Lapas attēli
PDF
ePub

lute with great gravity: but Rawdon having' pany. As for little Rawdon, who examined been smoking, hung back rather from his it, with the children for his guides, it seemed sister-in-law, whose two children came up to him a perfect palace of enchantment and to their cousin; and, while Matilda held out her hand and kissed him, Pitt Binkie Southdown, the son and heir, stood aloof rather, and examined him as a little dog does a big dog.

Then the kind hostess conducted her guests to the snug apartments blazing with cheerful fires. Then the young ladies came and knocked at Mrs. Rawdon's door, under the pretense that they were desirous to be useful, but in reality to have the pleasure of inspecting the contents of her band and bonnet-boxes, and her dresses, which, though black, were of the newest London fashion. And they told her how much the Hall was changed for the better, and how old Lady Southdown was gone, and how Pitt was taking his station in the country, as became a Crawley, in fact. Then, the great dinnerbell having rung, the family assembled at dinner, at which meal Rawdon Junior was placed by his aunt, the good-natured lady of the house; Sir Pitt being uncommonly attentive to his sister-in-law at his own right hand.

Little Rawdon exhibited a fine appetite, and showed a gentlemanlike behavior.

"I like to dine here," he said to his aunt, when he had completed his meal, at the conclusion of which, and after a decent grace by Sir Pitt, the young son and heir was introduced, and was perched on a high chair by the baronet's side, while the daughter took possession of the place and the little wine-glass prepared for her near her mother. "I like to dine here," said Rawdon Minor, looking up at his relation's kind face.

"Why?" said the good Lady Jane.

"I dine in the kitchen when I am at home," replied Rawdon Minor, " or else with Briggs." But Becky was so engaged with the baronet, her host, pouring out a flood of compliments, and delights, and raptures, and admiring young Pitt Binkie, whom she declared to be the most beautiful, intelligent, noble-looking little creature, and so like his father, that she did not hear the remarks of her own flesh and blood at the other end of the broad, shining table.

As a guest, and it being the first night of his arrival, Rawdon the Second was allowed to sit up until the hour when tea being over, and a great gilt book being laid on the table before Sir Pitt, all the domestics of the family streamed in, and Sir Pitt read prayers. It was the first time the poor little boy had ever witnessed or heard of such a ceremonial.

The house had been much improved even since the baronet's brief reign, and was pronounced by Becky to be perfect, charming, delightful, when she surveyed it in his com

wonder. There were long galleries, and ancient state-bed rooms; there were pictures, and old china, and armor. There were the rooms in which grandpapa died, and by which the children walked with terrified looks. "Who was grandpapa?" he asked; and they told him how he used to be very old, and used to be wheeled about in a garden-chair, and they showed him the garden-chair one day rotting in the out-house in which it had lain since the old gentleman had been wheeled away yonder to the church, of which the spire was glittering over the park elms.

The brothers had good occupation for several mornings in examining the improvements which had been effected by Sir Pitt's genius and economy. And as they walked or rode, and looked at them, they could talk without too much boring each other. And Pitt took care to tell Rawdon what a heavy outlay of money these improvements had occasioned; and that a man of landed and funded property was often very hard pressed for twenty pounds. "There is that new lodge gate," said Pitt, pointing to it humbly with the bamboo cane, "I can no more pay for it before the dividends in January than I can fly."

"I can lend you, Pitt, till then," Rawdon answered, rather ruefully; and they went in and looked at the restored lodge, where the family arms were just new scraped in stone; and where old Mrs. Lock, for the first time these many long years, had tight doors, sound roofs, and whole windows.

CHAPTER XLV.

BETWEEN HAMPSHIRE AND LONDON. SIR PITT CRAWLEY had done more than repair fences and restore dilapidated lodges on the Queen's Crawley estate. Like a wise man he had set to work to rebuild the injured popularity of his house, and stop up the gaps and ruins in which his name had been left by his disreputable and thriftless old predecessor. He was elected for the borough speedily after his father's demise; a magistrate, a member of parliament, a county magnate and representative of an ancient family, he made it his duty to show himself before the Hampshire public, subscribed handsomely to the county charities, called assiduously upon all the county folks, and laid himself out in a word to take that position in Hampshire, and in the empire afterwards, to which he thought his pro digious talents justly entitled him. Lady Jane was instructed to be friendly with the Fuddlestones, and the Wapshots, and

66

the other famous baronets, their neighbors. | visit, dilated on the kindness with which her Their carriages might frequently be seen in ladyship had treated her in sickness, and the Queen's Crawley avenue now; they declared that every thing at Queen's Crawdined pretty frequently at the Hall (where ley reminded her of her absent friend. the cookery was so good, that it was clear A great part of the altered demeanor and Lady Jane very seldom had a hand in it), popularity of Sir Pitt Crawley might have and in return Pitt and his wife most ener- been traced to the counsels of that astute getically dined out in all sorts of weather, little lady of Curzon-street. "You remain and at all sorts of distances. For though a baronet you consent to be a mere country Pitt did not care for joviality, being a frigid gentleman," she said to him, while he had man of poor health and appetite, yet he been her guest in London. No, Sir Pitt considered that to be hospitable and conde- Crawley, I know you better. I know your scending was quite incumbent on his station, talents and your ambition. You fancy you and every time that he got a headache from hide them both: but you can conceal neitoo long an after-dinner sitting, he felt that he ther from me. I showed Lord Steyne your was a martyr to duty. He talked about pamphlet on malt. He was familiar with crops, corn-laws, politics, with the best it and said it was in the opinion of the country gentlemen. He (who had been whole Cabinet the most masterly thing that formerly inclined to be a sad freethinker had appeared on the subject. The ministry on these points), entered into poaching and has its eye upon you, and I know what you game preserving with ardor. He didn't want. You want to distinguish yourself in hunt; he wasn't a hunting man; he was a Parliament; every one says you are the man of books and peaceful habits; but he finest speaker in England (for your speeches thought that the breed of horses must be at Oxford are still remembered.) You want kept up in the country, and that the breed to be member for the county, where with of foxes must therefore be looked to, and, your own vote and your borough at your for his part, if his friend, Sir Huddlestone back, you can command any thing. And Fuddlestone liked to draw his county, and you want to be Baron Crawley of Queen's meet, as of old the F. hounds used to do, at Crawley, and will be before you die. I saw Queen's Crawley, he should be happy to it all. I could read your heart, Sir Pitt. see him there, and the gentlemen of the If I had a husband who possessed your inFuddlestone hunt. And to Lady South-tellect as he does your name, I sometimes down's dismay too, he became orthodox in think I should not be unworthy of him-but his tendencies every day gave up preach--but I am your kinswoman now," she ing in public and attending meeting-houses; added with a laugh. "Poor little penniless, went stoutly to church; called on the bishop I have got a little interest-and who knows, and all the clergy at Winchester; and made perhaps the mouse may be able to aid the no objection when the venerable Archdeacon lion." Trumper asked for a game of whist. What pangs must have been those of Lady Southdown, and what an utter cast-away she must have thought her son-in-law for permitting such a godless diversion! and when, on the return of the family from an oratorio at Winchester, the baronet announced to the young ladies that he should next year very probably take them to the county balls. They worshiped him for his kindness. Lady Jane was only too obedient, and perhaps glad herself to go. The dowager wrote off the direst descriptions of her daughter's worldly behavior to the authoress of the "Washerwoman of Finchley Common" at the Cape; and her house in Brighton being about this time unoccupied, returned to that watering-place, her absence not being very much deplored by her children. We may suppose, too, that Rebecca, on paying a second visit to Queen's Crawley, did not feel particularly grieved at the absence of the lady of the medicine-chest; though she wrote a Christmas letter to her ladyship, in which she respectfully recalled herself to Lady Southdown's recollection, spoke with gratitude of the delight which her ladyship's conversation had given her on the former

Pitt Crawley was amazed and enraptured with her speech. "How that woman comprehends me!" he said. "I never could get Jane to read three pages of the maltpamphlet. She has no idea that I have commanding talents or secret ambition. So they remember my speaking at Oxford, do they? The rascals! now that I represent my borough and may sit for the county, they begin to recollect me! Why, Lord Steyne cut me at the levee last year: they are beginning to find out that Pitt Crawley is some one at last. Yes, the man was always the same whom these people neglected: it was only the opportunity that was wanting, and I will show them how that I can speak and act, as well as write. Achilles did not declare himself until they gave him the sword. I hold it now, and the world shall yet hear of Pitt Crawley."

Therefore it was that this roguish diplomatist had grown so hospitable; that he was so civil to oratorios and hospitals; so kind to deans and chapters; so generous in giving and accepting dinners; so uncommonly gracious to farmers on market-days; and so much interested about county business; and that the Christmas at the Hall was the gay

est which had been known there for many | ther a chill. Perhaps Sir Pitt was rather a long day. too attentive to her.

But Rawdon, as became his age and size, was fonder of the society of the men than of the women; and never wearied of accompanying his sire to the stables, whither the colonel retired to smoke his cigar-Jim, the rector's son, sometimes joining his cousin in that and other amusements. He and the baronet's keeper were very close friends, their mutual taste for "dawgs" bringing them much together. On one day, Mr. James, the colonel, and Horn, the keeper, went and shot pheasants, taking little Rawdon with them. On another most blissful morning, these four gentlemen partook of the amusement of rat-hunting in a barn, as which sport Rawdon as yet had never seen any thing so noble. They stopped up the ends of certain drains in the barn, into the other openings of which ferrets were inserted; and then stood silently aloof with uplifted stakes in their hands, and an anxious little terrier (Mr. James's celebrated

On Christmas day a great family gathering took place. All the Crawleys from the Rectory came to dine. Rebecca was as frank and fond of Mrs. Bute, as if the other had never been her enemy, affectionately interested in the dear girls, and surprised at the progress which they had made in music since her time: and insisted upon encoring one of the duets out of the great song-books which Jim, grumbling, had been forced to bring under his arm from the Rectory. Mrs. Bute, perforce, was obliged to adopt a decent demeanor toward the little adventuress-of course being free to discourse with her daughters afterward about the absurd respect with which Sir Pitt treated his sister-in-law. But Jim, who had sate next to her at dinner, declared she was a trump and one and all of the Rector's family agreed that the little Rawdon was a fine boy. They respected a possible baronet in the boy, between whom and the title there was only the little, sickly, pale Pitt" dawg" Forceps, indeed), scarcely breathBinkie.

The children were very good friends. Pitt Binkie was too little a dog for such a big dog as Rawdon to play with: and Matilda being only a girl, of course not fit companion for a young gentleman who was near eight years old, and going into jackets very

soon.

He took the command of this small party at once-the little girl and the little boy following him about with great reverence at such times as he condescended to sport with them. His happiness and pleasure in the country were extreme. The kitchen-garden pleased him hugely, the flowers moderately, but the pigeons and the poultry, and the stables when he was allowed to visit them, were delightful objects to him. He resisted being kissed by the Miss Crawleys but he allowed Lady Jane sometimes to embrace him: and it was by her side that he liked to sit when the signal to retire to the drawing-room being given, the ladies left the gentlemen to their claret-by her side, rather than by his mother. For Rebecca seeing that tenderness was the fashion, called Rawdon to her one evening, and stooped down and kissed him in the presence of all the ladies.

He looked her full in the face after the operation, trembling and turning very red, as his wont was when moved. "You never kiss me at home, mamma," he said; at which there was a general silence and consternation, and a by no means pleasant look in Becky's eyes.

ing from excitement, listening motionless, on three legs, to the faint squeaking of the rats below. Desperately bold at last, the persecuted animals sneaked aboveground: the terrier accounted for one, the keeper for another; Rawdon, from flurry and excitement, missed his rat, but, on the other hand, he half-murdered a ferret.

But the greatest day of all was that on which Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone's hounds met upon the lawn at Queen's Crawley.

That was a famous sight for little Rawdon. At half-past ten, Tom Moody, Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone's huntsman, is seen trotting up the avenue, followed by the noble pack of hounds in a compact body— the rear being brought up by the two whips clad in stained scarlet frocks-light, hardfeatured lads on well-bred, lean horses, possessing marvelous dexterity in casting the points of their long, heavy whips at the thinnest part of any dog's skin who dares to straggle from the main body, or to take the slightest notice, or even so much as wink at the hares and rabbits starting under their nose.

Next comes boy Jack, Tom Moody's son, who weighs five stone, measures eight-andforty inches, and will never be any bigger. He is perched on a large raw-boned hunter, half covered by a capacious saddle. This animal is Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone's favorite horse-the Nob. Other horses, ridden by other small boys, arrive from time to time, awaiting their masters, who will come cantering on anon.

Rawdon was fond of his sister-in-law, for her regard for his son. Lady Jane and Tom Moody rides up to the door of the Becky, did not get on quite so well at this Hall, where he is welcomed by the butler, visit as on occasion of the former one, when who offers him drink, which he declines. the colonel's wife was bent upon pleasing. He and his pack then draw off into a shelThose two speeches of the child struck ra-tered corner of the lawn, where the dogs

roll on the grass, and play or growl angrily at one another, ever and anon breaking out into furious fight speedily to be quelled by Tom's voice, unmatched at rating, or the snaky thongs of the whips.

Hunters arrived from time to time, in charge of boys of the boy Jack species-the young gentlemen canter up on thoroughbred hacks spatterdashed to the knee, and enter the house to drink cherry-brandy and pay their respects to the ladies, or, more modest and sportsman-like, divest themselves of their mud-boots, exchange their hacks for their hunters, and warm their blood by a preliminary gallop round the lawn. Then they collect round the pack in the corner, and talk with Tom Moody of past sport and the merits of Sniveller and Diamond, and of the state of the country, and of the wretched breed of foxes.

Sir Huddlestone presently appears mounted on a clever cob, and rides up to the Hall, where he enters and does the civil thing by the ladies; after which, being a man of few words, he proceeds to business. The hounds are drawn up to the Hall-door, and little Rawdon descends among them, excited, yet half alarmed, by the caresses which they bestow upon him, at the thumps he receives from their waving tails, and at their canine bickerings, scarcely restrained by Tom Moody's tongue and lash.

Meanwhile Sir Huddlestone has hoisted himself unwieldily on the Nob: "Let's try Sowster's Spinney, Tom," says the baronet, "Farmer Mangle tells me there are two foxes in it." Will blows his horn and trots off, followed by the pack, by the whips, by the young gents from Winchester, by the farmers of the neighborhood, by the laborers of the parish on foot, with whom the day is a great holiday; Sir Huddlestone bringing up the rear with Colonel Crawley, and the whole cortège disappears down the avenue. The Reverend Bute Crawley (who has been too modest to appear at the public meet before his nephew's windows), ard whom Tom Moody remembers forty years back a slender divine riding the wildest horses, jumping the wildest brooks, and larking over the newest gates in the countryhis Reverence, we say, happens to trot out from the Rectory lane on his powerful black horse, just as Sir Huddlestone passes; he joins the worthy baronet. Hounds and horsemen disappear, and little Rawdon remains on the door-steps, wondering and happy. During the progress of this memorable holiday, little Rawdon, if he had got no special liking for his uncle, always awful and cold, and locked up in his study, plunged in justice-business, and surrounded by bailiffs and farmers has gained the good graces of his married and maiden aunts, of the two little folks of the Hall, and of Jim of the Rectory, whom Sir Pitt is encouraging to

pay his addresses to one of the young ladies, with an understanding, doubtless, that he shall be presented to the living when it shall be vacated by his fox-hunting old sire. Jim has given up that sport himself, and confines himself to a little harmless duck or snipeshooting, or a little quiet trifling with the rats during the Christmas holidays, after which he will return to the University and try and not be plucked, once more. He has already eschewed green coats, red neckcloths, and other worldly ornaments, and is preparing himself for a change in his condition. In this cheap and thrifty way Sir Pitt tries to pay off his debt to his family.

Also, before this merry Christmas was over, the baronet had screwed up courage enough to give his brother another draft on his bankers, and for no less a sum than a hundred pounds-an act which caused Sir Pitt cruel pangs at first, but which made him glow afterward to think himself one of the most generous of men. Rawdon and his son went away with the utmost heaviness of heart. Becky and the ladies parted with some alacrity, however: and our friend returned to London to commence those avocations with which we find her occupied when this chapter begins. Under her care the Crawley House, in Great Gaunt-street, was quite rejuvenescent, and ready for the reception of Sir Pitt and his family, when the baronet came to London to attend his duties in Parliament, and to assume that position in the country for which his vast genius fitted him.

For the first session this profound dissembler hid his projects, and never opened his lips but to present a petition from Mudbury. But he attended assiduously in his place, and learned thoroughly the routine and business of the house. At home he gave himself up to the perusal of Blue Books, to the alarm and wonder of Lady Jane, who thought he was killing himself by late hours and intense application. And he made acquaintance with the ministers, and the chiefs of his party, determining to rank as one of them before many years were over.

Lady Jane's sweetness and kindness had inspired Rebecca with such a contempt for her ladyship as the little woman found no small difficulty in concealing. That sort of goodness and simplicity which Lady Jane possessed, annoyed our friend Becky, and it was impossible for her at times not to show, or to let the other divine her scorn. Her presence, too, rendered Lady Jane uneasy. Her husband talked constantly with Becky. Signs of intelligence seemed to pass between them: and Pitt spoke with her on subjects on which he never thought of discoursing with Lady Jane. The latter did not understand them to be sure, but it was mortifying to remain silent; still more

mortifying to know that you had nothing to say, and hear that little audacious Mrs. Rawdon dashing on from subject to subject, with a word for every man, and a joke always pat; and to sit in one's own house alone, by the fireside, and watching all the men round your rival.

In the country, when Lady Jane was telling stories to the children, who clustered about her knees (little Rawdon into the bargain, who was very fond of her)-and Becky came into the room, sneering, with green scornful eyes, poor Lady Jane grew silent under those baleful glances. Her simple little fancies shrank away tremulously, as fairies in the story-books, before a superior bad angel. She could not go on, although Rebecca, with the smallest inflection of sarcasm in her voice, besought her to continue that charming story. And on her side, gentle thoughts and simple pleasures were odious to Mrs. Becky, they discorded with her; she hated people for liking them; she spurned children and children-lovers. "I have no taste for bread and butter," she would say, when caricaturing Lady Jane and her ways to my Lord Steyne.

[ocr errors]

No more has a certain person for holy water," his lordship replied with a bow and a grin, and a great jarring laugh afterward.

So these two ladies did not see much of each other except upon those occasions, when the younger brother's wife, having an object to gain from the other, frequented her. They my-loved and my-deared each other assiduously, but kept apart generally whereas Sir Pitt, in the midst of his multiplied avocations, found daily time to see his sister-in-law.

most gracious to the new baronet and member. Pitt was struck, too, by the deference with which the great peer treated his sister-in-law, by her ease and sprightliness in the conversation, and by the delight with which the other men of the party listened to her talk. Lord Steyne made no doubt but that the baronet had only commenced his career in public life, and expected rather anxiously to hear him as an orator; as they were neighbors (for Great Gaunt-street leads into Gaunt-square, whereof Gaunt House, as every body knows, forms one side) my lord hoped that as soon as Lady Steyne arrived in London she would have the honor of making the acquaintance of Lady Crawley. He left a card upon his neighbor in the course of a day or two: his neighbor whom he had, as his predecessor, never thought fit to notice, though they had lived near each other for near a century past.

In the midst of these intrigues and fine parties and wise and brilliant personages Rawdon felt himself more and more isolated every day. He was allowed to go to the club more: to dine abroad with bachelor friends to come and go when he liked, without any questions being asked. And he and Rawdon the younger many a time would walk to Gaunt-street, and sit with the lady and the children there while Sir Pitt was closeted with Rebecca, on his way to the house, or on his return from it.

The ex-colonel would sit for hours in his brother's house very silent, and thinking and doing as little as possible. He was glad to be employed of an errand: to go and make inquiries about a horse or a servant: or to carve the roast mutton for the dinner of the children. He was beat and cowed into lazi

bold and reckless young blood of ten years back was subjugated, and was turned into a torpid, submissive, middle-aged, stout gentleman.

And poor Lady Jane was aware that Rebecca had captivated her husband; although she and Mrs. Rawdon my-deared and myloved each other every day they met.

On the occasion of his first Speaker's din-ness and submission, and Dalilah had imner, Sir Pitt took the opportunity of appear-prisoned him and cut his hair off, too. The ing before his sister-in-law in his uniformthat old diplomatic suit which he had worn when attaché to the Pumpernickel legation. Becky complimented him upon that dress, and admired him almost as much as his own wife and children, to whom he displayed himself before he set out. She said that it was only the thorough-bred gentleman that could wear the court suit with advantage; it was only your men of ancient race whom the culotte courte became. Pitt looked down with complacency at his legs, which had not, in truth, much more symmetry or swell than the lean court sword which dangled by his side; looked dowa at his legs, and thought in his heart that he was killing.

When he was gone, Mrs. Becky made a caricature of his figure, which she showed to Lord Steyne when he arrived. His lordship carried off the sketch, delighted with the accuracy of the resemblance. He had done Sir Pitt Crawley the honor to meet him at Mrs. Becky's house, and had been

CHAPTER XLVI.

STRUGGLES AND TRIALS.

OUR friends at Brompton were meanwhile passing their Christmas after their fashion, and in a manner by no means too cheerful.

Out of the hundred pounds a year, which was about the amount of her income, the widow Osborne had been in the habit of giving up nearly three-fourths to her father and mother, for the expenses of herself and her little boy. With £120 more, supplied by Jos., this family of four people, attended

« iepriekšējāTurpināt »