my pupils made, and thought, no doubt, to touch my heart--poor, simple, country soul!--as if I cared a fig about my pupils!

The Rector's wife paid me a score of compliments about my pupils' progress, and thought, no doubt, to touch my heart - poor, simple, country soul! As if I cared a fig about my pupils!


Your India muslin and your pink silk, dearest Amelia, are said to become me very well.


They are a good deal worn now; but, you know, we poor girls can't afford des fraiches toilettes.

They are a good deal worn now; but, you know, we poor girls can't afford new things.


who have but to drive to St. James's Street, and a dear mother who will give you any thing you ask.

who have but to drive to St. James's Street, and whose mother will give you any thing you ask.


P.S.--I wish you could have seen the faces of the Miss Blackbrooks (Admiral Blackbrook's daughters, my dear), fine young ladies, with dresses from London, when Captain Rawdon selected poor me for a partner!


When Mrs. Bute Crawley (whose artifices our ingenious Rebecca had so soon discovered) had procured from Miss Sharp the promise of a visit, she induced the all-powerful Miss Crawley to make the necessary application to Sir Pitt, and the good-natured old lady, who loved to be gay herself, and to see every one gay and happy round about her, was quite charmed, and ready to establish a reconciliation and intimacy between her two brothers.

When Mrs. Bute Crawley had got the promise of a visit from Miss Sharp, she induced the all-powerful Miss Crawley to ask for Sir Pitt's permission, and the good-natured old lady, who loved to be gay, and to see everyone happy around her, was quite charmed, and ready to establish a reconciliation between her two brothers.


It was therefore agreed that the young people of both families should visit each other frequently for the future, and the friendship of course lasted as long as the jovial old mediatrix was there to keep the peace.

It was therefore agreed that the young people of both families should visit each other frequently, and the friendship lasted as long as the jovial old lady was there to keep the peace.


"Why did you ask that scoundrel, Rawdon Crawley, to dine?"


said the Rector to his lady, as they were walking home through the park.

said the Rector to his lady as they walked back across the park.


He looks down upon us country people as so many blackamoors.


He's never content unless he gets my yellow-sealed wine, which costs me ten shillings a bottle, hang him!


Besides, he's such an infernal character--he's a gambler--he's a drunkard--he's a profligate in every way.

He's a gambler - a drunkard - a profligate in every way.


He shot a man in a duel--he's over head and ears in debt, and he's robbed me and mine of the best part of Miss Crawley's fortune.

He shot a man in a duel, he's head over ears in debt, and he's robbed us of the best part of Miss Crawley's fortune.


Waxy says she has him"--here the Rector shook his fist at the moon, with something very like an oath, and added, in a melancholious tone, "--down in her will for fifty thousand; and there won't be above thirty to divide."

She has him down in her will for fifty thousand."


"I think she's going," said the Rector's wife.


"She was very red in the face when we left dinner.


"She drank seven glasses of champagne," said the reverend gentleman, in a low voice; "and filthy champagne it is, too, that my brother poisons us with--but you women never know what's what."

"She drank seven glasses of champagne," said the reverend; "and filthy champagne it is, too, that my brother poisons us with - but you women never know what's what."


"We know nothing," said Mrs. Bute Crawley.


"She drank cherry-brandy after dinner," continued his Reverence, "and took curacao with her coffee.

"She drank cherry-brandy after dinner," continued his Reverence, "and curacao with her coffee.


I wouldn't take a glass for a five-pound note: it kills me with heartburn.


She can't stand it, Mrs. Crawley--she must go--flesh and blood won't bear it!


and I lay five to two, Matilda drops in a year."


Indulging in these solemn speculations, and thinking about his debts, and his son Jim at College, and Frank at Woolwich, and the four girls, who were no beauties, poor things, and would not have a penny but what they got from the aunt's expected legacy, the Rector and his lady walked on for a while.

Thinking about his debts, and his son Jim at College, and Frank at Woolwich, and the four girls, who were no beauties, poor things, and would not have a penny but what they got from the aunt's legacy, the Rector and his lady walked on for a while.


"Pitt can't be such an infernal villain as to sell the reversion of the living.


And that Methodist milksop of an eldest son looks to Parliament," continued Mr. Crawley, after a pause.


"Sir Pitt Crawley will do anything," said the Rector's wife.

"Sir Pitt will do anything," said the Rector's wife.


"We must get Miss Crawley to make him promise it to James."


"Pitt will promise anything," replied the brother.


"He promised he'd pay my college bills, when my father died; he promised he'd build the new wing to the Rectory; he promised he'd let me have Jibb's field and the Six-acre Meadow--and much he executed his promises!

"He promised he'd pay my college bills; he promised he'd build the new wing to the Rectory; he promised he'd let me have the Six-acre Meadow - and much he kept his promises!


And it's to this man's son--this scoundrel, gambler, swindler, murderer of a Rawdon Crawley, that Matilda leaves the bulk of her money.

And it's to this man's son - this scoundrel, gambler, swindler, murderer of a Rawdon Crawley, that Matilda leaves most of her money.


The infamous dog has got every vice except hypocrisy, and that belongs to his brother."


we're in Sir Pitt's grounds," interposed his wife.


"I say he has got every vice, Mrs. Crawley.


Didn't he rob young Lord Dovedale at the Cocoa-Tree?


Didn't he cross the fight between Bill Soames and the Cheshire Trump, by which I lost forty pound?


You know he did; and as for the women, why, you heard that before me, in my own magistrate's room."


"For heaven's sake, Mr. Crawley," said the lady, "spare me the details."


"And you ask this villain into your house!"


"You, the mother of a young family--the wife of a clergyman of the Church of England.


"Bute Crawley, you are a fool," said the Rector's wife scornfully.

"Bute Crawley, you are a fool," said his wife scornfully.


"Well, Ma'am, fool or not--and I don't say, Martha, I'm so clever as you are, I never did.

"Well, Martha, fool or not - and I don't say I'm as clever as you are


But I won't meet Rawdon Crawley, that's flat.

- but I won't meet Rawdon Crawley, that's flat.


I'll go over to Huddleston, that I will, and see his black greyhound, Mrs. Crawley; and I'll run Lancelot against him for fifty.

I'll go over to Huddleston, that I will, and see his black greyhound.


By Jove, I will; or against any dog in England.


But I won't meet that beast Rawdon Crawley."


"Mr. Crawley, you are intoxicated, as usual," replied his wife.


And the next morning, when the Rector woke, and called for small beer, she put him in mind of his promise to visit Sir Huddleston Fuddleston on Saturday, and as he knew he should have a wet night, it was agreed that he might gallop back again in time for church on Sunday morning.

The next morning, when the Rector woke, she reminded him of his promise to visit Sir Huddleston Fuddleston on Saturday, and it was agreed that he might gallop back in time for church on Sunday morning.


Thus it will be seen that the parishioners of Crawley were equally happy in their Squire and in their Rector.


Miss Crawley had not long been established at the Hall before Rebecca's fascinations had won the heart of that good-natured London rake, as they had of the country innocents whom we have been describing.

The heiress Miss Crawley had not been long at the Hall before Rebecca's fascinations had won her good-natured heart.


Taking her accustomed drive, one day, she thought fit to order that "that little governess" should accompany her to Mudbury.

Taking her usual drive one day, she ordered "that little governess" to accompany her to Mudbury.


Before they had returned Rebecca had made a conquest of her; having made her laugh four times, and amused her during the whole of the little journey.

Before they had returned Rebecca had made a conquest of her; having made her laugh four times, and amused her during the whole journey.


said she to Sir Pitt, who had arranged a dinner of ceremony, and asked all the neighbouring baronets.

said she to Sir Pitt, who had arranged a dinner for all the neighbouring baronets.


"My dear creature, do you suppose I can talk about the nursery with Lady Fuddleston, or discuss justices' business with that goose, old Sir Giles Wapshot?


Let Lady Crawley remain upstairs, if there is no room.


Why, she's the only person fit to talk to in the county!"


Of course, after such a peremptory order as this, Miss Sharp, the governess, received commands to dine with the illustrious company below stairs.

Of course, after such an order as this, Miss Sharp received commands to dine with the illustrious company.


And when Sir Huddleston had, with great pomp and ceremony, handed Miss Crawley in to dinner, and was preparing to take his place by her side, the old lady cried out, in a shrill voice, "Becky Sharp!

And when Sir Huddleston had, with great pomp, handed Miss Crawley in to dinner, and was preparing to take his place by her side, the old lady cried out in a shrill voice, "Becky Sharp!


Come you and sit by me and amuse me; and let Sir Huddleston sit by Lady Wapshot."

Come and sit by me and amuse me; and let Sir Huddleston sit by Lady Wapshot."


When the parties were over, and the carriages had rolled away, the insatiable Miss Crawley would say, "Come to my dressing room, Becky, and let us abuse the company"--which, between them, this pair of friends did perfectly.

When the parties were over, and the carriages had rolled away, Miss Crawley would say, "Come to my dressing room, Becky, and let us abuse the company" - which, between them, they did perfectly.


Old Sir Huddleston wheezed a great deal at dinner; Sir Giles Wapshot had a particularly noisy manner of imbibing his soup, and her ladyship a wink of the left eye; all of which Becky caricatured to admiration; as well as the particulars of the night's conversation; the politics; the war; the quarter-sessions; the famous run with the H.H., and those heavy and dreary themes, about which country gentlemen converse.

Old Sir Huddleston wheezed at dinner; Sir Giles Wapshot slurped his soup, and her ladyship had a wink of the left eye; all of which Becky caricatured admirably.


As for the Misses Wapshot's toilettes and Lady Fuddleston's famous yellow hat, Miss Sharp tore them to tatters, to the infinite amusement of her audience.


"My dear, you are a perfect trouvaille," Miss Crawley would say.

"My dear, you are a perfect find," Miss Crawley would say.


"I wish you could come to me in London, but I couldn't make a butt of you as I do of poor Briggs no, no, you little sly creature; you are too clever--Isn't she, Firkin?"

"I wish you could come to me in London, but I couldn't make a butt of you as I do of poor Briggs my companion, you little sly creature; you are too clever. Isn't she, Firkin?"


Mrs. Firkin (who was dressing the very small remnant of hair which remained on Miss Crawley's pate), flung up her head and said, "I think Miss is very clever," with the most killing sarcastic air.

Her maid Firkin (who was dressing the very small remnant of hair on Miss Crawley's pate), flung up her head and said, "I think Miss is very clever," with the most killing sarcastic air.


In fact, Mrs. Firkin had that natural jealousy which is one of the main principles of every honest woman.


After rebuffing Sir Huddleston Fuddleston, Miss Crawley ordered that Rawdon Crawley should lead her in to dinner every day, and that Becky should follow with her cushion--or else she would have Becky's arm and Rawdon with the pillow.

After this, Miss Crawley ordered that Rawdon Crawley should lead her in to dinner every day, and that Becky should follow.


"We're the only three Christians in the county, my love"--in which case, it must be confessed, that religion was at a very low ebb in the county of Hants.

"We're the only three Christians in the county, my love" - in which case, it must be confessed that religion was at a very low ebb in Hampshire.


Besides being such a fine religionist, Miss Crawley was, as we have said, an Ultra-liberal in opinions, and always took occasion to express these in the most candid manner.

Miss Crawley was, as we have said, an Ultra-liberal in opinions, and always expressed these in the most candid manner.


she would say to Rebecca--"Look at my brother Pitt; look at the Huddlestons, who have been here since Henry II; look at poor Bute at the parsonage--is any one of them equal to you in intelligence or breeding?

she would say to Rebecca. "Look at my brother Pitt; look at the Huddlestons; look at poor Bute - is any of them equal to you in intelligence or breeding?


Equal to you--they are not even equal to poor dear Briggs, my companion, or Bowls, my butler.


You, my love, are a little paragon--positively a little jewel--You have more brains than half the shire--if merit had its reward you ought to be a Duchess--no, there ought to be no duchesses at all--but you ought to have no superior, and I consider you, my love, as my equal in every respect; and--will you put some coals on the fire, my dear; and will you pick this dress of mine, and alter it, you who can do it so well?"

You, my love, are a little jewel - you have more brains than half the shire. I consider you, my love, as my equal in every respect; and - will you put some coals on the fire, my dear; and alter this dress of mine, you who can do it so well?"


So this old philanthropist used to make her equal run of her errands, execute her millinery, and read her to sleep with French novels, every night.

So this old philanthropist used to make Becky run errands, do her sewing, and read her to sleep with French novels, every night.


At this time, as some old readers may recollect, the genteel world had been thrown into a considerable state of excitement by two events, which, as the papers say, might give employment to the gentlemen of the long robe.

At this time, as some older readers may recollect, the genteel world had been thrown into excitement by two events


Ensign Shafton had run away with Lady Barbara Fitzurse, the Earl of Bruin's daughter and heiress; and poor Vere Vane, a gentleman who, up to forty, had maintained a most respectable character and reared a numerous family, suddenly and outrageously left his home, for the sake of Mrs. Rougemont, the actress, who was sixty-five years of age.

: Ensign Shafton had run away with Lady Barbara Fitzurse; and poor Vere Vane, a gentleman who had a most respectable character and numerous children, suddenly and outrageously left his home, for the sake of Mrs. Rougemont, the actress, who was sixty-five.


"That was the most beautiful part of dear Lord Nelson's character," Miss Crawley said.


There must be good in a man who will do that.


I adore all imprudent matches.-- What I like best, is for a nobleman to marry a miller's daughter, as Lord Flowerdale did--it makes all the women so angry--I wish some great man would run away with you, my dear; I'm sure you're pretty enough."

"I adore impudent matches," Miss Crawley said. "What I like best, is for a nobleman to marry a miller's daughter, as Lord Flowerdale did - it makes all the women so angry. I wish some great man would run away with you, my dear; I'm sure you're pretty enough."


"Two post-boys!--Oh, it would be delightful!"


"And what I like next best, is for a poor fellow to run away with a rich girl.


I have set my heart on Rawdon running away with some one."

I have set my heart on Rawdon running away with someone."


Rawdon has not a shilling but what I give him.


He is crible de dettes--he must repair his fortunes, and succeed in the world."

He must repair his fortunes, and succeed in the world."


"Clever, my love?--not an idea in the world beyond his horses, and his regiment, and his hunting, and his play; but he must succeed--he's so delightfully wicked.

"Clever, my love? Not an idea in the world beyond his horses, and his regiment, and his hunting; but he must succeed - he's so delightfully wicked.


Don't you know he has hit a man, and shot an injured father through the hat only?

Don't you know he has shot an injured father through the hat?


He's adored in his regiment; and all the young men at Wattier's and the Cocoa-Tree swear by him."

He's adored in his regiment; and all the young men at the Cocoa-Tree swear by him."


When Miss Rebecca Sharp wrote to her beloved friend the account of the little ball at Queen's Crawley, and the manner in which, for the first time, Captain Crawley had distinguished her, she did not, strange to relate, give an altogether accurate account of the transaction.

When Miss Rebecca Sharp wrote to her beloved Amelia about the little ball at Queen's Crawley, and how Captain Crawley had first distinguished her, she did not, strange to say, give an altogether accurate account.


The Captain had distinguished her a great number of times before.


The Captain had met her in a half-score of walks.


The Captain had lighted upon her in a half-hundred of corridors and passages.


The Captain had hung over her piano twenty times of an evening (my Lady was now upstairs, being ill, and nobody heeded her) as Miss Sharp sang.

He had hung over her piano twenty times of an evening (my Lady was now upstairs, being ill, and nobody heeded her) as Miss Sharp sang.


The Captain had written her notes (the best that the great blundering dragoon could devise and spell; but dulness gets on as well as any other quality with women).


But when he put the first of the notes into the leaves of the song she was singing, the little governess, rising and looking him steadily in the face, took up the triangular missive daintily, and waved it about as if it were a cocked hat, and she, advancing to the enemy, popped the note into the fire, and made him a very low curtsey, and went back to her place, and began to sing away again more merrily than ever.

but when he put the first note into the pages of the song she was singing, the little governess, rising and looking him steadily in the face, took up the missive daintily, and popped it into the fire. Making him a low curtsey, she went back to her place, and began to sing away again more merrily than ever.


said Miss Crawley, interrupted in her after-dinner doze by the stoppage of the music.


"It's a false note," Miss Sharp said with a laugh; and Rawdon Crawley fumed with rage and mortification.


Seeing the evident partiality of Miss Crawley for the new governess, how good it was of Mrs. Bute Crawley not to be jealous, and to welcome the young lady to the Rectory, and not only her, but Rawdon Crawley, her husband's rival in the Old Maid's five per cents!

Yet Mrs. Bute Crawley was not jealous, but welcomed the young lady to the Rectory - and not only her, but Rawdon Crawley, her husband's rival for the old maid's fortune!


They became very fond of each other's society, Mrs. Crawley and her nephew.

They became very fond of each other's society, Mrs. Bute Crawley and Rawdon.


He gave up hunting; he declined entertainments at Fuddleston: he would not dine with the mess of the depot at Mudbury: his great pleasure was to stroll over to Crawley parsonage--whither Miss Crawley came too; and as their mamma was ill, why not the children with Miss Sharp?

He gave up hunting; his great pleasure was to stroll over to Crawley parsonage where Miss Crawley came too, and as their mamma was ill, the children with Miss Sharp.


came with Miss Sharp; and of an evening some of the party would walk back together.

In the evening some of them would walk back together.


Not Miss Crawley--she preferred her carriage--but the walk over the Rectory fields, and in at the little park wicket, and through the dark plantation, and up the checkered avenue to Queen's Crawley, was charming in the moonlight to two such lovers of the picturesque as the Captain and Miss Rebecca.

Not Miss Crawley - she preferred her carriage - but the walk over the Rectory fields, and in at the little wicket gate, and up the checkered avenue in the moonlight, was charming to two such lovers of the picturesque as the Captain and Rebecca.


Miss Rebecca would say, turning her twinkling green eyes up towards them.

Miss Rebecca would say, turning her green eyes up towards them.


"I feel myself almost a spirit when I gaze upon them."


"O--ah--Gad--yes, so do I exactly, Miss Sharp," the other enthusiast replied.

"O - ah - Gad - yes, so do I, exactly, Miss Sharp," the other replied.


"You don't mind my cigar, do you, Miss Sharp?"


Miss Sharp loved the smell of a cigar out of doors beyond everything in the world--and she just tasted one too, in the prettiest way possible, and gave a little puff, and a little scream, and a little giggle, and restored the delicacy to the Captain, who twirled his moustache, and straightway puffed it into a blaze that glowed quite red in the dark plantation, and swore--"Jove--aw--Gad--aw--it's the finest segaw I ever smoked in the world aw," for his intellect and conversation were alike brilliant and becoming to a heavy young dragoon.

Miss Sharp loved the smell of a cigar - and she just tasted one too, in the prettiest way possible, and gave a little puff, and a little scream, and a little giggle, and restored it to the Captain, who twirled his moustache, and puffed it into a red blaze, swearing - "Jove - aw - Gad - it's the finest segaw I ever smoked," for his intellect and conversation were alike as became a heavy young dragoon.


Old Sir Pitt, who was taking his pipe and beer, and talking to John Horrocks about a "ship" that was to be killed, espied the pair so occupied from his study-window, and with dreadful oaths swore that if it wasn't for Miss Crawley, he'd take Rawdon and bundle un out of doors, like a rogue as he was.

Old Sir Pitt, who was talking to John Horrocks, espied the pair from his study-window, and with dreadful oaths swore that if it wasn't for Miss Crawley, he'd take Rawdon and bundle un out of doors, like the rogue he was.


"He be a bad'n, sure enough," Mr. Horrocks remarked; "and his man Flethers is wuss, and have made such a row in the housekeeper's room about the dinners and hale, as no lord would make--but I think Miss Sharp's a match for'n, Sir Pitt," he added, after a pause.

"He be a bad'n, sure enough," Mr. Horrocks remarked; "but I think Miss Sharp's a match for'n, Sir Pitt."


And so, in truth, she was--for father and son too.

And so, in truth, she was - for father and son too.


At last Becky's kindness and attention to the chief of her husband's family were destined to meet with an exceeding great reward, a reward which, though certainly somewhat unsubstantial, the little woman coveted with greater eagerness than more positive benefits.

At last Becky's kindness and attention to the head of her husband's family were destined to meet with a reward, one which she coveted eagerly.

Chapter 48: In Which the Reader Is Introduced to the Very Best of Company


If she did not wish to lead a virtuous life, at least she desired to enjoy a character for virtue, and we know that no lady in the genteel world can possess this desideratum, until she has put on a train and feathers and has been presented to her Sovereign at Court.

If she did not wish to lead a virtuous life, she wished to have a virtuous reputation, something no lady can possess until she has put on a train and feathers and has been presented to her Sovereign at Court.


From that august interview they come out stamped as honest women.


The Lord Chamberlain gives them a certificate of virtue.


And as dubious goods or letters are passed through an oven at quarantine, sprinkled with aromatic vinegar, and then pronounced clean, many a lady, whose reputation would be doubtful otherwise and liable to give infection, passes through the wholesome ordeal of the Royal presence and issues from it free from all taint.


It might be very well for my Lady Bareacres, my Lady Tufto, Mrs. Bute Crawley in the country, and other ladies who had come into contact with Mrs. Rawdon Crawley to cry fie at the idea of the odious little adventuress making her curtsey before the Sovereign, and to declare that, if dear good Queen Charlotte had been alive, she never would have admitted such an extremely ill-regulated personage into her chaste drawing-room.

My Lady Bareacres, my Lady Tufto, and Mrs. Bute Crawley might indeed cry fie at the idea of the odious little adventuress curtseying before the Sovereign.


But when we consider that it was the First Gentleman in Europe in whose high presence Mrs. Rawdon passed her examination, and as it were, took her degree in reputation, it surely must be flat disloyalty to doubt any more about her virtue.


I, for my part, look back with love and awe to that Great Character in history.

I, for my part, look back with love and awe to that Great Character.


Ah, what a high and noble appreciation of Gentlewomanhood there must have been in Vanity Fair, when that revered and august being was invested, by the universal acclaim of the refined and educated portion of this empire, with the title of Premier Gentilhomme of his Kingdom.

Ah, what a high and noble appreciation of Gentlewomanhood there must have been in Vanity Fair, when the revered and august Prince Regent was crowned King!


Do you remember, dear M--, oh friend of my youth, how one blissful night five-and-twenty years since, the "Hypocrite" being acted, Elliston being manager, Dowton and Liston performers, two boys had leave from their loyal masters to go out from Slaughter-House School where they were educated and to appear on Drury Lane stage, amongst a crowd which assembled there to greet the king.


Beefeaters were before the august box; the Marquis of Steyne (Lord of the Powder Closet) and other great officers of state were behind the chair on which he sat, HE sat--florid of face, portly of person, covered with orders, and in a rich curling head of hair--how we sang God save him!

theatre: florid of face, portly of person, covered with medals, and with a rich curling head of hair - how we sang God save him!


How the house rocked and shouted with that magnificent music.


How they cheered, and cried, and waved handkerchiefs.


Ladies wept; mothers clasped their children; some fainted with emotion.


People were suffocated in the pit, shrieks and groans rising up amidst the writhing and shouting mass there of his people who were, and indeed showed themselves almost to be, ready to die for him.


Some few still exist who have beheld Frederick the Great, Doctor Johnson, Marie Antoinette, &c.--be it our reasonable boast to our children, that we saw George the Good, the Magnificent, the Great.


Well, there came a happy day in Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's existence when this angel was admitted into the paradise of a Court which she coveted, her sister-in-law acting as her godmother.

Well, there came a happy day for Mrs. Rawdon Crawley when she was admitted into the paradise of Court.


On the appointed day, Sir Pitt and his lady, in their great family carriage (just newly built, and ready for the Baronet's assumption of the office of High Sheriff of his county), drove up to the little house in Curzon Street, to the edification of Raggles, who was watching from his greengrocer's shop, and saw fine plumes within, and enormous bunches of flowers in the breasts of the new livery-coats of the footmen.

On the appointed day, Sir Pitt and his lady, in their great family carriage, drove up to the little house in Curzon Street, to the admiration of Raggles, watching from his greengrocer's shop.


Sir Pitt, in a glittering uniform, descended and went into Curzon Street, his sword between his legs.

Sir Pitt, in a glittering uniform, descended into Curzon Street.


Little Rawdon stood with his face against the parlour window-panes, smiling and nodding with all his might to his aunt in the carriage within; and presently Sir Pitt issued forth from the house again, leading forth a lady with grand feathers, covered in a white shawl, and holding up daintily a train of magnificent brocade.

Little Rawdon stood with his face against the window, smiling to his aunt in the carriage; and presently Sir Pitt came forth from the house leading a lady with grand feathers, covered in a white shawl, and holding up a train of magnificent brocade.


She stepped into the vehicle as if she were a princess and accustomed all her life to go to Court, smiling graciously on the footman at the door and on Sir Pitt, who followed her into the carriage.

She stepped graciously into the vehicle as if she were a princess.


Then Rawdon followed in his old Guards' uniform, which had grown woefully shabby, and was much too tight.

Rawdon followed in his old Guard's uniform, which had grown woefully shabby, and much too tight.


He was to have followed the procession and waited upon his sovereign in a cab, but that his good-natured sister-in-law insisted that they should be a family party.


The coach was large, the ladies not very big, they would hold their trains in their laps--finally, the four went fraternally together, and their carriage presently joined the line of royal equipages which was making its way down Piccadilly and St. James's Street, towards the old brick palace where the Star of Brunswick was in waiting to receive his nobles and gentlefolks.

The carriage joined the line of royal equipages which was making its way down Piccadilly and St. James's Street towards the old brick St. James's Palace.


Becky felt as if she could bless the people out of the carriage windows, so elated was she in spirit, and so strong a sense had she of the dignified position which she had at last attained in life.

Becky felt as if she could bless the people out of the carriage windows, so elated was she, and so conscious of the dignified position which she had at last attained.


Even our Becky had her weaknesses, and as one often sees how men pride themselves upon excellences which others are slow to perceive: how, for instance, Comus firmly believes that he is the greatest tragic actor in England; how Brown, the famous novelist, longs to be considered, not a man of genius, but a man of fashion; while Robinson, the great lawyer, does not in the least care about his reputation in Westminster Hall, but believes himself incomparable across country and at a five-barred gate--so to be, and to be thought, a respectable woman was Becky's aim in life, and she got up the genteel with amazing assiduity, readiness, and success.

Even our Becky had her weaknesses, and to be thought a respectable woman was her aim in life.


We have said, there were times when she believed herself to be a fine lady and forgot that there was no money in the chest at home--duns round the gate, tradesmen to coax and wheedle--no ground to walk upon, in a word.


And as she went to Court in the carriage, the family carriage, she adopted a demeanour so grand, self-satisfied, deliberate, and imposing that it made even Lady Jane laugh.

She adopted a demeanour so grand, self-satisfied, deliberate, and imposing that it made even Lady Jane laugh.


She walked into the royal apartments with a toss of the head which would have befitted an empress, and I have no doubt had she been one, she would have become the character perfectly.

She walked into the royal apartments with a toss of the head which would have befitted an empress.


We are authorized to state that Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's costume de cour on the occasion of her presentation to the Sovereign was of the most elegant and brilliant description.

Her costume was of the most elegant and brilliant description.


Some ladies we may have seen--we who wear stars and cordons and attend the St. James's assemblies, or we, who, in muddy boots, dawdle up and down Pall Mall and peep into the coaches as they drive up with the great folks in their feathers--some ladies of fashion, I say, we may have seen, about two o'clock of the forenoon of a levee day, as the laced-jacketed band of the Life Guards are blowing triumphal marches seated on those prancing music-stools, their cream-coloured chargers--who are by no means lovely and enticing objects at that early period of noon.

Some ladies are by no means lovely and enticing objects at that early time of noon.


A stout countess of sixty, decolletee, painted, wrinkled with rouge up to her drooping eyelids, and diamonds twinkling in her wig, is a wholesome and edifying, but not a pleasant sight.

A stout countess of sixty, dcollete, painted and wrinkled with rouge up to her drooping eyelids, is an edifying, but not a pleasant sight.


She has the faded look of a St. James's Street illumination, as it may be seen of an early morning, when half the lamps are out, and the others are blinking wanly, as if they were about to vanish like ghosts before the dawn.


Such charms as those of which we catch glimpses while her ladyship's carriage passes should appear abroad at night alone.


If even Cynthia looks haggard of an afternoon, as we may see her sometimes in the present winter season, with Phoebus staring her out of countenance from the opposite side of the heavens, how much more can old Lady Castlemouldy keep her head up when the sun is shining full upon it through the chariot windows, and showing all the chinks and crannies with which time has marked her face!


Drawing-rooms should be announced for November, or the first foggy day, or the elderly sultanas of our Vanity Fair should drive up in closed litters, descend in a covered way, and make their curtsey to the Sovereign under the protection of lamplight.

Drawing-rooms should be announced for November, or the first foggy day; or the elderly ladies of Vanity Fair should drive up in closed litters, descend in a covered way, and make their curtsey to the Sovereign under the protection of lamplight.


Our beloved Rebecca had no need, however, of any such a friendly halo to set off her beauty.

Our beloved Rebecca had no need, however, of any such friendly shadow.


Her complexion could bear any sunshine as yet, and her dress, though if you were to see it now, any present lady of Vanity Fair would pronounce it to be the most foolish and preposterous attire ever worn, was as handsome in her eyes and those of the public, some five-and-twenty years since, as the most brilliant costume of the most famous beauty of the present season.

Her complexion could bear any sunshine, and her dress, though nowadays any lady of Vanity Fair would pronounce it to be preposterous, was brilliantly handsome in her eyes and those of the public.


A score of years hence that too, that milliner's wonder, will have passed into the domain of the absurd, along with all previous vanities.


Mrs. Rawdon's dress was pronounced to be charmante on the eventful day of her presentation.


Even good little Lady Jane was forced to acknowledge this effect, as she looked at her kinswoman, and owned sorrowfully to herself that she was quite inferior in taste to Mrs. Becky.

Even good little Lady Jane was forced to acknowledge this, and owned sorrowfully to herself that she was quite inferior in taste to Mrs. Becky.


She did not know how much care, thought, and genius Mrs. Rawdon had bestowed upon that garment.

She did not know how much care, thought, and genius Mrs. Rawdon had bestowed upon that dress.


Rebecca had as good taste as any milliner in Europe, and such a clever way of doing things as Lady Jane little understood.

Rebecca had a clever way of doing things that Lady Jane little understood.


The latter quickly spied out the magnificence of the brocade of Becky's train, and the splendour of the lace on her dress.

Lady Jane quickly spied the magnificence of Becky's brocade, and the splendour of her lace.


The brocade was an old remnant, Becky said; and as for the lace, it was a great bargain.


"My dear Mrs. Crawley, it must have cost a little fortune," Lady Jane said, looking down at her own lace, which was not nearly so good; and then examining the quality of the ancient brocade which formed the material of Mrs. Rawdon's Court dress, she felt inclined to say that she could not afford such fine clothing, but checked that speech, with an effort, as one uncharitable to her kinswoman.

"My dear Mrs. Crawley, it must have cost a small fortune," Lady Jane said, looking down at her own lace, which was not nearly so good; she wanted to say that she could not afford such fine clothing, but checked that speech as uncharitable.


And yet, if Lady Jane had known all, I think even her kindly temper would have failed her.


The fact is, when she was putting Sir Pitt's house in order, Mrs. Rawdon had found the lace and the brocade in old wardrobes, the property of the former ladies of the house, and had quietly carried the goods home, and had suited them to her own little person.

The fact is, when she was putting Sir Pitt's house in order, Mrs. Rawdon had found the lace and the brocade in old wardrobes, and had quietly carried them home.


Briggs saw her take them, asked no questions, told no stories; but I believe quite sympathised with her on this matter, and so would many another honest woman.


And the diamonds--"Where the doose did you get the diamonds, Becky?"

And the diamonds - "Where the doose did you get the diamonds, Becky?"


said her husband, admiring some jewels which he had never seen before and which sparkled in her ears and on her neck with brilliance and profusion.

said her husband, admiring some jewels which he had never seen before and which sparkled on her ears and neck.


Becky blushed a little and looked at him hard for a moment.


Pitt Crawley blushed a little too, and looked out of window.

Pitt Crawley blushed a little too, and looked out of the window.


The fact is, he had given her a very small portion of the brilliants; a pretty diamond clasp, which confined a pearl necklace which she wore--and the Baronet had omitted to mention the circumstance to his lady.

The fact is, he had given her a very small portion of the brilliants; a pretty diamond clasp, which he had omitted to mention to his wife.


Becky looked at her husband, and then at Sir Pitt, with an air of saucy triumph--as much as to say, "Shall I betray you?"

Becky looked at her husband, and then at Sir Pitt, with an air of saucy triumph - as much as to say, "Shall I betray you?"


"Why, you silly man," she continued, "where do you suppose I got them?--all except the little clasp, which a dear friend of mine gave me long ago.

"Why, you silly man, where do you suppose I got them? - all except the little clasp, which a dear friend of mine gave me long ago.


I hired them at Mr. Polonius's, in Coventry Street.

, at Mr. Polonius's, in Coventry Street.


You don't suppose that all the diamonds which go to Court belong to the wearers; like those beautiful stones which Lady Jane has, and which are much handsomer than any which I have, I am certain."

You don't suppose that all the diamonds which go to Court belong to the wearers; like those beautiful stones of Lady Jane's, which are far handsomer than any I have?"


"They are family jewels," said Sir Pitt, again looking uneasy.


And in this family conversation the carriage rolled down the street, until its cargo was finally discharged at the gates of the palace where the Sovereign was sitting in state.


The diamonds, which had created Rawdon's admiration, never went back to Mr. Polonius, of Coventry Street, and that gentleman never applied for their restoration, but they retired into a little private repository, in an old desk, which Amelia Sedley had given her years and years ago, and in which Becky kept a number of useful and, perhaps, valuable things, about which her husband knew nothing.

Becky's diamonds never went back to Mr. Polonius, of Coventry Street, and that gentleman never applied for their restoration. They retired into an old desk, which Amelia had given her years ago, and in which Becky kept a number of useful things about which her husband knew nothing.


To know nothing, or little, is in the nature of some husbands.


To hide, in the nature of how many women?

To hide things is in the nature of how many women?


how many of you have surreptitious milliners' bills?


How many of you have gowns and bracelets which you daren't show, or which you wear trembling?--trembling, and coaxing with smiles the husband by your side, who does not know the new velvet gown from the old one, or the new bracelet from last year's, or has any notion that the ragged-looking yellow lace scarf cost forty guineas and that Madame Bobinot is writing dunning letters every week for the money!

How many of you have gowns and bracelets which you daren't show, or which you wear trembling, and trusting that your husband will not know the new velvet gown from the old one?


Thus Rawdon knew nothing about the brilliant diamond ear-rings, or the superb brilliant ornament which decorated the fair bosom of his lady; but Lord Steyne, who was in his place at Court, as Lord of the Powder Closet, and one of the great dignitaries and illustrious defences of the throne of England, and came up with all his stars, garters, collars, and cordons, and paid particular attention to the little woman, knew whence the jewels came and who paid for them.

Thus Rawdon knew nothing about the brilliant diamonds which decorated his lady; but Lord Steyne, who was at Court as Lord of the Powder Closet, wearing all his stars, garters and cordons, knew whence the jewels came and who paid for them.


As he bowed over her he smiled, and quoted the hackneyed and beautiful lines from The Rape of the Lock about Belinda's diamonds, "which Jews might kiss and infidels adore."

As he bowed over Becky he smiled, and quoted the hackneyed and beautiful lines from The Rape of the Lock about Belinda's diamonds, "which Jews might kiss and infidels adore."


"But I hope your lordship is orthodox," said the little lady with a toss of her head.


And many ladies round about whispered and talked, and many gentlemen nodded and whispered, as they saw what marked attention the great nobleman was paying to the little adventuress.

And many ladies round about whispered and talked, and many gentlemen nodded, as they saw what marked attention the great nobleman was paying to the little adventuress.


What were the circumstances of the interview between Rebecca Crawley, nee Sharp, and her Imperial Master, it does not become such a feeble and inexperienced pen as mine to attempt to relate.

Of the interview between Rebecca and her Sovereign, it does not become such a feeble pen as mine to attempt to relate.


The dazzled eyes close before that Magnificent Idea.


Loyal respect and decency tell even the imagination not to look too keenly and audaciously about the sacred audience-chamber, but to back away rapidly, silently, and respectfully, making profound bows out of the August Presence.

We back away rapidly, silently, and respectfully, making profound bows out of the August Presence.


This may be said, that in all London there was no more loyal heart than Becky's after this interview.

This may be said, that in all London there was no more loyal heart than Becky's afterwards.


The name of her king was always on her lips, and he was proclaimed by her to be the most charming of men.

The name of her king was always on her lips, and she said he was the most charming of men.


She went to Colnaghi's and ordered the finest portrait of him that art had produced, and credit could supply.


She chose that famous one in which the best of monarchs is represented in a frock-coat with a fur collar, and breeches and silk stockings, simpering on a sofa from under his curly brown wig.


She had him painted in a brooch and wore it--indeed she amused and somewhat pestered her acquaintance with her perpetual talk about his urbanity and beauty.

; she had him painted in a brooch and wore it - indeed she amused and somewhat pestered her acquaintance with her perpetual talk about his urbanity and beauty.


Perhaps the little woman thought she might play the part of a Maintenon or a Pompadour.


But the finest sport of all after her presentation was to hear her talk virtuously.

But best of all after her presentation was to hear her talk virtuously.


She had a few female acquaintances, not, it must be owned, of the very highest reputation in Vanity Fair.

She had a few female acquaintances beforehand,


But being made an honest woman of, so to speak, Becky would not consort any longer with these dubious ones, and cut Lady Crackenbury when the latter nodded to her from her opera-box, and gave Mrs. Washington White the go-by in the Ring.

but after being made an honest woman, so to speak, Becky would not consort any longer with these dubious friends, and cut Lady Crackenbury and Mrs. Washington White.


"One must, my dear, show one is somebody," she said.


"One mustn't be seen with doubtful people.


I pity Lady Crackenbury from my heart, and Mrs. Washington White may be a very good-natured person.


YOU may go and dine with them, as you like your rubber.


But I mustn't, and won't; and you will have the goodness to tell Smith to say I am not at home when either of them calls."


The particulars of Becky's costume were in the newspapers--feathers, lappets, superb diamonds, and all the rest.

The details of Becky's costume were in the newspapers - feathers, diamonds, and all.


Lady Crackenbury read the paragraph in bitterness of spirit and discoursed to her followers about the airs which that woman was giving herself.

Lady Crackenbury read the paragraph in bitterness and told her followers about the airs which that woman was giving herself.


Mrs. Bute Crawley and her young ladies in the country had a copy of the Morning Post from town, and gave a vent to their honest indignation.

Mrs. Bute Crawley and her young ladies in the country read the Morning Post, and gave vent to their honest indignation.


"If you had been sandy-haired, green-eyed, and a French rope-dancer's daughter," Mrs. Bute said to her eldest girl (who, on the contrary, was a very swarthy, short, and snub-nosed young lady), "You might have had superb diamonds forsooth, and have been presented at Court by your cousin, the Lady Jane.

"If you had been sandy-haired, green-eyed, and a French rope-dancer's daughter," Mrs. Bute said to her eldest girl, "you might have had superb diamonds too, and have been presented at Court by Lady Jane.


But you're only a gentlewoman, my poor dear child.


You have only some of the best blood in England in your veins, and good principles and piety for your portion.

, with some of the best blood in England in your veins."


I, myself, the wife of a Baronet's younger brother, too, never thought of such a thing as going to Court--nor would other people, if good Queen Charlotte had been alive."


In this way the worthy Rectoress consoled herself, and her daughters sighed and sat over the Peerage all night.

Thus the worthy Rectoress consoled herself.


A few days after the famous presentation, another great and exceeding honour was vouchsafed to the virtuous Becky.

A few days after the famous presentation, another great honour was paid to the virtuous Becky.


Lady Steyne's carriage drove up to Mr. Rawdon Crawley's door, and the footman, instead of driving down the front of the house, as by his tremendous knocking he appeared to be inclined to do, relented and only delivered in a couple of cards, on which were engraven the names of the Marchioness of Steyne and the Countess of Gaunt.

Lady Steyne's carriage drove up to Mr. Rawdon Crawley's door, and the footman delivered a couple of cards, on which were engraven the names of the Marchioness of Steyne and the Countess of Gaunt.


If these bits of pasteboard had been beautiful pictures, or had had a hundred yards of Malines lace rolled round them, worth twice the number of guineas, Becky could not have regarded them with more pleasure.


You may be sure they occupied a conspicuous place in the china bowl on the drawing-room table, where Becky kept the cards of her visitors.

occupied a conspicuous place on Becky's drawing-room table.


how poor Mrs. Washington White's card and Lady Crackenbury's card--which our little friend had been glad enough to get a few months back, and of which the silly little creature was rather proud once--Lord!


I say, how soon at the appearance of these grand court cards, did those poor little neglected deuces sink down to the bottom of the pack.


we may be sure that Becky and Briggs looked out those august names in the Peerage, and followed the noble races up through all the ramifications of the family tree.


My Lord Steyne coming to call a couple of hours afterwards, and looking about him, and observing everything as was his wont, found his ladies' cards already ranged as the trumps of Becky's hand, and grinned, as this old cynic always did at any naive display of human weakness.

My Lord Steyne, coming to call a couple of hours afterwards, and looking about him, found his ladies' cards already ranged as the trumps of Becky's hand. He grinned, as this old cynic always did at any naive display of human weakness.


Becky came down to him presently; whenever the dear girl expected his lordship, her toilette was prepared, her hair in perfect order, her mouchoirs, aprons, scarfs, little morocco slippers, and other female gimcracks arranged, and she seated in some artless and agreeable posture ready to receive him--whenever she was surprised, of course, she had to fly to her apartment to take a rapid survey of matters in the glass, and to trip down again to wait upon the great peer.

Becky came down to him presently, her hair in perfect order, her aprons, scarfs, little morocco slippers, and other female gimcracks arranged.


She was discovered, and she blushed a little.


I couldn't come before--I was in the kitchen making a pudding."

I couldn't come before - I was in the kitchen making a pudding."


"I know you were, I saw you through the area-railings as I drove up," replied the old gentleman.

"I know you were; I saw you through the area-railings as I drove up," replied the old gentleman.


"A few things, but not that, my pretty lady," he said good-naturedly.

"Not that, my pretty lady," he said good-naturedly.


I heard you in the room overhead, where I have no doubt you were putting a little rouge on--you must give some of yours to my Lady Gaunt, whose complexion is quite preposterous--and I heard the bedroom door open, and then you came downstairs."

I heard you in the room overhead, where I have no doubt you were putting rouge on. You must give some of yours to my Lady Gaunt, whose complexion is quite preposterous."


"Is it a crime to try and look my best when YOU come here?"

"Is it a crime to try and look my best when you come here?"


answered Mrs. Rawdon plaintively, and she rubbed her cheek with her handkerchief as if to show there was no rouge at all, only genuine blushes and modesty in her case.

answered Mrs. Rawdon plaintively, and she rubbed her cheek with her handkerchief as if to show there was no rouge at all, only genuine blushes.


I know there is some rouge that won't come off on a pocket-handkerchief, and some so good that even tears will not disturb it.


"Well," said the old gentleman, twiddling round his wife's card, "you are bent on becoming a fine lady.

"Well," said the old gentleman, "you are bent on becoming a fine lady.


You pester my poor old life out to get you into the world.


You won't be able to hold your own there, you silly little fool.

, but you won't be able to hold your own there, you silly little fool.


"You will get us a place," interposed Becky, "as quick as possible."


"You've got no money, and you want to compete with those who have.


You poor little earthenware pipkin, you want to swim down the stream along with the great copper kettles.


Everybody is striving for what is not worth the having!


I dined with the King yesterday, and we had neck of mutton and turnips.


A dinner of herbs is better than a stalled ox very often.


You give an old fellow no rest until you get there.


My wife is as gay as Lady Macbeth, and my daughters as cheerful as Regan and Goneril.


I daren't sleep in what they call my bedroom.


The bed is like the baldaquin of St. Peter's, and the pictures frighten me.


I have a little brass bed in a dressing-room, and a little hair mattress like an anchorite.

I have a little brass bed in a dressing-room, and a little hair mattress like a monk.


And gare aux femmes, look out and hold your own!


This was a very long speech for a man of few words like my Lord Steyne; nor was it the first which he uttered for Becky's benefit on that day.

This was a very long speech for a man of few words like my Lord Steyne.


Briggs looked up from the work-table at which she was seated in the farther room and gave a deep sigh as she heard the great Marquis speak so lightly of her sex.

At this, Briggs looked up from the work-table at which she was seated, and gave a deep sigh.


"If you don't turn off that abominable sheep-dog," said Lord Steyne, with a savage look over his shoulder at her, "I will have her poisoned."


"I always give my dog dinner from my own plate," said Rebecca, laughing mischievously; and having enjoyed for some time the discomfiture of my lord, who hated poor Briggs for interrupting his tete-a-tete with the fair Colonel's wife, Mrs. Rawdon at length had pity upon her admirer, and calling to Briggs, praised the fineness of the weather to her and bade her to take out the child for a walk.

"I always give my dog dinner from my own plate," said Rebecca, laughing mischievously; and taking pity upon her admirer, she called to Briggs and bade her take the child out for a walk.


"I can't send her away," Becky said presently, after a pause, and in a very sad voice.

"I can't send her away," Becky said after Briggs had gone, in a very sad voice.


Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, and she turned away her head.

Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke.


"Worse than that," said Becky, still casting down her eyes; "I have ruined her."

"Worse than that," said Becky. "I have ruined her."


Last year, when we were reduced to our last guinea, she gave us everything.


She shall never leave me, until we are ruined utterly ourselves, which does not seem far off, or until I can pay her the utmost farthing."

She shall never leave me, until we are ruined utterly ourselves, which does not seem far off, or until I can pay her the last farthing."


And Becky, reflecting on the largeness of his means, mentioned not only the sum which she had borrowed from Miss Briggs, but one of nearly double the amount.

And Becky, reflecting on the largeness of his wealth, mentioned nearly double the amount.


This caused the Lord Steyne to break out in another brief and energetic expression of anger, at which Rebecca held down her head the more and cried bitterly.

Lord Steyne broke out in another brief expression of anger, at which Rebecca held down her head.


He would kill me if I told him what I have done.


I have kept it a secret from everybody but you--and you forced it from me.

I have kept it a secret from everybody but you - and you forced it from me.


Lord Steyne made no reply except by beating the devil's tattoo and biting his nails.

He made no reply except by beating a tattoo with his hands.


At last he clapped his hat on his head and flung out of the room.


Rebecca did not rise from her attitude of misery until the door slammed upon him and his carriage whirled away.

Rebecca did not rise from her attitude of misery until his carriage whirled away.


Then she rose up with the queerest expression of victorious mischief glittering in her green eyes.


She burst out laughing once or twice to herself, as she sat at work, and sitting down to the piano, she rattled away a triumphant voluntary on the keys, which made the people pause under her window to listen to her brilliant music.

Then she burst out laughing to herself, and sitting down to the piano, she rattled away a triumphant tune on the keys.


That night, there came two notes from Gaunt House for the little woman, the one containing a card of invitation from Lord and Lady Steyne to a dinner at Gaunt House next Friday, while the other enclosed a slip of gray paper bearing Lord Steyne's signature and the address of Messrs. Jones, Brown, and Robinson, Lombard Street.

That night, there came two notes from Gaunt House: one containing an invitation from Lord and Lady Steyne to a dinner at Gaunt House next Friday, while the other enclosed a slip of grey paper bearing Lord Steyne's signature and the address of Messrs. Jones, Brown, and Robinson, Bankers.


Rawdon heard Becky laughing in the night once or twice.

Rawdon heard Becky laughing in the night.


It was only her delight at going to Gaunt House and facing the ladies there, she said, which amused her so.


But the truth was that she was occupied with a great number of other thoughts.


Should she pay off old Briggs and give her her conge?


Should she astonish Raggles by settling his account?


She turned over all these thoughts on her pillow, and on the next day, when Rawdon went out to pay his morning visit to the Club, Mrs. Crawley (in a modest dress with a veil on) whipped off in a hackney-coach to the City: and being landed at Messrs. Jones and Robinson's bank, presented a document there to the authority at the desk, who, in reply, asked her "How she would take it?"

She turned over these thoughts on her pillow, and on the next day, when Rawdon went out to his club, Mrs. Crawley, with a veil on, whipped off in a hackney-coach to the City: and at Messrs. Jones, Brown and Robinson's bank, presented a document, and said she would take a hundred and fifty pounds in small notes and the remainder in one note.


She gently said "she would take a hundred and fifty pounds in small notes and the remainder in one note": and passing through St. Paul's Churchyard stopped there and bought the handsomest black silk gown for Briggs which money could buy; and which, with a kiss and the kindest speeches, she presented to the simple old spinster.

Passing through St. Paul's Churchyard, she stopped and bought the handsomest black silk gown for Briggs which money could buy; and which, with a kiss and a kind speech, she presented to the simple old spinster.


Then she walked to Mr. Raggles, inquired about his children affectionately, and gave him fifty pounds on account.


Then she went to the livery-man from whom she jobbed her carriages and gratified him with a similar sum.

Next she went to the livery-man from whom she hired her carriages, and gratified him with a similar sum.


"And I hope this will be a lesson to you, Spavin," she said, "and that on the next drawing-room day my brother, Sir Pitt, will not be inconvenienced by being obliged to take four of us in his carriage to wait upon His Majesty, because my own carriage is not forthcoming."


It appears there had been a difference on the last drawing-room day.


Hence the degradation which the Colonel had almost suffered, of being obliged to enter the presence of his Sovereign in a hack cab.


These arrangements concluded, Becky paid a visit upstairs to the before-mentioned desk, which Amelia Sedley had given her years and years ago, and which contained a number of useful and valuable little things--in which private museum she placed the one note which Messrs. Jones and Robinson's cashier had given her.

After this, Becky paid a visit upstairs to the before-mentioned desk, which Amelia had given her years and years ago, and which contained a number of useful and valuable little things. Here she placed the one note which the bank cashier had given her.


We have seen how Mrs. Firkin, the lady's maid, as soon as any event of importance to the Crawley family came to her knowledge, felt bound to communicate it to Mrs. Bute Crawley, at the Rectory; and have before mentioned how particularly kind and attentive that good-natured lady was to Miss Crawley's confidential servant.

We have mentioned how kind and attentive Mrs Bute Crawley was to Firkin, Miss Crawley's confidential servant.


She had been a gracious friend to Miss Briggs, the companion, also; and had secured the latter's good-will by a number of those attentions and promises, which cost so little in the making, and are yet so valuable and agreeable to the recipient.

She was a gracious friend to Miss Briggs, the companion, also; and had gained her good-will with those promises which cost so little in the making, and are yet so agreeable to the recipient.


Indeed every good economist and manager of a household must know how cheap and yet how amiable these professions are, and what a flavour they give to the most homely dish in life.

Indeed every good economist must know how cheap yet amiable these attentions are, and what a flavour they give to the most homely dish in life.


Who was the blundering idiot who said that "fine words butter no parsnips"?


Half the parsnips of society are served and rendered palatable with no other sauce.


As the immortal Alexis Soyer can make more delicious soup for a half-penny than an ignorant cook can concoct with pounds of vegetables and meat, so a skilful artist will make a few simple and pleasing phrases go farther than ever so much substantial benefit-stock in the hands of a mere bungler.


Nay, we know that substantial benefits often sicken some stomachs; whereas, most will digest any amount of fine words, and be always eager for more of the same food.


Mrs. Bute had told Briggs and Firkin so often of the depth of her affection for them; and what she would do, if she had Miss Crawley's fortune, for friends so excellent and attached, that the ladies in question had the deepest regard for her; and felt as much gratitude and confidence as if Mrs. Bute had loaded them with the most expensive favours.

Mrs. Bute had told Briggs and Firkin so often of her affection for them, and of what she would do for them, if she had Miss Crawley's fortune, that the two ladies had the deepest regard for her; and felt as grateful as if Mrs. Bute had loaded them with expensive favours.


Rawdon Crawley, on the other hand, like a selfish heavy dragoon as he was, never took the least trouble to conciliate his aunt's aides-de-camp, showed his contempt for the pair with entire frankness--made Firkin pull off his boots on one occasion--sent her out in the rain on ignominious messages--and if he gave her a guinea, flung it to her as if it were a box on the ear.

Rawdon Crawley, on the other hand, like the selfish heavy dragoon he was, never took the least trouble to conciliate his aunt's companions.


As his aunt, too, made a butt of Briggs, the Captain followed the example, and levelled his jokes at her--jokes about as delicate as a kick from his charger.

As his aunt made a butt of Briggs, the Captain followed her example, and levelled his jokes at her.


Whereas, Mrs. Bute consulted her in matters of taste or difficulty, admired her poetry, and by a thousand acts of kindness and politeness, showed her appreciation of Briggs; and if she made Firkin a twopenny-halfpenny present, accompanied it with so many compliments, that the twopence-half-penny was transmuted into gold in the heart of the grateful waiting-maid, who, besides, was looking forwards quite contentedly to some prodigious benefit which must happen to her on the day when Mrs. Bute came into her fortune.

Whereas Mrs. Bute consulted her in matters of taste, admired her poetry, and showed her appreciation of Briggs in a thousand ways; and if she made Firkin a twopenny present, accompanied it with so many compliments that the twopence was changed to gold in the maid's grateful heart.


The different conduct of these two people is pointed out respectfully to the attention of persons commencing the world.


Praise everybody, I say to such: never be squeamish, but speak out your compliment both point-blank in a man's face, and behind his back, when you know there is a reasonable chance of his hearing it again.

Praise everybody, I say: never be squeamish, but speak out your compliment both to a man's face, and behind his back, when you know he may get to hear of it.


Never lose a chance of saying a kind word.


As Collingwood never saw a vacant place in his estate but he took an acorn out of his pocket and popped it in; so deal with your compliments through life.


An acorn costs nothing; but it may sprout into a prodigious bit of timber.

orns: an acorn costs nothing, but it may sprout into a prodigious bit of timber.


In a word, during Rawdon Crawley's prosperity, he was only obeyed with sulky acquiescence; when his disgrace came, there was nobody to help or pity him.

During Rawdon Crawley's prosperity, he was only obeyed sulkily; when his disgrace came, nobody pitied him.


Whereas, when Mrs. Bute took the command at Miss Crawley's house, the garrison there were charmed to act under such a leader, expecting all sorts of promotion from her promises, her generosity, and her kind words.

But the garrison at Miss Crawley's house were charmed to act under such a leader as Mrs Bute, expecting all sorts of promotion from her promises and her kind words.


That he would consider himself beaten, after one defeat, and make no attempt to regain the position he had lost, Mrs. Bute Crawley never allowed herself to suppose.

Mrs. Bute Crawley never allowed herself to suppose that Rawdon would be beaten by one defeat.


She knew Rebecca to be too clever and spirited and desperate a woman to submit without a struggle; and felt that she must prepare for that combat, and be incessantly watchful against assault; or mine, or surprise.

She knew Rebecca to be too clever and spirited a woman to submit without a struggle; and felt that she must prepare for that combat, and be incessantly watchful.


In the first place, though she held the town, was she sure of the principal inhabitant?


Would Miss Crawley herself hold out; and had she not a secret longing to welcome back the ousted adversary?

would Miss Crawley herself hold out? Had she not a secret longing to welcome back


The old lady liked Rawdon, and Rebecca, who amused her.

Rawdon and Rebecca? The old lady liked them; they amused her.


Mrs. Bute could not disguise from herself the fact that none of her party could so contribute to the pleasures of the town-bred lady.

Mrs. Bute could not disguise from herself the fact that none of her own family could contribute much to Miss Crawley's pleasures.


"My girls' singing, after that little odious governess's, I know is unbearable," the candid Rector's wife owned to herself.

"My girls' singing, after that odious governess's, is unbearable," she admitted to herself.


"She always used to go to sleep when Martha and Louisa played their duets.


Jim's stiff college manners and poor dear Bute's talk about his dogs and horses always annoyed her.

"Jim's college manners and poor dear Bute's talk about his dogs and horses always annoyed her.


If I took her to the Rectory, she would grow angry with us all, and fly, I know she would; and might fall into that horrid Rawdon's clutches again, and be the victim of that little viper of a Sharp.

If I took her to the Rectory, she would grow angry with us all, and fly; and might fall into the clutches of that horrid Rawdon and that little viper of a Sharp.


Meanwhile, it is clear to me that she is exceedingly unwell, and cannot move for some weeks, at any rate; during which we must think of some plan to protect her from the arts of those unprincipled people."

Meanwhile, she is exceedingly ill, and cannot move for weeks; during which we must protect her from those unprincipled people."


In the very best of moments, if anybody told Miss Crawley that she was, or looked ill, the trembling old lady sent off for her doctor; and I daresay she was very unwell after the sudden family event, which might serve to shake stronger nerves than hers.

Miss Crawley was always ready to send for her doctor, and I daresay she was very unwell after the sudden family event.


At least, Mrs. Bute thought it was her duty to inform the physician, and the apothecary, and the dame-de-compagnie, and the domestics, that Miss Crawley was in a most critical state, and that they were to act accordingly.

At least, Mrs. Bute thought it was her duty to inform the physician, and the apothecary, and the household, that Miss Crawley was in a most critical state.


She had the street laid knee-deep with straw; and the knocker put by with Mr. Bowls's plate.

She had the street laid knee-deep with straw to muffle sounds;


She insisted that the Doctor should call twice a day; and deluged her patient with draughts every two hours.

she insisted that the Doctor should call twice a day; and deluged her patient with medicinal draughts every two hours.


When anybody entered the room, she uttered a shshshsh so sibilant and ominous, that it frightened the poor old lady in her bed, from which she could not look without seeing Mrs. Bute's beady eyes eagerly fixed on her, as the latter sate steadfast in the arm-chair by the bedside.

The poor old lady could not look up from her bed without seeing Mrs. Bute's beady eyes eagerly fixed on her.


They seemed to lighten in the dark (for she kept the curtains closed) as she moved about the room on velvet paws like a cat.

They seemed to shine in the dark as she moved about the room on velvet paws like a cat.


There Miss Crawley lay for days--ever so many days--Mr. Bute reading books of devotion to her: for nights, long nights, during which she had to hear the watchman sing, the night-light sputter; visited at midnight, the last thing, by the stealthy apothecary; and then left to look at Mrs. Bute's twinkling eyes, or the flicks of yellow that the rushlight threw on the dreary darkened ceiling.

There Miss Crawley lay for many days - Mrs. Bute reading books of devotion to her: for long nights, during which she had to hear the watchman sing.


Hygeia herself would have fallen sick under such a regimen; and how much more this poor old nervous victim?


It has been said that when she was in health and good spirits, this venerable inhabitant of Vanity Fair had as free notions about religion and morals as Monsieur de Voltaire himself could desire, but when illness overtook her, it was aggravated by the most dreadful terrors of death, and an utter cowardice took possession of the prostrate old sinner.

When she was in health and good spirits, this old inhabitant of Vanity Fair had free notions about religion and morals, but when illness overtook her, it brought the most dreadful terrors of death.


Sick-bed homilies and pious reflections are, to be sure, out of place in mere story-books, and we are not going (after the fashion of some novelists of the present day) to cajole the public into a sermon, when it is only a comedy that the reader pays his money to witness.


But, without preaching, the truth may surely be borne in mind, that the bustle, and triumph, and laughter, and gaiety which Vanity Fair exhibits in public, do not always pursue the performer into private life, and that the most dreary depression of spirits and dismal repentances sometimes overcome him.

For the bustle, and triumph, and laughter which Vanity Fair exhibits in public, do not always pursue the performer into private life.


Recollection of the best ordained banquets will scarcely cheer sick epicures.


Reminiscences of the most becoming dresses and brilliant ball triumphs will go very little way to console faded beauties.


Perhaps statesmen, at a particular period of existence, are not much gratified at thinking over the most triumphant divisions; and the success or the pleasure of yesterday becomes of very small account when a certain (albeit uncertain) morrow is in view, about which all of us must some day or other be speculating.


Are there not moments when one grows sick of grinning and tumbling, and the jingling of cap and bells?


This, dear friends and companions, is my amiable object--to walk with you through the Fair, to examine the shops and the shows there; and that we should all come home after the flare, and the noise, and the gaiety, and be perfectly miserable in private.

This, dear friends, is my amiable object - to walk with you through the Fair, so that we should all come home after the noise and gaiety, and be perfectly miserable in private.


"If that poor man of mine had a head on his shoulders," Mrs. Bute Crawley thought to herself, "how useful he might be, under present circumstances, to this unhappy old lady!

"If that poor man of mine had a head on his shoulders," Mrs. Bute Crawley thought, "how useful he might be!


He might make her repent of her shocking free-thinking ways; he might urge her to do her duty, and cast off that odious reprobate who has disgraced himself and his family; and he might induce her to do justice to my dear girls and the two boys, who require and deserve, I am sure, every assistance which their relatives can give them."

He might make this old lady repent of her shocking ways; he might urge her to do her duty, and cast off her odious nephew, and do justice to my dear children, who deserve every assistance which their relatives can give them."


And, as the hatred of vice is always a progress towards virtue, Mrs. Bute Crawley endeavoured to instil her sister-in-law a proper abhorrence for all Rawdon Crawley's manifold sins: of which his uncle's wife brought forward such a catalogue as indeed would have served to condemn a whole regiment of young officers.

Mrs. Bute Crawley tried to instil in her sister-in-law a proper abhorrence for all Rawdon Crawley's many sins: producing a list of them long enough for a whole regiment of young officers.


If a man has committed wrong in life, I don't know any moralist more anxious to point his errors out to the world than his own relations; so Mrs. Bute showed a perfect family interest and knowledge of Rawdon's history.

She showed a perfect knowledge of Rawdon's history.


She had all the particulars of that ugly quarrel with Captain Marker, in which Rawdon, wrong from the beginning, ended in shooting the Captain.

She had all the details of that ugly quarrel with Captain Marker, when Rawdon shot him.


She knew how the unhappy Lord Dovedale, whose mamma had taken a house at Oxford, so that he might be educated there, and who had never touched a card in his life till he came to London, was perverted by Rawdon at the Cocoa-Tree, made helplessly tipsy by this abominable seducer and perverter of youth, and fleeced of four thousand pounds.

She knew how young Lord Dovedale, who had never touched a card in his life, was perverted by Rawdon at the Cocoa-Tree, made helplessly tipsy, and fleeced of four thousand pounds.


She described with the most vivid minuteness the agonies of the country families whom he had ruined--the sons whom he had plunged into dishonour and poverty--the daughters whom he had inveigled into perdition.

She described the agonies of the families whom he had ruined - the sons whom he had plunged into poverty - the daughters whom he had lured into perdition.


She knew the poor tradesmen who were bankrupt by his extravagance--the mean shifts and rogueries with which he had ministered to it--the astounding falsehoods by which he had imposed upon the most generous of aunts, and the ingratitude and ridicule by which he had repaid her sacrifices.

She knew the astounding falsehoods by which he had imposed upon his generous aunt, and the ridicule with which he had repaid her.


She imparted these stories gradually to Miss Crawley; gave her the whole benefit of them; felt it to be her bounden duty as a Christian woman and mother of a family to do so; had not the smallest remorse or compunction for the victim whom her tongue was immolating; nay, very likely thought her act was quite meritorious, and plumed herself upon her resolute manner of performing it.

She told these stories to Miss Crawley, feeling it to be her Christian duty. She had not the smallest remorse for her victim.


Yes, if a man's character is to be abused, say what you will, there's nobody like a relation to do the business.

If a man's character is to be abused, there's nobody like a relation to do the business.


And one is bound to own, regarding this unfortunate wretch of a Rawdon Crawley, that the mere truth was enough to condemn him, and that all inventions of scandal were quite superfluous pains on his friends' parts.

And one is bound to own that the mere truth about the unfortunate Rawdon was enough to condemn him, without any invention of scandal.


Rebecca, too, being now a relative, came in for the fullest share of Mrs. Bute's kind inquiries.

Rebecca, too, came in for the fullest share of Mrs. Bute's kind inquiries.


This indefatigable pursuer of truth (having given strict orders that the door was to be denied to all emissaries or letters from Rawdon), took Miss Crawley's carriage, and drove to her old friend Miss Pinkerton, at Minerva House, Chiswick Mall, to whom she announced the dreadful intelligence of Captain Rawdon's seduction by Miss Sharp, and from whom she got sundry strange particulars regarding the ex-governess's birth and early history.

Mrs. Bute visited her old friend Miss Pinkerton, at Chiswick Mall, from whom she got various strange facts about Rebecca's early history.


The friend of the Lexicographer had plenty of information to give.


Miss Jemima was made to fetch the drawing-master's receipts and letters.

Miss Jemima was made to fetch the drawing-master's receipts and begging-letters.


This one was from a spunging-house: that entreated an advance: another was full of gratitude for Rebecca's reception by the ladies of Chiswick: and the last document from the unlucky artist's pen was that in which, from his dying bed, he recommended his orphan child to Miss Pinkerton's protection.


There were juvenile letters and petitions from Rebecca, too, in the collection, imploring aid for her father or declaring her own gratitude.

There were juvenile letters from Rebecca, too, imploring aid for her father or declaring her gratitude.


Perhaps in Vanity Fair there are no better satires than letters.


Take a bundle of your dear friend's of ten years back--your dear friend whom you hate now.


how you clung to each other till you quarrelled about the twenty-pound legacy!


Get down the round-hand scrawls of your son who has half broken your heart with selfish undutifulness since; or a parcel of your own, breathing endless ardour and love eternal, which were sent back by your mistress when she married the Nabob--your mistress for whom you now care no more than for Queen Elizabeth.


Vows, love, promises, confidences, gratitude, how queerly they read after a while!

Vows, promises, gratitude, how queerly they read after a while!


There ought to be a law in Vanity Fair ordering the destruction of every written document (except receipted tradesmen's bills) after a certain brief and proper interval.

There ought to be a law in Vanity Fair ordering the destruction of every written document after a certain interval - and


Those quacks and misanthropes who advertise indelible Japan ink should be made to perish along with their wicked discoveries.


The best ink for Vanity Fair use would be one that faded utterly in a couple of days, and left the paper clean and blank, so that you might write on it to somebody else.

The best ink for Vanity Fair use would be one that faded utterly in a couple of days, and left the paper blank.


From Miss Pinkerton's the indefatigable Mrs. Bute followed the track of Sharp and his daughter back to the lodgings in Greek Street, which the defunct painter had occupied; and where portraits of the landlady in white satin, and of the husband in brass buttons, done by Sharp in lieu of a quarter's rent, still decorated the parlour walls.

From Miss Pinkerton's, the indefatigable Mrs. Bute followed the track of Sharp and his daughter back to their former lodgings in Greek Street.