Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 325: what you’re looking at

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76 VANITY FAIR. You said something about an affair with| ‘* You know,” she said, ‘* Mrs. Briefless is him. I'll ask him here, my dear. And you shall have him: indeed you shall.” » ‘Don’t ask me now,” Rebecca said. ‘¢You shall know all soon. Indeed you shall. Dear, kind Miss Crawley — dear friend, may I say so?” “That you may, my child,” the o!d lady replied, kissing her. | ‘T can’t tell you now,” sobbed out Re- becca, “‘[ am very miserable. But O! love me always—promise you will love me al- ways.” And in the midst of wrutual tears— for the emotions of the younger woman had awakened the sympathies of the elder—this promise was solemnly given by Miss Craw- ley, who left her little protégée, blessing and admiring her as a dear, artless, tender- hearted, affectionate, incomprehensible crea- ture. And now she was left alone to think over the sudden and wonderful events of the day, and of what had been and what might have been. What think you were the private feelings of Miss, no (begging her pardon), of Mrs. Rebecca? If, a few pages back, the present writer claimed the privilege of peeping into Miss Amelia Sedley’s bed- room, and understanding with the omnis- cience of the novelist all the gentle pains and passions which were tossing upon that inno- cent pillow, why should he not declare him- self to be Rebecca’s confidante too, master of her secrets, and seal-keeper of that young Woman’s conscience ? Well then, in the first place, Rebecca gave way to some very sincere and touch- ing regrets that a piece of marvelous good fortune should have been so near her, and she actually obliged to decline it. In this natural emotion every properly regulated mind will certainly share. What good mother is there that would not commiserate a penniless spinster, who might have been my lady, and have shared tour thousand a year! What well-bred young person is there in all Vanity Fair, who will not feel for a hard-working, ingenious, meritorious girl, who gets such an honorable, advantageous, provoking offer, just at the very moment when it is out of her power to acceptit? I am sure our friend Becky’s disappointment deserves and will command every sympathy. | remember one night being in the Fair myself, at an evening party. I observed old Miss ‘l'oady there also present, single out for her special attentions and flattery little Mrs. Briefless, the barrister’s wife, who is of a good family certainly, but, as we all know, is as poor as poor can be. What, I asked in my own mind, can cause this obsequiousness on the part of Miss ‘T'oady ; has Briefless got a county court, or has his wife hada fortune left her? Miss ‘loady explained presently, with that sim- plicity which distinguishes all her conduct. granddaughter of Sir John Redhand, who is so ill at Cheltenham that he can’t last six months. Mrs. Briefless’s papa, succeeds; so you see she will be a baronet’s daughter.” And Toady asked Briefless and his wife to dinner the very next week. If the mere chance of becoming a baronet’s daughter can procure a lady such homage in the world, surely we may respect the ag- onies of a young woman who has lost the opportunity of becoming a baronet’s wife. ‘‘ Who would have dreamed of Lady Craw- ley dying so soon? She was one of those sickly women that might have lasted these ten years’’—Rebecca thought to herself, in all the woes of repentance—‘ and I might have been my lady! I might have led that old man whither [ would. I might have thanked Mrs. Bute for her patronage, and Mr. Pitt for his insufferable condescension. Y would have had the town-house newly furnished*and decorated. I would have had the handsomest carriage in London, and a box at the Opera; and I would have been presented next season. All this might have been; but now—now is all doubt and mys- tery.”’ But Rebecca was a young lady of too much resolution and energy of character to permit herself much useless and unseemly sorrow for the irrevocable past; so, having devoted only the proper portion of regret to it, she wisely turned her whole attention toward the future, which was now vastly more important to her. And she surveyed her position, and its hopes, doubts, and chances. In the first place, she was married ; that was a great fact. Sir Pitt knewit. She was not so much surprised into the avowal, as induced to make it by a sudden calcula- — tion. It must have come some day; and why not now as at a later period? He who would have married her himself must at least be silent with regard to her marriage. But how Miss Crawley would bear the news—was the great question. Misgivings Rebecca had; but she remembered all Miss Crawley had said; the old lady’s avowed contempt for birth; her daring liberal opin- ions; her general romantic propensities ; her almost doting attachment to her nephew, and her repeatedly-expressed fondness for Rebec- caherself. ‘She is sofond of him,’ Rebecca thought, that she will forgive him any thing: she is so used to me that I don’t think she could be comfortable without me: when the éclaircissement comes there will be a scene, and hysterics, and a great quarrel, and then a great reconciliation.” At all events, what use was there in delaying? the die was thrown. and now or to-morrow the issue: must be the same. And so, resolved that Miss Crawley should have the news, the young person debated in her mind as to the CONIC OOO S CO mn