Vanity Fair
Rebecca respecting his aunt's health. This improved so rapidly, that
poor Briggs was allowed to see her patroness; and persons with tender
hearts may imagine the smothered emotions of that sentimental female,
and the affecting nature of the interview.
Miss Crawley liked to have Briggs in a good deal soon. Rebecca used to
mimic her to her face with the most admirable gravity, thereby
rendering the imitation doubly piquant to her worthy patroness.
The causes which had led to the deplorable illness of Miss Crawley, and
her departure from her brother's house in the country, were of such an
unromantic nature that they are hardly fit to be explained in this
genteel and sentimental novel. For how is it possible to hint of a
delicate female, living in good society, that she ate and drank too
much, and that a hot supper of lobsters profusely enjoyed at the
Rectory was the reason of an indisposition which Miss Crawley herself
persisted was solely attributable to the dampness of the weather? The
attack was so sharp that Matilda--as his Reverence expressed it--was
very nearly "off the hooks"; all the family were in a fever of
expectation regarding the will, and Rawdon Crawley was making sure of
at least forty thousand pounds before the commencement of the London
season. Mr. Crawley sent over a choice parcel of tracts, to prepare
her for the change from Vanity Fair and Park Lane for another world;
but a good doctor from Southampton being called in in time, vanquished
the lobster which was so nearly fatal to her, and gave her sufficient
strength to enable her to return to London. The Baronet did not
disguise his exceeding mortification at the turn which affairs took.
While everybody was attending on Miss Crawley, and messengers every
hour from the Rectory were carrying news of her health to the
affectionate folks there, there was a lady in another part of the
house, being exceedingly ill, of whom no one took any notice at all;
and this was the lady of Crawley herself. The good doctor shook his
head after seeing her; to which visit Sir Pitt consented, as it could
be paid without a fee; and she was left fading away in her lonely
chamber, with no more heed paid to her than to a weed in the park.
The young ladies, too, lost much of the inestimable benefit of their
governess's instruction, So affectionate a nurse was Miss Sharp, that
Miss Crawley would take her medicines from no other hand. Firkin had
been deposed long before her mistress's departure from the country.
That faithful attendant found a gloomy consolation on returning to
London, in seeing Miss Briggs suffer the same pangs of jealousy and
undergo the same faithless treatment to which she herself had been
subject.
Captain Rawdon got an extension of leave on his aunt's illness, and
remained dutifully at home. He was always in her antechamber. (She
lay sick in the state bedroom, into which you entered by the little
blue saloon.) His father was always meeting him there; or if he came
down the corridor ever so quietly, his father's door was sure to open,
and the hyena face of the old gentleman to glare out. What was it set
one to watch the other so? A generous rivalry, no doubt, as to which
should be most attentive to the dear sufferer in the state bedroom.
Rebecca used to come out and comfort both of them; or one or the other
of them rather. Both of these worthy gentlemen were most anxious to
have news of the invalid from her little confidential messenger.
At dinner--to which meal she descended for half an hour--she kept the
peace between them: after which she disappeared for the night; when
Rawdon would ride over to the depot of the 150th at Mudbury, leaving
his papa to the society of Mr. Horrocks and his rum and water. She
passed as weary a fortnight as ever mortal spent in Miss Crawley's
sick-room; but her little nerves seemed to be of iron, as she was quite
unshaken by the duty and the tedium of the sick-chamber.
She never told until long afterwards how painful that duty was; how
peevish a patient was the jovial old lady; how angry; how sleepless; in
what horrors of death; during what long nights she lay moaning, and in
almost delirious agonies respecting that future world which she quite
ignored when she was in good health.--Picture to yourself, oh fair
young reader, a worldly, selfish, graceless, thankless, religionless
old woman, writhing in pain and fear, and without her wig. Picture her
to yourself, and ere you be old, learn to love and pray!
Sharp watched this graceless bedside with indomitable patience. Nothing
escaped her; and, like a prudent steward, she found a use for
everything. She told many a good story about Miss Crawley's illness in
after days--stories which made the lady blush through her artificial
carnations. During the illness she was never out of temper; always
alert; she slept light, having a perfectly clear conscience; and could
take that refreshment at almost any minute's warning. And so you saw
very few traces of fatigue in her appearance. Her face might be a
trifle paler, and the circles round her eyes a little blacker than
usual; but whenever she came out from the sick-room she was always
smiling, fresh, and neat, and looked as trim in her little
dressing-gown and cap, as in her smartest evening suit.
The Captain thought so, and raved about her in uncouth convulsions. The
barbed shaft of love had penetrated his dull hide. Six
weeks--appropinquity--opportunity--had victimised him completely. He
made a confidante of his aunt at the Rectory, of all persons in the
world. She rallied him about it; she had perceived his folly; she
warned him; she finished by owning that little Sharp was the most clever,
droll, odd, good-natured, simple, kindly creature in England. Rawdon
must not trifle with her affections, though--dear Miss Crawley would
never pardon him for that; for she, too, was quite overcome by the little
governess, and loved Sharp like a daughter. Rawdon must go away--go
back to his regiment and naughty London, and not play with a poor
artless girl's feelings.
Many and many a time this good-natured lady, compassionating the
forlorn life-guardsman's condition, gave him an opportunity of seeing
Miss Sharp at the Rectory, and of walking home with her, as we have
seen. When men of a certain sort, ladies, are in love, though they see
the hook and the string, and the whole apparatus with which they are to
be taken, they gorge the bait nevertheless--they must come to it--they
must swallow it--and are presently struck and landed gasping. Rawdon
saw there was a manifest intention on Mrs. Bute's part to captivate him
with Rebecca. He was not very wise; but he was a man about town, and
had seen several seasons. A light dawned upon his dusky soul, as he
thought, through a speech of Mrs. Bute's.
"Mark my words, Rawdon," she said. "You will have Miss Sharp one day
for your relation."
"What relation--my cousin, hey, Mrs. Bute? James sweet on her, hey?"
inquired the waggish officer.
"More than that," Mrs. Bute said, with a flash from her black eyes.
"Not Pitt? He sha'n't have her. The sneak a'n't worthy of her. He's
booked to Lady Jane Sheepshanks."
"You men perceive nothing. You silly, blind creature--if anything
happens to Lady Crawley, Miss Sharp will be your mother-in-law; and
that's what will happen."
Rawdon Crawley, Esquire, gave vent to a prodigious whistle, in token of
astonishment at this announcement. He couldn't deny it. His father's
evident liking for Miss Sharp had not escaped him. He knew the old
gentleman's character well; and a more unscrupulous old--whyou--he did
not conclude the sentence, but walked home, curling his mustachios, and
convinced he had found a clue to Mrs. Bute's mystery.
"By Jove, it's too bad," thought Rawdon, "too bad, by Jove! I do
believe the woman wants the poor girl to be ruined, in order that she
shouldn't come into the family as Lady Crawley."
When he saw Rebecca alone, he rallied her about his father's attachment
in his graceful way. She flung up her head scornfully, looked him full
in the face, and said,
"Well, suppose he is fond of me. I know he is, and others too. You
don't think I am afraid of him, Captain Crawley? You don't suppose I
can't defend my own honour," said the little woman, looking as stately
as a queen.
"Oh, ah, why--give you fair warning--look out, you know--that's all,"
said the mustachio-twiddler.
"You hint at something not honourable, then?" said she, flashing out.
"O Gad--really--Miss Rebecca," the heavy dragoon interposed.
"Do you suppose I have no feeling of self-respect, because I am poor
and friendless, and because rich people have none? Do you think,
because I am a governess, I have not as much sense, and feeling, and
good breeding as you gentlefolks in Hampshire? I'm a Montmorency. Do
you suppose a Montmorency is not as good as a Crawley?"
When Miss Sharp was agitated, and alluded to her maternal relatives,
she spoke with ever so slight a foreign accent, which gave a great
charm to her clear ringing voice. "No," she continued, kindling as she
spoke to the Captain; "I can endure poverty, but not shame--neglect,
but not insult; and insult from--from you."
Her feelings gave way, and she burst into tears.
"Hang it, Miss Sharp--Rebecca--by Jove--upon my soul, I wouldn't for a
thousand pounds. Stop, Rebecca!"
She was gone. She drove out with Miss Crawley that day. It was before
the latter's illness. At dinner she was unusually brilliant and
lively; but she would take no notice of the hints, or the nods, or the
clumsy expostulations of the humiliated, infatuated guardsman.
Skirmishes of this sort passed perpetually during the little
campaign--tedious to relate, and similar in result. The Crawley heavy
cavalry was maddened by defeat, and routed every day.
If the Baronet of Queen's Crawley had not had the fear of losing his
sister's legacy before his eyes, he never would have permitted his dear
girls to lose the educational blessings which their invaluable
governess was conferring upon them. The old house at home seemed a
desert without her, so useful and pleasant had Rebecca made herself
there. Sir Pitt's letters were not copied and corrected; his books not
made up; his household business and manifold schemes neglected, now
that his little secretary was away. And it was easy to see how
necessary such an amanuensis was to him, by the tenor and spelling of
the numerous letters which he sent to her, entreating her and
commanding her to return. Almost every day brought a frank from the
Baronet, enclosing the most urgent prayers to Becky for her return, or
conveying pathetic statements to Miss Crawley, regarding the neglected
state of his daughters' education; of which documents Miss Crawley took
very little heed.
Miss Briggs was not formally dismissed, but her place as companion was
a sinecure and a derision; and her company was the fat spaniel in the
drawing-room, or occasionally the discontented Firkin in the
housekeeper's closet. Nor though the old lady would by no means hear
of Rebecca's departure, was the latter regularly installed in office in
Park Lane. Like many wealthy people, it was Miss Crawley's habit to
accept as much service as she could get from her inferiors; and
good-naturedly to take leave of them when she no longer found them
useful. Gratitude among certain rich folks is scarcely natural or to
be thought of. They take needy people's services as their due. Nor
have you, O poor parasite and humble hanger-on, much reason to
complain! Your friendship for Dives is about as sincere as the return
which it usually gets. It is money you love, and not the man; and were
Croesus and his footman to change places you know, you poor rogue, who