Chapter XI: Arcadian Simplicity

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　Besides these honest folks at the Hall (whose simplicityand sweet rural purity surely show the advantage of acountry life over a town one), we must introduce thereader to their relatives and neighbours at the Rectory,Bute Crawley and his wife.

　　The Reverend Bute Crawley was a tall, stately, jolly,shovel-hatted man, far more popular in his county thanthe Baronet his brother. At college he pulled stroke-oarin the Christchurch boat, and had thrashed all the bestbruisers of the "town." He carried his taste for boxingand athletic exercises into private life; there was not afight within twenty miles at which he was not present,nor a race, nor a coursing match, nor a regatta, nor aball, nor an election, nor a visitation dinner, nor indeeda good dinner in the whole county, but he found meansto attend it. You might see his bay mare and gig-lampsa score of miles away from his Rectory House, wheneverthere was any dinner-party at Fuddleston, or at Roxby,or at Wapshot Hall, or at the great lords of the county,with all of whom he was intimate. He had a fine voice;sang "A southerly wind and a cloudy sky"; and gavethe "whoop" in chorus with general applause. He rodeto hounds in a pepper-and-salt frock, and was one of thebest fishermen in the county.

　　Mrs. Crawley, the rector's wife, was a smart little body,who wrote this worthy divine's sermons. Being of adomestic turn, and keeping the house a great deal with herdaughters, she ruled absolutely within the Rectory, wiselygiving her husband full liberty without. He was welcometo come and go, and dine abroad as many days as hisfancy dictated, for Mrs. Crawley was a saving woman andknew the price of port wine. Ever since Mrs. Bute carriedoff the young Rector of Queen's Crawley (she was of agood family, daughter of the late Lieut.-ColonelHector McTavish, and she and her mother played forBute and won him at Harrowgate), she had been a prudentand thrifty wife to him. In spite of her care, however, hewas always in debt. It took him at least ten years to payoff his college bills contracted during his father's lifetime.In the year 179-, when he was just clear of theseincumbrances, he gave the odds of 100 to 1 (in twenties)against Kangaroo, who won the Derby. The Rector wasobliged to take up the money at a ruinous interest, andhad been struggling ever since. His sister helped him witha hundred now and then, but of course his great hope wasin her death--when "hang it" (as he would say), "Matildamust leave me half her money."

　　So that the Baronet and his brother had every reasonwhich two brothers possibly can have for being by theears. Sir Pitt had had the better of Bute in innumerablefamily transactions. Young Pitt not only did not hunt, butset up a meeting house under his uncle's very nose.Rawdon, it was known, was to come in for the bulk of MissCrawley's property. These money transactions--thesespeculations in life and death--these silent battles forreversionary spoil--make brothers very loving towardseach other in Vanity Fair. I, for my part, have known afive-pound note to interpose and knock up a half century'sattachment between two brethren; and can't but admire,as I think what a fine and durable thing Love is amongworldly people.

　　It cannot be supposed that the arrival of such apersonage as Rebecca at Queen's Crawley, and her gradualestablishment in the good graces of all people there, couldbe unremarked by Mrs. Bute Crawley. Mrs. Bute, whoknew how many days the sirloin of beef lasted at the Hall;how much linen was got ready at the great wash; howmany peaches were on the south wall; how many dosesher ladyship took when she was ill--for such points arematters of intense interest to certain persons in thecountry--Mrs. Bute, I say, could not pass over the Hallgoverness without making every inquiry respecting herhistory and character. There was always the best understandingbetween the servants at the Rectory and the Hall.There was always a good glass of ale in the kitchen of theformer place for the Hall people, whose ordinary drinkwas very small--and, indeed, the Rector's lady knewexactly how much malt went to every barrel of Hall beer--ties of relationship existed between the Hall and Rectorydomestics, as between their masters; and through thesechannels each family was perfectly well acquainted withthe doings of the other. That, by the way, may be setdown as a general remark. When you and your brotherare friends, his doings are indifferent to you. When youhave quarrelled, all his outgoings and incomings youknow, as if you were his spy.

　　Very soon then after her arrival, Rebecca began to takea regular place in Mrs. Crawley's bulletin from the Hall.It was to this effect: "The black porker's killed--weighedx stone--salted the sides--pig's pudding and leg of porkfor dinner. Mr. Cramp from Mudbury, over with Sir Pittabout putting John Blackmore in gaol--Mr. Pitt atmeeting (with all the names of the people who attended)--my lady as usual--the young ladies with the governess."

　　Then the report would come--the new governess be arare manager--Sir Pitt be very sweet on her--Mr.Crawley too--He be reading tracts to her--"What anabandoned wretch!" said little, eager, active, black-faced Mrs.Bute Crawley.

　　Finally, the reports were that the governess had "comeround" everybody, wrote Sir Pitt's letters, did his business,managed his accounts--had the upper hand of the wholehouse, my lady, Mr. Crawley, the girls and all--at whichMrs. Crawley declared she was an artful hussy, and hadsome dreadful designs in view. Thus the doings at theHall were the great food for conversation at the Rectory,and Mrs. Bute's bright eyes spied out everything that tookplace in the enemy's camp--everything and a great dealbesides.

　　Mrs. Bute Crawley to Miss Pinkerton,The Mall, Chiswick.

　　Rectory, Queen's Crawley, December--.

　　My Dear Madam,--Although it is so many years sinceI profited by your delightful and invaluable instructions,yet I have ever retained the fondest and most reverentialregard for Miss Pinkerton, and dear Chiswick. I hopeyour health is good. The world and the cause ofeducation cannot afford to lose Miss Pinkerton for many manyyears. When my friend, Lady Fuddleston, mentioned thather dear girls required an instructress (I am too poor toengage a governess for mine, but was I not educated atChiswick?)--"Who," I exclaimed, "can we consult butthe excellent, the incomparable Miss Pinkerton?" In aword, have you, dear madam, any ladies on your list,whose services might be made available to my kindfriend and neighbour? I assure you she will take nogoverness but of your choosing.

　　My dear husband is pleased to say that he likeseverything which comes from Miss Pinkerton'sschool. How I wish I could present him and my belovedgirls to the friend of my youth, and the admired of thegreat lexicographer of our country! If you ever travel intoHampshire, Mr. Crawley begs me to say, he hopes you willadorn our rural rectory with your presence. 'Tis thehumble but happy home of

　　Your affectionateMartha Crawley

　　P.S. Mr. Crawley's brother, the baronet, with whomwe are not, alas! upon those terms of unity in which itbecomes brethren to dwell, has a governess for hislittle girls, who, I am told, had the good fortune to beeducated at Chiswick. I hear various reports of her;and as I have the tenderest interest in my dearest littlenieces, whom I wish, in spite of family differences, tosee among my own children--and as I long to beattentive to any pupil of yours--do, my dear MissPinkerton, tell me the history of this young lady, whom,for your sake, I am most anxious to befriend.--M. C.

　　Miss Pinkerton to Mrs. Bute Crawley.

　　Johnson House, Chiswick, Dec. 18--.

　　Dear Madam,--I have the honour to acknowledgeyour polite communication, to which I promptly reply.'Tis most gratifying to one in my most arduous positionto find that my maternal cares have elicited a responsiveaffection; and to recognize in the amiable Mrs. ButeCrawley my excellent pupil of former years, the sprightlyand accomplished Miss Martha MacTavish. I am happyto have under my charge now the daughters of many ofthose who were your contemporaries at my establishment--what pleasure it would give me if your ownbeloved young ladies had need of my instructivesuperintendence!

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

　　Either of these young ladies is perfectly qualified toinstruct in Greek, Latin, and the rudiments of Hebrew;in mathematics and history; in Spanish, French, Italian,and geography; in music, vocal and instrumental; indancing, without the aid of a master; and in theelements of natural sciences. In the use of the globes bothare proficients. In addition to these Miss Tuffin, who isdaughter of the late Reverend Thomas Tuffin (Fellowof Corpus College, Cambridge), can instruct in theSyriac language, and the elements of Constitutional law.But as she is only eighteen years of age, and ofexceedingly pleasing personal appearance, perhaps thisyoung lady may be objectionable in Sir HuddlestonFuddleston's family.

　　Miss Letitia Hawky, on the other hand, is notpersonally well-favoured. She is-twenty-nine; her faceis much pitted with the small-pox. She has a halt in hergait, red hair, and a trifling obliquity of vision. Bothladies are endowed with every moral and religiousvirtue. Their terms, of course, are such as theiraccomplishments merit. With my most grateful respectsto the Reverend Bute Crawley, I have the honour to be,

　　Dear Madam,

　　Your most faithful and obedient servant,Barbara Pinkerton.

　　P.S. The Miss Sharp, whom you mention asgoverness to Sir Pitt Crawley, Bart., M.P., was a pupilof mine, and I have nothing to say in her disfavour.Though her appearance is disagreeable, we cannotcontrol the operations of nature: and though her parentswere disreputable (her father being a painter, severaltimes bankrupt, and her mother, as I have since learned,with horror, a dancer at the Opera); yet her talents areconsiderable, and I cannot regret that I received herout of charity. My dread is, lest the principles of themother--who was represented to me as a FrenchCountess, forced to emigrate in the late revolutionary horrors;but who, as I have since found, was a person of thevery lowest order and morals--should at any time proveto be hereditary in the unhappy young woman whom Itook as an outcast. But her principles have hithertobeen correct (I believe), and I am sure nothing willoccur to injure them in the elegant and refined circleof the eminent Sir Pitt Crawley.

　　Miss Rebecca Sharp to Miss Amelia Sedley.

　　I have not written to my beloved Amelia for thesemany weeks past, for what news was there to tell of thesayings and doings at Humdrum Hall, as I havechristened it; and what do you care whether the turnip cropis good or bad; whether the fat pig weighed thirteenstone or fourteen; and whether the beasts thrive wellupon mangelwurzel? Every day since I last wrote hasbeen like its neighbour. Before breakfast, a walk withSir Pitt and his spud; after breakfast studies (such asthey are) in the schoolroom; after schoolroom, readingand writing about lawyers, leases, coal-mines, canals,with Sir Pitt (whose secretary I am become); afterdinner, Mr. Crawley's discourses on the baronet'sbackgammon; during both of which amusements my ladylooks on with equal placidity. She has become rathermore interesting by being ailing of late, which hasbrought a new visitor to the Hall, in the person of ayoung doctor. Well, my dear, young women need neverdespair. The young doctor gave a certain friend of yoursto understand that, if she chose to be Mrs. Glauber, shewas welcome to ornament the surgery! I told hisimpudence that the gilt pestle and mortar was quiteornament enough; as if I was born, indeed, to be a countrysurgeon's wife! Mr. Glauber went home seriouslyindisposed at his rebuff, took a cooling draught, and is nowquite 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 inhis nature to like any one. Marry, indeed! and with acountry apothecary, after--No, no, one cannot sosoon forget old associations, about which I will talk nomore. Let us return to Humdrum Hall.

　　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 brothersadore. She looks very apoplectic, the dear soul; nowonder her brothers are anxious about her. You should seethem struggling to settle her cushions, or to hand hercoffee! "When I come into the country," she says (forshe 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 thrownopen, and for a month, at least, you would fancy oldSir Walpole was come to life again. We have dinner-parties, and drive out in the coach-and-four; thefootmen put on their newest canary-coloured liveries; wedrink claret and champagne as if we were accustomedto it every day. We have wax candles in the schoolroom,and fires to warm ourselves with. Lady Crawley is madeto put on the brightest pea-green in her wardrobe, andmy pupils leave off their thick shoes and tight oldtartan pelisses, and wear silk stockings and muslin frocks,as fashionable baronets' daughters should. Rose came inyesterday in a sad plight--the Wiltshire sow (anenormous pet of hers) ran her down, and destroyed a mostlovely flowered lilac silk dress by dancing over it--hadthis happened a week ago, Sir Pitt would have swornfrightfully, have boxed the poor wretch's ears, and puther upon bread and water for a month. All he said was,"I'll serve you out, Miss, when your aunt's gone," andlaughed off the accident as quite trivial. Let us hope hiswrath will have passed away before Miss Crawley'sdeparture. 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 herseventy thousand pounds is to be seen in the conductof the two brothers Crawley. I mean the baronet andthe rector, not our brothers--but the former, who hateeach other all the year round, become quite loving atChristmas. I wrote to you last year how the abominablehorse-racing rector was in the habit of preaching clumsysermons at us at church, and how Sir Pitt snored inanswer. When Miss Crawley arrives there is no such thingas quarrelling heard of--the Hall visits the Rectory, andvice versa--the parson and the Baronet talk about thepigs and the poachers, and the county business, in themost affable manner, and without quarrelling in theircups, I believe--indeed Miss Crawley won't hear of theirquarrelling, and vows that she will leave her money tothe Shropshire Crawleys if they offend her. If they wereclever people, those Shropshire Crawleys, they mighthave it all, I think; but the Shropshire Crawley is aclergyman like his Hampshire cousin, and mortally offendedMiss Crawley (who had fled thither in a fit of rageagainst her impracticable brethren) by some strait-lacednotions of morality. He would have prayers in the house,I believe.

　　Our sermon books are shut up when Miss Crawleyarrives, and Mr. Pitt, whom she abominates, finds itconvenient to go to town. On the other hand, the youngdandy--"blood," I believe, is the term--Captain Crawleymakes his appearance, and I suppose you will like toknow what sort of a person he is.

　　Well, he is a very large young dandy. He is six feethigh, and speaks with a great voice; and swears a greatdeal; and orders about the servants, who all adore himnevertheless; for he is very generous of his money, andthe domestics will do anything for him. Last week thekeepers almost killed a bailiff and his man who camedown from London to arrest the Captain, and who werefound lurking about the Park wall--they beat them,ducked them, and were going to shoot them forpoachers, but the baronet interfered.

　　The Captain has a hearty contempt for his father, Ican see, and calls him an old put, an old snob, an oldchaw-bacon, and numberless other pretty names. He hasa dreadful reputation among the ladies. He brings hishunters home with him, lives with the Squires of thecounty, asks whom he pleases to dinner, and Sir Pittdares 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? Imust, it is so pretty. One evening we actually had adance; there was Sir Huddleston Fuddleston and hisfamily, Sir Giles Wapshot and his young ladies, and Idon't know how many more. Well, I heard him say--"By Jove, she's a neat little filly!" meaning your humbleservant; and he did me the honour to dance two country-dances with me. He gets on pretty gaily with the youngSquires, with whom he drinks, bets, rides, and talksabout hunting and shooting; but he says the countrygirls are bores; indeed, I don't think he is far wrong.You should see the contempt with which they look downon poor me! When they dance I sit and play the pianovery demurely; but the other night, coming in ratherflushed from the dining-room, and seeing me employedin this way, he swore out loud that I was the best dancerin the room, and took a great oath that he would havethe fiddlers from Mudbury.

　　"I'll go and play a country-dance," said Mrs. ButeCrawley, very readily (she is a little, black-faced oldwoman in a turban, rather crooked, and with verytwinkling eyes); and after the Captain and your poor littleRebecca had performed a dance together, do you knowshe actually did me the honour to compliment me uponmy steps! Such a thing was never heard of before; theproud Mrs. Bute Crawley, first cousin to the Earl ofTiptoff, who won't condescend to visit Lady Crawley,except when her sister is in the country. Poor LadyCrawley! during most part of these gaieties, she isupstairs taking pills.

　　Mrs. Bute has all of a sudden taken a great fancy tome. "My dear Miss Sharp," she says, "why not bringover your girls to the Rectory?--their cousins will be sohappy to see them." I know what she means. SignorClementi did not teach us the piano for nothing; atwhich price Mrs. Bute hopes to get a professor for herchildren. I can see through her schemes, as though shetold them to me; but I shall go, as I am determined tomake myself agreeable--is it not a poor governess'sduty, who has not a friend or protector in the world?The Rector's wife paid me a score of compliments aboutthe progress my pupils made, and thought, no doubt, totouch my heart--poor, simple, country soul!--as if Icared 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 dealworn now; but, you know, we poor girls can't afford desfraiches toilettes. Happy, happy you! who have but todrive to St. James's Street, and a dear mother who willgive you any thing you ask. Farewell, dearest girl,

　　Your affectionateRebecca.

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

　　When Mrs. Bute Crawley (whose artifices our ingeniousRebecca had so soon discovered) had procured fromMiss Sharp the promise of a visit, she induced the all-powerful Miss Crawley to make the necessary applicationto Sir Pitt, and the good-natured old lady, who loved tobe gay herself, and to see every one gay and happy roundabout her, was quite charmed, and ready to establish areconciliation and intimacy between her two brothers.It was therefore agreed that the young people of bothfamilies should visit each other frequently for the future,and the friendship of course lasted as long as the jovialold mediatrix was there to keep the peace.

　　"Why did you ask that scoundrel, Rawdon Crawley, todine?" said the Rector to his lady, as they were walkinghome through the park. "I don't want the fellow. He looksdown 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 adrunkard--he's a profligate in every way. He shot a manin a duel--he's over head and ears in debt, and he'srobbed me and mine of the best part of Miss Crawley'sfortune. Waxy says she has him"--here the Rector shookhis fist at the moon, with something very like an oath,and added, in a melancholious tone, "--, down in her willfor fifty thousand; and there won't be above thirty todivide."

　　"I think she's going," said the Rector's wife. "She wasvery red in the face when we left dinner. I was obligedto unlace her."

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

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

　　"She drank cherry-brandy after dinner," continued hisReverence, "and took curacao with her coffee. Iwouldn't take a glass for a five-pound note: it kills mewith heartburn. She can't stand it, Mrs. Crawley--shemust go--flesh and blood won't bear it! and I lay five totwo, Matilda drops in a year."

　　Indulging in these solemn speculations, and thinkingabout his debts, and his son Jim at College, and Frank atWoolwich, and the four girls, who were no beauties, poorthings, and would not have a penny but what they got fromthe aunt's expected legacy, the Rector and his lady walkedon for a while.

　　"Pitt can't be such an infernal villain as to sell thereversion of the living. And that Methodist milksop of aneldest son looks to Parliament," continued Mr. Crawley,after a pause.

　　"Sir Pitt Crawley will do anything," said the Rector'swife. "We must get Miss Crawley to make him promise itto James."

　　"Pitt will promise anything," replied the brother. "Hepromised 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! Andit's to this man's son--this scoundrel, gambler, swindler,murderer of a Rawdon Crawley, that Matilda leaves thebulk of her money. I say it's un-Christian. By Jove, it is.The infamous dog has got every vice except hypocrisy,and that belongs to his brother."

　　"Hush, my dearest love! we're in Sir Pitt's grounds,"interposed his wife.

　　"I say he has got every vice, Mrs. Crawley. Don'tMa'am, bully me. Didn't he shoot Captain Marker? Didn'the rob young Lord Dovedale at the Cocoa-Tree? Didn'the cross the fight between Bill Soames and the CheshireTrump, by which I lost forty pound? You know he did;and as for the women, why, you heard that before me, inmy own magistrate's room "

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

　　"And you ask this villain into your house!" continuedthe exasperated Rector. "You, the mother of a youngfamily--the wife of a clergyman of the Church ofEngland. By Jove!"

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

　　"Well, Ma'am, fool or not--and I don't say, Martha,I'm so clever as you are, I never did. But I won't meetRawdon 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. By Jove, I will;or against any dog in England. But I won't meet thatbeast Rawdon Crawley."

　　"Mr. Crawley, you are intoxicated, as usual," repliedhis wife. And the next morning, when the Rector woke,and called for small beer, she put him in mind of hispromise to visit Sir Huddleston Fuddleston on Saturday,and as he knew he should have a wet night, it was agreedthat he might gallop back again in time for church onSunday morning. Thus it will be seen that the parishionersof Crawley were equally happy in their Squire and in theirRector.

　　Miss Crawley had not long been established at the Hallbefore Rebecca's fascinations had won the heart of thatgood-natured London rake, as they had of the countryinnocents whom we have been describing. Taking heraccustomed drive, one day, she thought fit to order that"that little governess" should accompany her to Mudbury.Before they had returned Rebecca had made a conquestof her; having made her laugh four times, and amused herduring the whole of the little journey.

　　"Not let Miss Sharp dine at table!" said she to Sir Pitt,who had arranged a dinner of ceremony, and asked all theneighbouring baronets. "My dear creature, do yousuppose I can talk about the nursery with Lady Fuddleston, ordiscuss justices' business with that goose, old Sir GilesWapshot? I insist upon Miss Sharp appearing. Let LadyCrawley remain upstairs, if there is no room. But littleMiss Sharp! Why, she's the only person fit to talk to inthe county!"

　　Of course, after such a peremptory order as this, MissSharp, the governess, received commands to dine with theillustrious company below stairs. And when Sir Huddlestonhad, with great pomp and ceremony, handed MissCrawley in to dinner, and was preparing to take hisplace by her side, the old lady cried out, in a shrillvoice, "Becky Sharp! Miss Sharp! Come you and sit byme and amuse me; and let Sir Huddleston sit by LadyWapshot."

　　When the parties were over, and the carriages hadrolled away, the insatiable Miss Crawley would say,"Come to my dressing room, Becky, and let us abuse thecompany"--which, between them, this pair of friends didperfectly. Old Sir Huddleston wheezed a great deal atdinner; Sir Giles Wapshot had a particularly noisy mannerof imbibing his soup, and her ladyship a wink of the lefteye; all of which Becky caricatured to admiration; as wellas the particulars of the night's conversation; the politics;the war; the quarter-sessions; the famous run with theH.H., and those heavy and dreary themes, about whichcountry gentlemen converse. As for the Misses Wapshot'stoilettes and Lady Fuddleston's famous yellow hat, MissSharp tore them to tatters, to the infinite amusementof her audience.

　　"My dear, you are a perfect trouvaille," Miss Crawleywould say. "I wish you could come to me in London,but I couldn't make a butt of you as I do of poor Briggsno, no, you little sly creature; you are too clever--Isn'tshe, Firkin?"

　　Mrs. Firkin (who was dressing the very smallremnant 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. In fact, Mrs. Firkinhad that natural jealousy which is one of the mainprinciples of every honest woman.

　　After rebuffing Sir Huddleston Fuddleston, MissCrawley ordered that Rawdon Crawley should lead her into dinner every day, and that Becky should follow with hercushion--or else she would have Becky's arm andRawdon with the pillow. "We must sit together," she said."We're the only three Christians in the county, my love"--in which case, it must be confessed, that religion wasat a very low ebb in the county of Hants.

　　Besides being such a fine religionist, Miss Crawleywas, as we have said, an Ultra-liberal in opinions, andalways took occasion to express these in the most candidmanner.

　　"What is birth, my dear!" she would say to Rebecca--"Look at my brother Pitt; look at the Huddlestons, whohave been here since Henry II; look at poor Bute at theparsonage--is any one of them equal to you in intelligenceor breeding? Equal to you--they are not even equal topoor dear Briggs, my companion, or Bowls, my butler.You, my love, are a little paragon--positively a littlejewel--You have more brains than half the shire--ifmerit had its reward you ought to be a Duchess--no,there ought to be no duchesses at all--but you ought tohave no superior, and I consider you, my love, as myequal in every respect; and--will you put some coals onthe fire, my dear; and will you pick this dress of mine, andalter it, you who can do it so well?" So this old philanthropistused to make her equal run of her errands, execute hermillinery, and read her to sleep with French novels,every night.

　　At this time, as some old readers may recollect, thegenteel world had been thrown into a considerable stateof excitement by two events, which, as the papers say,might give employment to the gentlemen of the long robe.Ensign Shafton had run away with Lady Barbara Fitzurse,the Earl of Bruin's daughter and heiress; and poor VereVane, a gentleman who, up to forty, had maintained amost respectable character and reared a numerous family,suddenly and outrageously left his home, for the sake ofMrs. Rougemont, the actress, who was sixty-five yearsof age.

　　"That was the most beautiful part of dear LordNelson's character," Miss Crawley said. "He went to thedeuce for a woman. There must be good in a man who willdo that. I adore all impudent matches.--What I likebest, is for a nobleman to marry a miller's daughter, asLord Flowerdale did--it makes all the women so angry--I wish some great man would run away with you, mydear; I'm sure you're pretty enough."

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

　　"And what I like next best, is for a poor fellow to runaway with a rich girl. I have set my heart on Rawdonrunning away with some one."

　　"A rich some one, or a poor some one?"

　　"Why, you goose! Rawdon has not a shilling but what Igive him. He is crible de dettes--he must repair hisfortunes, and succeed in the world."

　　"Is he very clever?" Rebecca asked.

　　"Clever, my love?--not an idea in the world beyond hishorses, and his regiment, and his hunting, and his play;but he must succeed--he's so delightfully wicked. Don'tyou know he has hit a man, and shot an injured fatherthrough the hat only? He's adored in his regiment; and allthe young men at Wattier's and the Cocoa-Tree swear byhim."

　　When Miss Rebecca Sharp wrote to her beloved friendthe account of the little ball at Queen's Crawley, and themanner in which, for the first time, Captain Crawley haddistinguished her, she did not, strange to relate, give analtogether accurate account of the transaction. The Captainhad distinguished her a great number of times before. TheCaptain had met her in a half-score of walks. The Captainhad lighted upon her in a half-hundred of corridors andpassages. The Captain had hung over her piano twentytimes of an evening (my Lady was now upstairs, being ill,and nobody heeded her) as Miss Sharp sang. The Captain hadwritten her notes (the best that the great blunderingdragoon could devise and spell; but dulness gets onas well as any other quality with women). But when heput the first of the notes into the leaves of the song shewas singing, the little governess, rising and looking himsteadily 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, andmade him a very low curtsey, and went back to herplace, and began to sing away again more merrily thanever.

　　"What's that?" said Miss Crawley, interrupted in herafter-dinner doze by the stoppage of the music.

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

　　Seeing the evident partiality of Miss Crawley for thenew governess, how good it was of Mrs. Bute Crawley notto be jealous, and to welcome the young lady to theRectory, and not only her, but Rawdon Crawley, herhusband's rival in the Old Maid's five per cents! Theybecame very fond of each other's society, Mrs. Crawleyand her nephew. He gave up hunting; he declinedentertainments at Fuddleston: he would not dine with themess of the depot at Mudbury: his great pleasure was to strollover to Crawley parsonage--whither Miss Crawley cametoo; and as their mamma was ill, why not the childrenwith Miss Sharp? So the children (little dears!) came withMiss Sharp; and of an evening some of the party wouldwalk back together. Not Miss Crawley--she preferred hercarriage--but the walk over the Rectory fields, and in atthe little park wicket, and through the dark plantation,and up the checkered avenue to Queen's Crawley, wascharming in the moonlight to two such lovers of thepicturesque as the Captain and Miss Rebecca.

　　"O those stars, those stars!" Miss Rebecca would say,turning her twinkling green eyes up towards them. "Ifeel myself almost a spirit when I gaze upon them."

　　"O--ah--Gad--yes, so do I exactly, Miss Sharp," theother enthusiast replied. "You don't mind my cigar, doyou, Miss Sharp?" Miss Sharp loved the smell of a cigarout of doors beyond everything in the world--and she justtasted one too, in the prettiest way possible, and gave alittle puff, and a little scream, and a little giggle, andrestored the delicacy to the Captain, who twirled hismoustache, and straightway puffed it into a blaze thatglowed quite red in the dark plantation, and swore--"Jove--aw--Gad--aw--it's the finest segaw I ever smoked inthe world aw," for his intellect and conversation werealike brilliant and becoming to a heavy young dragoon.

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

　　"He be a bad'n, sure enough," Mr. Horrocks remarked;"and his man Flethers is wuss, and have made such a rowin the housekeeper's room about the dinners and hale, asno lord would make--but I think Miss Sharp's a matchfor'n, Sir Pitt," he added, after a pause.

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