The news of Lady Crawley's death provoked no more grief or comment than

might have been expected in Miss Crawley's family circle. "I suppose I

must put off my party for the 3rd," Miss Crawley said; and added, after

a pause, "I hope my brother will have the decency not to marry again."

"What a confounded rage Pitt will be in if he does," Rawdon remarked,

with his usual regard for his elder brother. Rebecca said nothing. She

seemed by far the gravest and most impressed of the family. She left

the room before Rawdon went away that day; but they met by chance

below, as he was going away after taking leave, and had a parley

together.

On the morrow, as Rebecca was gazing from the window, she startled Miss

Crawley, who was placidly occupied with a French novel, by crying out

in an alarmed tone, "Here's Sir Pitt, Ma'am!" and the Baronet's knock

followed this announcement.

"My dear, I can't see him. I won't see him. Tell Bowls not at home,

or go downstairs and say I'm too ill to receive any one. My nerves

really won't bear my brother at this moment," cried out Miss Crawley,

and resumed the novel.

"She's too ill to see you, sir," Rebecca said, tripping down to Sir

Pitt, who was preparing to ascend.

"So much the better," Sir Pitt answered. "I want to see YOU, Miss

Becky. Come along a me into the parlour," and they entered that

apartment together.

"I wawnt you back at Queen's Crawley, Miss," the baronet said, fixing

his eyes upon her, and taking off his black gloves and his hat with its

great crape hat-band. His eyes had such a strange look, and fixed upon

her so steadfastly, that Rebecca Sharp began almost to tremble.

"I hope to come soon," she said in a low voice, "as soon as Miss

Crawley is better--and return to--to the dear children."

"You've said so these three months, Becky," replied Sir Pitt, "and

still you go hanging on to my sister, who'll fling you off like an old

shoe, when she's wore you out. I tell you I want you. I'm going back

to the Vuneral. Will you come back? Yes or no?"

"I daren't--I don't think--it would be right--to be alone--with you,

sir," Becky said, seemingly in great agitation.

"I say agin, I want you," Sir Pitt said, thumping the table. "I can't

git on without you. I didn't see what it was till you went away. The

house all goes wrong. It's not the same place. All my accounts has

got muddled agin. You MUST come back. Do come back. Dear Becky, do

come."

"Come--as what, sir?" Rebecca gasped out.

"Come as Lady Crawley, if you like," the Baronet said, grasping his

crape hat. "There! will that zatusfy you? Come back and be my wife.

Your vit vor't. Birth be hanged. You're as good a lady as ever I see.

You've got more brains in your little vinger than any baronet's wife in

the county. Will you come? Yes or no?"




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