Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 322: what you’re looking at

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A NOVEL WITHOUT A HERO. 73 as he was going away after taking leave, and had a parley together. On the morrow, as Rebecca was gazing from the window, she startled Miss Crawley, who was placidly occupied with a French novel, by crying out in an alarmed tone, “ Here’s Sir Pitt, ma'am !”’ and the baron- et’s knock followed this announcement. ““ My dear, I can’t see him. I won’t see him. ‘Tell Bowls not at home, or go down stairs and say I’m too ill to receive any one. My nerves really won’t bear my brother at this moment ;’’ cried out Miss Crawley, and resumed the novel. “‘She’s too ill to see you, sir,” Rebecca said, tripping down to Sir Pitt, who was preparing to ascend. ‘¢So much the better,” Sir Pitt answered. “JT want to see you, Miss Becky. Come along a me into the parlor,” and they enter- ed that apartment together. ‘7 wawnt you back at Queen’s Crawley, Miss,” the baronet said, fixing his eyes upon her, and taking off his black gloves and his hat with its great crape hat-band. His eyes had such a strange look, and fixed upon her so steadfastly, that Rebecca Sharp began al- most to tremble. - T hope to come soon,” she said in a low voice, ‘*as soon as Miss Crawley is better— and return to—to the dear children.” ‘* You’ve said so these three months, Becky,” replied Sir Pitt, ‘* and still you go hanging on to my sister, who'll fling you off Jike an old shoe, when she’s wore you out. I tell you [ want you. I’m going back to the Vuneral. Will you come back? Yes or no.”’ “| daren’t—I don’t think—it would be right—to be alone—with you, sir,’ Becky said, seemingly in great agitation. “T say agin, | want you,” Sir Pitt said, thumping the table. ‘I can’t git on with- out you. I didn’t see what it was till you went away. ‘The house all goes wrong. It’s not the same place. All my accounts has got muddled agin. You must come back. Do come back. Dear Becky, do come.” ‘¢ Come—as what, sir?’ Rebecca gasped out. ‘Come as Lady Crawley, if you like,” the baronet said, grasping his crape hat. «There! will that zatusfy you? Come back and be my wife. Your vit vort. Birth be hanged. You're as good a lady as ever I see. You've got more brains in your little vinger than any baronet’s wife in the coun- ty. Willyou come? Yes or no?” “Oh, Sir Pitt!’ Rebecca said, very much moved. “ Say yes, Becky,” Sir Pitt continued. ‘““T’m an old man, but a good’n. I’m good for twenty years. I'll make you happy, zee if [ don’t. You shall do what you like ; spend what you like; and ’av it all yeur own . way. I'll make you a zettlement. I'll do every thing reglar. Look year!” and the old man fell down on his knees and leered at her like a satyr. Rebecca started back a picture of conster- nation. In the course of this history we have never seen her lose her presence of mind; but she did now, and wept some of the most genuine tears that ever fell from her eyes. } “Oh, Sir Pitt!” she said. I—V’in married already.” CHAPTER XV. IN WHICH REBECCA’S HUSBAND APPEARS FOR A SHORT TIME. Every reader of a sentimental turn (and we desire no other) must have been pleased with the tableau with which the last act of our little drama concluded ; for what can be prettier than an image of Love on his knees before Beauty ? But when Love heard that awful confes- sion from Beauty that she was married al- ready, he bounced up from his attitude of humility on the carpet, uttering exclama- tions which caused poor little Beauty to be more frightened than she was when she made her avowal. ‘* Married! you're jok- ing,” the baronet cried, after the explosion of rage and wonder. ‘* You’re making vun of me, Becky. Who'd ever go to marry you without a shilling to your vortune ?” ‘‘ Married! married !’’ Rebecca said, in an agony of tears—her voice choking with emo- tion, her handkerchief up to her ready eyes, fainting against the mantel-piece—a figure of woe fit to melt the most obdurate heart. ‘QO Sir Pitt, dear Sir Pitt, do not think me ungrateful for all your goodness to me. It is only your generosity that has extorted my secret.” “Generosity be hanged!” Sir Pit roared out. ‘* Who is it tu, then, you’re married? Where was it!” “Tet me come buck with you to the country, sir! Let me watch over you as faithfully as ever! Don’t, don’t separate me from dear Queen's Crawley !” “The feller has Jeft you, has he!” the baronet said, beginning, as he fancied, to comprehend. ‘ Well, Becky—come back, if you like. You can’t eat your cake and have it. Any ways, | made you avair offer. Coom back as governess—you shall have it all your own way.” She held out one hand. She cried fit to break her heart; her ring- lets fell over her face, and over the marble mantel-piece where she laid it. ‘‘So the rascal ran off, eh ?” Sir Pitt said, with a hideous attempt’ at consolation. +¢ Never mind, Becky, J’l/ take care of ’ee.” ‘© sir! it would be the pride of my life CoOnniclooolkks (SO)