in the room, and took a great oath that he "Mrs. Bute has all of a sudden taken a great fancy to me. My dear Miss Sharp,' she says, why not bring over your girls to the Rectory? their cousins would be so happy to see them.' I know what she means. Signor Clementi did not teach us the piano for nothing; at which price Mrs. Bute hopes to get a professor for her children. I can see through her schemes, as though she told them to me; but I shall go, as I am determined to make myself agreeable-is it not a poor governess's duty, who has not a friend or protector in the world? The rector's wife paid me a score of compliments about the progress my pupils made, and thought, no doubt, to touch my heartpoor, simple, country soul! as if I cared 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 deal worn now; but, you know, we poor girls can't afford des fraiches toilettes. Happy, happy you! who have but to drive to St. James's-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 Blackbrook's daughters, my dear): fine young ladies, with dresses from London, when Captain Rawdon selected poor me for a partner!" as the jovial old mediatrix was there to keep the peace. "Why did you ask that scoundrel, Petty Crawley, to dine?" said the rector to his lady, as they were walking home through the park. "I don't want the fellow. He looks down 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 characterhe's a gambler-he's a drunkard-he's a profligate in every way. He's killed a man in a duel-he's over head and ears in debt, and he's robbed me and mine of the best part of Miss Crawley's fortune. Waxy says she has him-" here the rector shook his fist at the moon, with something very like an oath, aud added, in a melancholious tone-" —, down in her will for fifty thousand; and there won't be above thirty to divide." "I think she's going," said the rector's 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 with-but you women never know what's what." "We know nothing," said Mrs. Bute Crawley. "She drank cherry-brandy after dinner,” continued his reverence, "and took curaçoa with her coffee. I wouldn't take a glass for a five pound note: it kills me with heartburn. She can't stand it, Mrs. Crawley— she must go-flesh and blood won't bear it! and I lay five to two, that 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 aunt's expected legacy, the rector and his lady walked on for a while. 66 Pitt can't 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 any thing," said the rector's wife. "We must get Miss Crawley to make him promise it to James." 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 "Pitt will promise any thing," replied the to see every one gay and happy round about brother. He promised he'd pay my colher, was quite charmed, and ready to estab- lege bills, when my father died: he promlish a reconciliation and intimacy between ised he'd build the new wing to the rectory: her two brothers. It was therefore agreed he promised he'd let me have Jibb's field that the young people of both families should and the six-acre meadow, and much he exvisit each other frequently for the future, ecuted his promises! And it's to this and the friendship of course lasted as long man's son-this scoundrel, gambler, swind ler, murderer of a Rawdon Crawley that sist upon Miss Sharp appearing. Let Lady Matilda leaves the bulk of her money. I Crawley remain up stairs, if there is no say it's un-Christian. By Jove, it is. The room. But little Miss Sharp! Why, she's infamous dog has got every vice except hy- the only person fit to talk to in the counpocrisy, and that belongs to his brother." ty!" Hush, my dearest love! we're in Sir Pitt's grounds," interposed his wife. 66 "I say he has got every vice, Mrs. Crawley. Don't, ma'am, bully me. Didn't he shoot Captain Firebrace? Didn't he rob young Lord Dovedale at the Cocoa-Tree?' Didn't 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 woman, why, you heard that before me, in my own magistrates' room-" 66 "And you ask this villain into your house!" continued the exasperated rector. You, the mother of a young family-the wife of a clergyman of the Church of England. By Jove!" "Bute Crawley, you are a fool," said the rector's wife, scornfully. Of course, after such a peremptory order as this, Miss Sharp, the governess, received commands to dine with the illustrious company below stairs. And when Sir Huddleston had, with great pomp and ceremony, handed Miss Crawley in to dinner, and was preparing to take his place by her side, the old lady cried out, in a shrill voice, "Becky Sharp! Miss Sharp! Come you and sit by me; and let Sir Huddleston sit by Lady Wapshot." When the parties were over, and the carriages had rolled away, the insatiable Miss Crawley would say, "Come to my dressingroom, Becky, and let us abuse the company" which, between them, this pair of friends did perfectly. Old Sir Huddleston wheezed a great deal at dinner; Sir Giles Wapshot had a particularly noisy manner of imbibing his soup, and her ladyship a wink of the left eye; all of which Becky caricatured to ad"Well, ma'am, fool or not-and I don't miration; as well as the particulars of the say, Martha, I'm so clever as you are, I nev-night's conversation; the politics; the war; er did. But I won't meet Rawdon Craw- the quarter-sessions; the famous run with ley, that's flat. I'll go over to Huddleston, the H. H., and those heavy and dreary that I will, and see his black grayhound, themes, about which country gentlemen conMrs. Crawley; and I'll run Lancelot against verse. As for the Misses Wapshots' toilets, him for fifty. By Jove, I will; or against and Lady Fuddleston's famous yellow hat, any dog in England. But I won't meet that Miss Sharp tore them to tatters, to the inbeast, Rawdon Crawley." finite amusement of her audience. "Mr. Crawley, you are intoxicated, as usual," replied his wife. And the next morning, when the rector woke, and called for small beer, she put him in mind of his promise to visit Sir Huddleston Fuddleston, on Saturday, and as he knew he should have a wet night, it was agreed that he might gallop back again in time for church on Sunday morning. Thus it will be seen that the parishioners of Crawley were equally happy in their squire and in their rector. Miss Crawley had not long been established at the Hall before Rebecca's fascinations had won the heart of that good-natured London rake, as they had of the country innocents whom we have been describing. Taking her accustomed 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 conquest of her; having made her laugh four times, and amused her during 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 the neighboring baronets. 66 My dear creature, do you suppose I can talk about the nursery with Lady Fuddleston, or discuss justices' business with that goose, old Sir Giles Wapshot? I in 66 My dear, you are a perfect trouvaille," Miss Crawley would 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't she, Firkin?" Mrs. Firkin (who was dressing the very small remnant 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. Firkin had that natural jealousy which is one of the main principles of every honest woman. After rebuffing Sir Huddleston Fuddleston, Miss Crawley ordered that Rawdon Crawley should lead her in to dinner every day, and that Becky should follow with her cushion-or else she would have Becky's arm and Rawdon 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 was at a very low ebb in the county of Hants. Besides being such a fine religionist, Miss Crawley was, as we have said, an ultraliberal in opinions, and always took occasion to express these in the most candid manner. "What is birth, my dear?" she would say to Rebecca-"Look at my brother Pitt; | men at Wattier's and the Cocoa Tree swear look at the Huddlestons, who have been by him.* here since Henry II.; look at poor Bute, at When Miss Rebecca Sharp wrote to her the parsonage-are any one of them equal beloved friend the account of the little ball to you in intelligence or breeding? Equal at Queen's Crawley, and the manner in to you they are not even equal to poor which, for the first time, Captain Crawley dear Briggs, my companion, or Rincer, my had distinguished her, she did not, strange butler. You, my love, are a little paragon to relate, give an altogether accurate ac-positively a little jewel-you have more count of the transaction. The captain had brains than half the shire-if merit had its distinguished her a great number of times reward, you ought to be a duchess; no, before. The captain had met her in a halfthere ought to be no duchesses at all-but score of walks. The captain had lighted you ought to have no superior, and I con- upon her in a half-hundred of corridors and sider you, my love, as my equal in every passages. The captain had hung over her respect; and will you put some coals on piano twenty times of an evening, as (my the fire, my dear; and will you pick this lady was now up-stairs, being ill, and nodress of mine, and alter it, you who can do body heeded her) she sang. The captain it so well?" So this old philanthropist used had written her notes (the best that the to make her equal run of her errands, ex- great blundering dragoon could devise and ecute her millinery, and read her to sleep spell; but dullness gets on as well as any with French novels, every night. other quality with women). But when he put the first of the notes into the leaves of the song she was singing, the little governess, rising and looking him steadily 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, and made him a very low courtesy, and went back to her place, and began to sing away again more merrily than ever. At this time, as some old readers may recollect, the genteel world had been thrown into a considerable state of excitement, by two events, which, as the papers say, might give employment to gentlemen of the long robe. Ensign Shafton had run away with Lady Barbara Fitzurse, the Earl of Bruin's daughter and heiress; and poor Vere Vane, a gentleman who, up to forty, had maintained a most respectable character and reared a numerous family, suddenly and outrageously left his home, for the sake of Mrs. Rougemont, the actress, who was sixty-five years of age. man. Two post-boys!-Oh! it would be delightful!" Rebecca owned. 66 What's that?" said Miss Crawley, interrupted in her after-dinner doze by the stoppage of the music. "It's a false note," Miss Sharp said, with a laugh; and Rawdon Crawley fumed with rage and mortification. That was the most beautiful part of dear Lord Nelson's character," Miss Crawley said. "He went to the deuce for a wo- Seeing the evident partiality of Miss There must be good in a man who Crawley for the new governess, how good will do that. I adore all imprudent matches. it was of Mrs. Bute Crawley not to be jealWhat I like best, is, for a nobleman to mar-ous, and to welcome the young lady to the ay a miller's daughter, as Lord Flowerdale Rectory, and not only her, but Rawdon did it makes all the women so angry-1 Crawley, her husband's rival in the old wish some great man would run away with maid's five per cents.! They became very you, my dear; I'm sure you're pretty fond of each other's society, Mrs. Crawley enough." and her nephew. He gave up hunting: he declined entertainments at Fuddleston: he would not dine with the mess of the depôt at Mudbury: his great pleasure was to stroll over to Crawley parsonage-whither Miss Crawley came too; and as their mamma was ill, why not the children with Miss Sharp? So the children (little dears!) came with Miss Sharp; and of an evening some of the party would walk back together. Miss Crawley-she preferred her carriagebut the walk over the Rectory fields, and in at the little park wicket, and through the dark plantation, and up the checkered avenue to Queen's Crawley, was charming in And what I like next best, is, for a poor fellow to run away with a rich girl. I have set my heart on Rawdon running away with some one." A rich some one, or a poor some one?" 66 Why, you goose! Rawdon has not a shilling but what I give him. He is crible de dettes-he must repair his fortunes, and succeed in the world." 66 Not Is he very clever," Rebecca asked. "Clever, my love ?-not an idea in the world beyond his horses, and his regiment, and his hunting, and his play; but he must *If any body considers this an overdrawn picture succeed-he's so delightfully wicked. Don't of a noble and influential class of persons, I refer you know he has killed a man, and shot an them to contemporaneous histories-such as Byron's Memoirs, for instance; in which popular illusinjured father through the hat only? He's tration of Vanity Fair, you have the morals of Richeadored in his regiment; and all the young lieu, and the elegance of Dutch Sam. the moonlight to two such lovers of the picturesque as the captain and Miss Rebecca. "O those stars, those stars!" Miss Rebecca would say, turning her twinkling green eyes up toward them. "I feel myself most a spirit when I gaze upon them." "O-ah-Gad—yes, so do I exactly, Miss Sharp?" the other enthusiast replied. You don't mind my cigar, do you, Miss Sharp ?" Miss Sharp loved the smell of a cigar out of doors beyond every thing in the world—and she just tasted one too, in the prettiest way possible, and gave a little puff, and a little But though virtue is a much finer thing, scream, and a little giggle, and restored the and those hapless creatures who suffer undelicacy to the captam; who twirled his der the misfortune of good looks ought to be moustache, and straightway puffed it into a continually put in mind of the fate which blaze that glowed quite red in the dark plan- awaits them; and though, very likely, the tation, and swore-" Jove-aw-Gad-aw heroic female character which ladies admire —its the finest segaw I ever smoked in the world aw," for his intellect and conversation were alike brilliant and becoming to a heavy young dragoon. and blue eyes, forsooth? these dear moralists ask, and hint wisely, that the gifts of genius, the accomplishments of the mind, the mastery of Mangnall's questions, and a ladylike al-knowledge of botany and geology, the gift of making poetry, the power of rattling sonatas in the Herz-manner, and so forth, are far more valuable endowments for a female, than those fugitive charms which a few years will inevitably tarnish. It is quite edifying to hear women speculate upon the worthlessness and the duration of beauty. Old Sir Pitt, who was taking his pipe and beer, and talking to John Horrocks about a "ship" that was to be killed, espied the pair so occupied, from his study-window, and with dreadful oaths swore that if it wasn't for Miss Crawley, he'd take Rawdon and bundle 'un out of doors, like a rogue as he was. "He be a bad’n, sure enough," Mr. Horrocks remarked; "and his man Flethers is wuss, and have made such a row in the housekeeper's room about the dinners and hale, as no lord would make-but I think Miss Sharp's a match for'n, Sir Pitt," he added, after a pause. And so, in truth, she was-for father and son too. CHAPTER XII. QUITE A SENTIMENTAL CHAPTER. WE must now take leave of Arcadia, and those amiable people practicing the rural virtues there, and travel back to London, to inquire what has become of Miss Amelia. "We don't care a fig for her," writes some unknown correspondent with a pretty little hand-writing and a pink seal to her note. "She is fade and insipid," and adds some more kind remarks in this strain, which I should never have repeated at all, but that they are in truth prodigiously complimentary to the young lady whom they concern. Has the beloved reader, in his experience of society, never heard similar remarks by good-natured female friends; who always wonder what you can see in Miss Smith that is so fascinating; or what could induce Major Jones to propose for that silly, insignificant, simpering Miss Thompson, who has nothing but her wax-doll face to recommend her? What is there in a pair of pink cheeks is a more glorious and beautiful object than the kind, fresh, smiling, artless, tender, little domestic goddess, whom men are inclined to worship-yet the latter and inferior sort of women must have this consolation—that the men do admire them after all; and that, in spite of all our kind friends' warnings and protests, we go on in our desperate error and folly, and shall to the end of the chapter. Indeed, for my own part, though I have been repeatedly told by persons for whom I have the greatest respect, that Miss Brown is an insignificant chit, and Mrs. White has nothing but her petit minois chif fonné, and Mrs. Black has not a word to say for herself; yet I know that I have had the most delightful conversations with Mrs. Black (of course, my dear madam, they are inviolable): I see all the men in a cluster round Mrs. White's chair: all the young fellows battling to dance with Miss Brown: and so I am tempted to think that to be despised by her sex is a very great compliment to a woman. "We are The young ladies in Amelia's society did this for her very satisfactorily. For instance, there was scarcely any point upon which the Miss Osbornes, George's sisters, and the Mesdemoiselles Dobbin agreed so well as in their estimate of her very trifling merits and their wonder that their brothers could find any charms in her. kind to her," the Misses Osborne said, a pair of fine, black-browed young ladies, who had had the best of governesses, masters, and milliners; and they treated her with such extreme kindness and condescension, and patronized her so insufferably, that the poor little thing was, in fact, perfectly dumb in their presence, and to all outward appearance as stupid as they thought her. made efforts to like them, as in duty bound, and as sisters of her future husband. She passed long mornings" with them-the most dreary and serious of forenoons. She drove out solemnly in their great family coach with them, and Miss Wirt their governess, that raw-boned vestal. They took She |