Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 327: what you’re looking at

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78 When, then, Becky told him that the great crisis was near, and the time for ac- tion had arrived, Rawdon expressed himself as ready to act under her orders, as he would be to charge with his troop at the command of his colonel. ‘There was no need for him to put his letter into the third volume of Porteus. Rebecca easily found a means to get rid of Briggs, her companion, and met her faithful friend in ‘the usual place” on the next day. She had thought over matters at night, and communicated to Rawdon the result of her determinations. He agreed, of course, to every thing; was quite sure that it was all right; that what she proposed was best; that Miss Crawley would infallibly relent, or ‘*come round,” as he said, after a time. Had Rebecca’s reso- lutions been entirely different, he would have followed them as implicitly. ‘ You have head enough for both of us, Beck,” said he. ‘* You’re sure to get us out of the scrape. I never saw your equal, and I’ve met with some clippers in my time too.” And with this simple confession of faith, the Jove-stricken dragoon left her to execute his part of the project which she had formed for the pair. It consisted simply in the hiring of quiet Jodgings at Brompton, or in the neighborhood of the barracks, for Captain and Mrs. Craw- ley. For Rebecca had determined, and very prudently, we think, to fly. Rawdon was only too happy at her resolve; he had been entreating her to take this measure any time for weeks past. He pranced off to engage the lodgings with all the impetuosity of love. He agreed to pay two guineas a week so readily, that the landlady regretted she had asked him so little. He ordered in a piano, and half a nursery house full of flowers, and a heap of good things. As for shawls, kid gloves, silk stockings, gold French watches, bracelets and perfumery, he sent them in with the profusion of blind love and unbounded credit. And having relieved his mind by this outpouring of generosity, he went and dined nervously at the club, wait- ing until the great moment of his life should come. The occurrences of the previous day ; the admirable conduct of Rebecca in refusing an offer so advantageous to her, the secret un- happiness preying upon her, the sweetness and silence with which she bore her afflic- tion, made Miss Crawley much more tender than usual. An event of this nature, a mar- riage, or a refusal, or a proposal, thrills through a whole houseful of women, and sets all their hysterical sympathies at work. As an observer of human nature, I regularly frequent St. George’s, Hanover-square, dur- ing the genteel marriage season; and though 1 have never seen the bridegroom’s male friends give way to tears, or the beadles and VANITY FAIR. officiating clergy any way affected, yet it is not at all uncommon to see women who are not in the least concerned in the operations going on—old ladies who are long past mar- rying, stout middle-aged females with plenty of sons and daughters, let alone pretty young creatures in pink bonnets, who are on their promotion, and may naturally take an inter- est in the ceremony—I say it is quite common to see the women present piping, sobbing, sniffling, hiding their little faces in their little useless pocket-handkerchiefs, and heaving, old and young, with emotion. When my friend, the fashionable John Pimlico, married the lovely Lady Belgravia Green Parker, the emotion was so general, that even the little snuffy old pew-opener who let me into the seat, was In tears. And wherefore? I in- quired of my own soul: she was not going to be married. Miss Crawley and Briggs, in a word, after the affair of Sir Pitt, indulged in the utmost luxury of sentiment, and Rebecca became an object of the most tender interest to them. In her absence Miss Crawley solaced her- self with the inost sentimental of the novels inher library. Little Sharp, with her secret griefs, was the heroine of the day. That night Rebecca sang more sweetly and talked more pleasantly than she had ever been heard to do in Park Lane. She twined herself round the heart of Miss Crawley. She spoke lightly and laughingly of Sir Pitt’s proposal, ridiculed it as the foolish fancy of an old man; and her eyes filled with tears, and Briggs’s heart with un utterable pangs of defeat, as she said she desired no other lot than to remain forever with her dear benefactress. ‘* My dear lit- tle creature,’ the old lady said, “I don’t intend to let you stir for years, that you may depend upon. As for going back to that odious brother of mine after what has passed, itis out of the question. Here you stay with me and Briggs. Briggs wants to go to see her relations very often. Briggs, you may go when you like. you must stay and take care of the old woman.” If Rawdon Crawley had been then and there present, instead of being at the club nervously drinking claret, the pan might have gone down on their knees before the old spinster, avowed all, and been forgiven in a twinkling. But that good chance was denied to the young couple, doubtless in order that this story might be written, in which numbers of their wonderful adven- tures are narrated—adventures which could never have occurred to them if they had been housed and sheltered under the com- fortable uninteresting forgiveness of Miss Crawley. Under Mrs. Firkin’s orders, in the Park Lane establishment, was a young woman But as for you, my dear, — COMMIECDOO® - S (Cc)