away, we must remember that there were some other old
friends of ours at Brighton; Miss Crawley, namely, and
the suite in attendance upon her. Now, although Rebecca
and her husband were but at a few stones' throw of the
lodgings which the invalid Miss Crawley occupied, the
old lady's door remained as pitilessly closed to them as it
had been heretofore in London. As long as she remained
by the side of her sister-in-law, Mrs. Bute Crawley took
care that her beloved Matilda should not be agitated by a
meeting with her nephew. When the spinster took her
drive, the faithful Mrs. Bute sate beside her in the carriage.
When Miss Crawley took the air in a chair, Mrs.
Bute marched on one side of the vehicle, whilst honest
Briggs occupied the other wing. And if they met Rawdon
and his wife by chance--although the former constantly
and obsequiously took off his hat, the Miss-Crawley party
passed him by with such a frigid and killing indifference,
that Rawdon began to despair.
"We might as well be in London as here," Captain
Rawdon often said, with a downcast air.
"A comfortable inn in Brighton is better than a
spunging-house in Chancery Lane," his wife answered, who was
of a more cheerful temperament. "Think of those two
aides-de-camp of Mr. Moses, the sheriff's-officer, who
watched our lodging for a week. Our friends here are
very stupid, but Mr. Jos and Captain Cupid are better
companions than Mr. Moses's men, Rawdon, my love."
"I wonder the writs haven't followed me down here,"
Rawdon continued, still desponding.
"When they do, we'll find means to give them the slip,"
said dauntless little Becky, and further pointed out to her
husband the great comfort and advantage of meeting
Jos and Osborne, whose acquaintance had brought to
Rawdon Crawley a most timely little supply of ready
money.
"It will hardly be enough to pay the inn bill," grumbled
the Guardsman.
"Why need we pay it?" said the lady, who had an answer
for everything.
Through Rawdon's valet, who still kept up a trifling
acquaintance with the male inhabitants of Miss Crawley's
servants' hall, and was instructed to treat the coachman
to drink whenever they met, old Miss Crawley's movements
were pretty well known by our young couple; and
Rebecca luckily bethought herself of being unwell, and of
calling in the same apothecary who was in attendance
upon the spinster, so that their information was on the
whole tolerably complete. Nor was Miss Briggs, although
forced to adopt a hostile attitude, secretly inimical to
Rawdon and his wife. She was naturally of a kindly and
forgiving disposition. Now that the cause of jealousy was
removed, her dislike for Rebecca disappeared also, and
she remembered the latter's invariable good words
and good humour. And, indeed, she and Mrs.
Firkin, the lady's-maid, and the whole of Miss Crawley's
household, groaned under the tyranny of the
triumphant Mrs. Bute.
As often will be the case, that good but imperious
woman pushed her advantages too far, and her successes
quite unmercifully. She had in the course of a few weeks
brought the invalid to such a state of helpless docility,
that the poor soul yielded herself entirely to her sister's
orders, and did not even dare to complain of her slavery
to Briggs or Firkin. Mrs. Bute measured out the glasses
of wine which Miss Crawley was daily allowed to take,
with irresistible accuracy, greatly to the annoyance of
Firkin and the butler, who found themselves deprived of
control over even the sherry-bottle. She apportioned the
sweetbreads, jellies, chickens; their quantity and order.
Night and noon and morning she brought the abominable
drinks ordained by the Doctor, and made her patient
swallow them with so affecting an obedience that Firkin
said "my poor Missus du take her physic like a lamb." She
prescribed the drive in the carriage or the ride in the
chair, and, in a word, ground down the old lady in her
convalescence in such a way as only belongs to your
proper-managing, motherly moral woman. If ever the
patient faintly resisted, and pleaded for a little bit more
dinner or a little drop less medicine, the nurse threatened
her with instantaneous death, when Miss Crawley
instantly gave in. "She's no spirit left in her," Firkin
remarked to Briggs; "she ain't ave called me a fool these
three weeks." Finally, Mrs. Bute had made up her mind
to dismiss the aforesaid honest lady's-maid, Mr. Bowls
the large confidential man, and Briggs herself, and to
send for her daughters from the Rectory, previous to
removing the dear invalid bodily to Queen's Crawley, when
an odious accident happened which called her away from
duties so pleasing. The Reverend Bute Crawley, her
husband, riding home one night, fell with his horse and
broke his collar-bone. Fever and inflammatory symptoms
set in, and Mrs. Bute was forced to leave Sussex for
Hampshire. As soon as ever Bute was restored, she
promised to return to her dearest friend, and departed,
leaving the strongest injunctions with the household
regarding their behaviour to their mistress; and as soon as
she got into the Southampton coach, there was such a
jubilee and sense of relief in all Miss Crawley's house,
as the company of persons assembled there had not
experienced for many a week before. That very day Miss
Crawley left off her afternoon dose of medicine: that
afternoon Bowls opened an independent bottle of sherry
for himself and Mrs. Firkin: that night Miss Crawley
and Miss Briggs indulged in a game of piquet instead
of one of Porteus's sermons. It was as in the old nursery-
story, when the stick forgot to beat the dog, and the
whole course of events underwent a peaceful and happy
revolution.
At a very early hour in the morning, twice or thrice a
week, Miss Briggs used to betake herself to a bathing-
machine, and disport in the water in a flannel gown and
an oilskin cap. Rebecca, as we have seen, was aware of
this circumstance, and though she did not attempt to
storm Briggs as she had threatened, and actually dive
into that lady's presence and surprise her under the
sacredness of the awning, Mrs. Rawdon determined to
attack Briggs as she came away from her bath, refreshed
and invigorated by her dip, and likely to be in good
humour.
So getting up very early the next morning, Becky
brought the telescope in their sitting-room, which faced
the sea, to bear upon the bathing-machines on the beach;
saw Briggs arrive, enter her box; and put out to sea;
and was on the shore just as the nymph of whom she
came in quest stepped out of the little caravan on to the
shingles. It was a pretty picture: the beach; the bathing-
women's faces; the long line of rocks and building were
blushing and bright in the sunshine. Rebecca wore a kind,
tender smile on her face, and was holding out her pretty
white hand as Briggs emerged from the box. What could
Briggs do but accept the salutation?
"Miss Sh--Mrs. Crawley," she said.
Mrs. Crawley seized her hand, pressed it to her heart,
and with a sudden impulse, flinging her arms round
Briggs, kissed her affectionately. "Dear, dear friend!" she
said, with a touch of such natural feeling, that Miss
Briggs of course at once began to melt, and even the
bathing-woman was mollified.
Rebecca found no difficulty in engaging Briggs in a long,
intimate, and delightful conversation. Everything that had
passed since the morning of Becky's sudden departure
from Miss Crawley's house in Park Lane up to the present
day, and Mrs. Bute's happy retreat, was discussed and
described by Briggs. All Miss Crawley's symptoms, and
the particulars of her illness and medical treatment, were
narrated by the confidante with that fulness and
accuracy which women delight in. About their complaints
and their doctors do ladies ever tire of talking to each
other? Briggs did not on this occasion; nor did Rebecca
weary of listening. She was thankful, truly thankful, that
the dear kind Briggs, that the faithful, the invaluable
Firkin, had been permitted to remain with their benefactress
through her illness. Heaven bless her! though she,
Rebecca, had seemed to act undutifully towards Miss
Crawley; yet was not her fault a natural and excusable one?
Could she help giving her hand to the man who had won
her heart? Briggs, the sentimental, could only turn up
her eyes to heaven at this appeal, and heave a
sympathetic sigh, and think that she, too, had given
away her affections long years ago, and own that Rebecca
was no very great criminal.
"Can I ever forget her who so befriended the friendless
orphan? No, though she has cast me off," the latter
said, "I shall never cease to love her, and I would devote
my life to her service. As my own benefactress, as my
beloved Rawdon's adored relative, I love and admire Miss
Crawley, dear Miss Briggs, beyond any woman in the
world, and next to her I love all those who are faithful
to her. I would never have treated Miss Crawley's
faithful friends as that odious designing Mrs. Bute has
done. Rawdon, who was all heart," Rebecca continued,
"although his outward manners might seem rough and
careless, had said a hundred times, with tears in his eyes,
that he blessed Heaven for sending his dearest Aunty two
such admirable nurses as her attached Firkin and her
admirable Miss Briggs. Should the machinations of the
horrible Mrs. Bute end, as she too much feared they would,
in banishing everybody that Miss Crawley loved from her
side, and leaving that poor lady a victim to those harpies
at the Rectory, Rebecca besought her (Miss Briggs) to
remember that her own home, humble as it was, was
always open to receive Briggs. Dear friend," she
exclaimed, in a transport of enthusiasm, "some hearts
can never forget benefits; all women are not Bute
Crawleys! Though why should I complain of her," Rebecca
added; "though I have been her tool and the victim to her
arts, do I not owe my dearest Rawdon to her?" And
Rebecca unfolded to Briggs all Mrs. Bute's conduct at
Queen's Crawley, which, though unintelligible to her then,
was clearly enough explained by the events now--now
that the attachment had sprung up which Mrs. Bute had
encouraged by a thousand artifices--now that two
innocent people had fallen into the snares which she had
laid for them, and loved and married and been ruined
through her schemes.
It was all very true. Briggs saw the stratagems as
clearly as possible. Mrs. Bute had made the match
between Rawdon and Rebecca. Yet, though the latter was a
perfectly innocent victim, Miss Briggs could not disguise
from her friend her fear that Miss Crawley's affections
were hopelessly estranged from Rebecca, and that the old
lady would never forgive her nephew for making so
imprudent a marriage.
On this point Rebecca had her own opinion, and
still kept up a good heart. If Miss Crawley did not
forgive them at present, she might at least relent on a
future day. Even now, there was only that puling, sickly
Pitt Crawley between Rawdon and a baronetcy; and should
anything happen to the former, all would be well. At all
events, to have Mrs. Bute's designs exposed, and herself
well abused, was a satisfaction, and might be advantageous
to Rawdon's interest; and Rebecca, after an hour's
chat with her recovered friend, left her with the most
tender demonstrations of regard, and quite assured that
the conversation they had had together would be
reported to Miss Crawley before many hours were over.
This interview ended, it became full time for Rebecca
to return to her inn, where all the party of the previous
day were assembled at a farewell breakfast. Rebecca took
such a tender leave of Amelia as became two women who
loved each other as sisters; and having used her handkerchief
plentifully, and hung on her friend's neck as if they
were parting for ever, and waved the handkerchief
(which was quite dry, by the way) out of window, as the
carriage drove off, she came back to the breakfast table,
and ate some prawns with a good deal of appetite,
considering her emotion; and while she was munching these
delicacies, explained to Rawdon what had occurred in her
morning walk between herself and Briggs. Her hopes
were very high: she made her husband share them. She
generally succeeded in making her husband share all her
opinions, whether melancholy or cheerful.
"You will now, if you please, my dear, sit down at the
writing-table and pen me a pretty little letter to Miss
Crawley, in which you'll say that you are a good boy,
and that sort of thing." So Rawdon sate down, and wrote
off, "Brighton, Thursday," and "My dear Aunt," with
great rapidity: but there the gallant officer's imagination
failed him. He mumbled the end of his pen, and looked
up in his wife's face. She could not help laughing at his
rueful countenance, and marching up and down the room
with her hands behind her, the little woman began to
dictate a letter, which he took down.
"Before quitting the country and commencing a campaign,
which very possibly may be fatal."
"What?" said Rawdon, rather surprised, but took the
humour of the phrase, and presently wrote it down with
a grin.
"Which very possibly may be fatal, I have come
hither--"
"Why not say come here, Becky? Come here's grammar,"
the dragoon interposed.
"I have come hither," Rebecca insisted, with a stamp
of her foot, "to say farewell to my dearest and earliest
friend. I beseech you before I go, not perhaps to
return, once more to let me press the hand from which
