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cant afford des fraiches toilettes. Happy, happy you! who have but to drive to St. Jamess Street, and a dear mother who will give you any thing you ask. Farewell, dearest girl, Your affectionate Rebecca. P.S.I wish you could have seen the faces of the Miss Blackbrooks (Admiral Blackbrooks daughters, my dear), fine young ladies, with dresses from London, when Captain Rawdon selected poor me for a partner! When Mrs. Bute Crawley (whose artifices our ingenious Rebecca had so soon discovered) had procured from Miss Sharp the promise of a visit, she induced the all- powerful Miss Crawley to make the necessary application to Sir Pitt, and the good-natured old lady, who loved to be gay herself, and to see every one gay and happy round about her, was quite charmed, and ready to establish a reconciliation and intimacy between her two brothers. It was therefore agreed that the young people of both families should visit each other frequently for the future, and the friendship of course lasted as long as the jovial old mediatrix was there to keep the peace. Why did you ask that scoundrel, Rawdon Crawley, to dine? said the Rector to his lady, as they were walking home through the park. I dont want the fellow. He looks down upon us country people as so many blackamoors. Hes never content unless he gets my yellow-sealed wine, which costs me ten shillings a bottle, hang him! Besides, hes such an infernal characterhes a gamblerhes a drunkardhes a profligate in every way. He shot a man in a duelhes over head and ears in debt, and hes robbed me and mine of the best part of Miss Crawleys fortune. Waxy says she has himhere the Rector shook his fist at the moon, with something very like an oath, and added, in a melancholious tone, , down in her will for fifty thousand; and there wont be above thirty to divide. I think shes going, said the Rectors wife. She was very red in the face when we left dinner. I was obliged to unlace her. She drank seven glasses of champagne, said the reverend gentleman, in a low voice; and filthy champagne it is, too, that my brother poisons us withbut you women never know whats what. We know nothing, said Mrs. Bute Crawley. She drank cherry-brandy after dinner, continued his Reverence, and took curacao with her coffee. I wouldnt take a glass for a five-pound note: it kills me with heartburn. She cant stand it, Mrs. Crawleyshe must goflesh and blood wont bear it! and I lay five to two, Matilda drops in a year. Indulging in these solemn speculations, and thinking about his debts, and his son Jim at College, and Frank at Woolwich, and the four girls, who were no beauties, poor things, and would not have a penny but what they got from the aunts expected legacy, the Rector and his lady walked on for a while. Pitt cant be such an infernal villain as to sell the reversion of the living. And that Methodist milksop of an eldest son looks to Parliament, continued Mr. Crawley, after a pause. Sir Pitt Crawley will do anything, said the Rectors wife. We must get Miss Crawley to make him promise it to James. Pitt will promise anything, replied the brother. He promised hed pay my college bills, when my father died; he promised hed build the new wing to the Rectory; he promised hed let me have Jibbs field and the Six- acre Meadowand much he executed his promises! And its to this mans sonthis scoundrel, gambler, swindler, murderer of a Rawdon Crawley, that Matilda leaves the bulk of her money. I say its 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! were in Sir Pitts grounds, interposed his wife. I say he has got every vice, Mrs. Crawley. Dont Maam, bully me. Didnt he shoot Captain Marker? Didnt he rob young Lord Dovedale at the Cocoa-Tree? Didnt he cross the fight between Bill Soames and the Cheshire Trump, by which I lost forty pound? You know he did; and as for the women, why, you heard that before me, in my own magistrates room For heavens sake, Mr. Crawley, said the lady, spare me the details. And you ask this villain into your house! continued the exasperated Rector. You, the mother of a young familythe wife of a clergyman of the Church of England. By Jove! Bute Crawley, you are a fool, said the Rectors wife scornfully. Well, Maam, fool or notand I dont say, Martha, Im so clever as you are, I never did. But I wont meet Rawdon Crawley, thats flat. Ill go over to Huddleston, that I will, and see his black greyhound, Mrs. Crawley; and Ill run Lancelot against him for fifty. By Jove, I will; or against any dog in England. But I wont meet that beast Rawdon Crawley. |
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