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 Ultra-liberal 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; look at the Huddlestons, who have been here since Henry II; look

at poor Bute at the parsonage--is any one of them equal to you in

intelligence or breeding? Equal to you--they are not even equal to poor

dear Briggs, my companion, or Bowls, my butler. You, my love, are a

little paragon--positively a little jewel--You have more brains than

half the shire--if merit had its reward you ought to be a Duchess--no,

there ought to be no duchesses at all--but you ought to have no

superior, and I consider you, my love, as my equal in every respect;

and--will you put some coals on the fire, my dear; and will you pick

this dress of mine, and alter it, you who can do it so well?" So this

old philanthropist used to make her equal run of her errands, execute

her millinery, and read her to sleep with French novels, every night.

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 the 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.

"That was the most beautiful part of dear Lord Nelson's character,"

Miss Crawley said. "He went to the deuce for a woman. There must be

good in a man who will do that. I adore all impudent matches.-- What

I like best, is for a nobleman to marry a miller's daughter, as Lord

Flowerdale did--it makes all the women so angry--I wish some great man

would run away with you, my dear; I'm sure you're pretty enough."




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