Just as Briggs had finished reading this affecting and interesting

document, which reinstated her in her position as first confidante of

Miss Crawley, Mrs. Firkin entered the room. "Here's Mrs. Bute Crawley

just arrived by the mail from Hampshire, and wants some tea; will you

come down and make breakfast, Miss?"

And to the surprise of Firkin, clasping her dressing-gown around her,

the wisp of hair floating dishevelled behind her, the little

curl-papers still sticking in bunches round her forehead, Briggs sailed

down to Mrs. Bute with the letter in her hand containing the wonderful

news.

"Oh, Mrs. Firkin," gasped Betty, "sech a business. Miss Sharp have a

gone and run away with the Capting, and they're off to Gretney Green!"

We would devote a chapter to describe the emotions of Mrs. Firkin, did

not the passions of her mistresses occupy our genteeler muse.

When Mrs. Bute Crawley, numbed with midnight travelling, and warming

herself at the newly crackling parlour fire, heard from Miss Briggs the

intelligence of the clandestine marriage, she declared it was quite

providential that she should have arrived at such a time to assist poor

dear Miss Crawley in supporting the shock--that Rebecca was an artful

little hussy of whom she had always had her suspicions; and that as for

Rawdon Crawley, she never could account for his aunt's infatuation

regarding him, and had long considered him a profligate, lost, and

abandoned being. And this awful conduct, Mrs. Bute said, will have at

least this good effect, it will open poor dear Miss Crawley's eyes to

the real character of this wicked man. Then Mrs. Bute had a

comfortable hot toast and tea; and as there was a vacant room in the

house now, there was no need for her to remain at the Gloster Coffee

House where the Portsmouth mail had set her down, and whence she

ordered Mr. Bowls's aide-de-camp the footman to bring away her trunks.

Miss Crawley, be it known, did not leave her room until near noon--taking

chocolate in bed in the morning, while Becky Sharp read the

Morning Post to her, or otherwise amusing herself or dawdling. The

conspirators below agreed that they would spare the dear lady's

feelings until she appeared in her drawing-room: meanwhile it was

announced to her that Mrs. Bute Crawley had come up from Hampshire by

the mail, was staying at the Gloster, sent her love to Miss Crawley,

and asked for breakfast with Miss Briggs. The arrival of Mrs. Bute,

which would not have caused any extreme delight at another period, was

hailed with pleasure now; Miss Crawley being pleased at the notion of a

gossip with her sister-in-law regarding the late Lady Crawley, the

funeral arrangements pending, and Sir Pitt's abrupt proposal to Rebecca.

It was not until the old lady was fairly ensconced in her usual

arm-chair in the drawing-room, and the preliminary embraces and inquiries

had taken place between the ladies, that the conspirators thought it

advisable to submit her to the operation. Who has not admired the

artifices and delicate approaches with which women "prepare" their

friends for bad news? Miss Crawley's two friends made such an

apparatus of mystery before they broke the intelligence to her, that

they worked her up to the necessary degree of doubt and alarm.




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