After a lively chat with this lady (who sat on the edge of the
breakfast table in an easy attitude displaying the drapery of her
stocking and an ex-white satin shoe, which was down at heel), Colonel
Crawley called for pens and ink, and paper, and being asked how many
sheets, chose one which was brought to him between Miss Moss's own
finger and thumb. Many a sheet had that dark-eyed damsel brought in;
many a poor fellow had scrawled and blotted hurried lines of entreaty
and paced up and down that awful room until his messenger brought back
the reply. Poor men always use messengers instead of the post. Who
has not had their letters, with the wafers wet, and the announcement
that a person is waiting in the hall?
Now on the score of his application, Rawdon had not many misgivings.
DEAR BECKY, (Rawdon wrote) I HOPE YOU SLEPT WELL. Don't be FRIGHTENED if I don't bring you in
your COFFY. Last night as I was coming home smoaking, I met with an
ACCADENT. I was NABBED by Moss of Cursitor Street--from whose GILT AND
SPLENDID PARLER I write this--the same that had me this time two years.
Miss Moss brought in my tea--she is grown very FAT, and, as usual, had
her STOCKENS DOWN AT HEAL.
It's Nathan's business--a hundred-and-fifty--with costs,
hundred-and-seventy. Please send me my desk and some CLOTHS--I'm in
pumps and a white tye (something like Miss M's stockings)--I've seventy
in it. And as soon as you get this, Drive to Nathan's--offer him
seventy-five down, and ASK HIM TO RENEW--say I'll take wine--we may as
well have some dinner sherry; but not PICTURS, they're too dear.
If he won't stand it. Take my ticker and such of your things as you
can SPARE, and send them to Balls--we must, of coarse, have the sum
to-night. It won't do to let it stand over, as to-morrow's Sunday; the
beds here are not very CLEAN, and there may be other things out against
me--I'm glad it an't Rawdon's Saturday for coming home. God bless you.
Yours in haste, R. C. P.S. Make haste and come.
This letter, sealed with a wafer, was dispatched by one of the
messengers who are always hanging about Mr. Moss's establishment, and
Rawdon, having seen him depart, went out in the court-yard and smoked
his cigar with a tolerably easy mind--in spite of the bars
overhead--for Mr. Moss's court-yard is railed in like a cage, lest the
gentlemen who are boarding with him should take a fancy to escape from
his hospitality.
Three hours, he calculated, would be the utmost time required, before
Becky should arrive and open his prison doors, and he passed these
pretty cheerfully in smoking, in reading the paper, and in the
coffee-room with an acquaintance, Captain Walker, who happened to be
there, and with whom he cut for sixpences for some hours, with pretty
equal luck on either side.