Well, there came a happy day in Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's existence when

this angel was admitted into the paradise of a Court which she coveted,

her sister-in-law acting as her godmother. On the appointed day, Sir

Pitt and his lady, in their great family carriage (just newly built,

and ready for the Baronet's assumption of the office of High Sheriff of

his county), drove up to the little house in Curzon Street, to the

edification of Raggles, who was watching from his greengrocer's shop,

and saw fine plumes within, and enormous bunches of flowers in the

breasts of the new livery-coats of the footmen.

Sir Pitt, in a glittering uniform, descended and went into Curzon

Street, his sword between his legs. Little Rawdon stood with his face

against the parlour window-panes, smiling and nodding with all his

might to his aunt in the carriage within; and presently Sir Pitt issued

forth from the house again, leading forth a lady with grand feathers,

covered in a white shawl, and holding up daintily a train of

magnificent brocade. She stepped into the vehicle as if she were a

princess and accustomed all her life to go to Court, smiling graciously

on the footman at the door and on Sir Pitt, who followed her into the

carriage.

Then Rawdon followed in his old Guards' uniform, which had grown

woefully shabby, and was much too tight. He was to have followed the

procession and waited upon his sovereign in a cab, but that his

good-natured sister-in-law insisted that they should be a family party.

The coach was large, the ladies not very big, they would hold their

trains in their laps--finally, the four went fraternally together, and

their carriage presently joined the line of royal equipages which was

making its way down Piccadilly and St. James's Street, towards the old

brick palace where the Star of Brunswick was in waiting to receive his

nobles and gentlefolks.

Becky felt as if she could bless the people out of the carriage

windows, so elated was she in spirit, and so strong a sense had she of

the dignified position which she had at last attained in life. Even our

Becky had her weaknesses, and as one often sees how men pride

themselves upon excellences which others are slow to perceive: how, for

instance, Comus firmly believes that he is the greatest tragic actor in

England; how Brown, the famous novelist, longs to be considered, not a

man of genius, but a man of fashion; while Robinson, the great lawyer,

does not in the least care about his reputation in Westminster Hall,

but believes himself incomparable across country and at a five-barred

gate--so to be, and to be thought, a respectable woman was Becky's aim

in life, and she got up the genteel with amazing assiduity, readiness,

and success. We have said, there were times when she believed herself

to be a fine lady and forgot that there was no money in the chest at

home--duns round the gate, tradesmen to coax and wheedle--no ground to

walk upon, in a word. And as she went to Court in the carriage, the

family carriage, she adopted a demeanour so grand, self-satisfied,

deliberate, and imposing that it made even Lady Jane laugh. She walked

into the royal apartments with a toss of the head which would have

befitted an empress, and I have no doubt had she been one, she would

have become the character perfectly.




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