The amiable behaviour of Mr. Crawley, and Lady Jane's kind reception ofher, highly flattered Miss Briggs, who was enabled to speak a good wordfor the latter, after the cards of the Southdown family had beenpresented to Miss Crawley. A Countess's card left personally too forher, Briggs, was not a little pleasing to the poor friendlesscompanion. "What could Lady Southdown mean by leaving a card upon you,I wonder, Miss Briggs?" said the republican Miss Crawley; upon whichthe companion meekly said "that she hoped there could be no harm in alady of rank taking notice of a poor gentlewoman," and she put awaythis card in her work-box amongst her most cherished personaltreasures. Furthermore, Miss Briggs explained how she had met Mr.Crawley walking with his cousin and long affianced bride the daybefore: and she told how kind and gentle-looking the lady was, andwhat a plain, not to say common, dress she had, all the articles ofwhich, from the bonnet down to the boots, she described and estimatedwith female accuracy.

Miss Crawley allowed Briggs to prattle on without interrupting her toomuch. As she got well, she was pining for society. Mr. Creamer, hermedical man, would not hear of her returning to her old haunts anddissipation in London. The old spinster was too glad to find anycompanionship at Brighton, and not only were the cards acknowledged thevery next day, but Pitt Crawley was graciously invited to come and seehis aunt. He came, bringing with him Lady Southdown and her daughter.The dowager did not say a word about the state of Miss Crawley's soul;but talked with much discretion about the weather: about the war andthe downfall of the monster Bonaparte: and above all, about doctors,quacks, and the particular merits of Dr. Podgers, whom she thenpatronised.

During their interview Pitt Crawley made a great stroke, and one whichshowed that, had his diplomatic career not been blighted by earlyneglect, he might have risen to a high rank in his profession. When theCountess Dowager of Southdown fell foul of the Corsican upstart, as thefashion was in those days, and showed that he was a monster stainedwith every conceivable crime, a coward and a tyrant not fit to live,one whose fall was predicted, &c., Pitt Crawley suddenly took up thecudgels in favour of the man of Destiny. He described the First Consulas he saw him at Paris at the peace of Amiens; when he, Pitt Crawley,had the gratification of making the acquaintance of the great and goodMr. Fox, a statesman whom, however much he might differ with him, itwas impossible not to admire fervently--a statesman who had always hadthe highest opinion of the Emperor Napoleon. And he spoke in terms ofthe strongest indignation of the faithless conduct of the alliestowards this dethroned monarch, who, after giving himself generously upto their mercy, was consigned to an ignoble and cruel banishment, whilea bigoted Popish rabble was tyrannising over France in his stead.

This orthodox horror of Romish superstition saved Pitt Crawley in LadySouthdown's opinion, whilst his admiration for Fox and Napoleon raisedhim immeasurably in Miss Crawley's eyes. Her friendship with thatdefunct British statesman was mentioned when we first introduced her inthis history. A true Whig, Miss Crawley had been in opposition allthrough the war, and though, to be sure, the downfall of the Emperordid not very much agitate the old lady, or his ill-treatment tend toshorten her life or natural rest, yet Pitt spoke to her heart when helauded both her idols; and by that single speech made immense progressin her favour.

"And what do you think, my dear?" Miss Crawley said to the young lady,for whom she had taken a liking at first sight, as she always did forpretty and modest young people; though it must be owned her affectionscooled as rapidly as they rose.

Lady Jane blushed very much, and said "that she did not understandpolitics, which she left to wiser heads than hers; but though Mammawas, no doubt, correct, Mr. Crawley had spoken beautifully." And whenthe ladies were retiring at the conclusion of their visit, Miss Crawleyhoped "Lady Southdown would be so kind as to send her Lady Janesometimes, if she could be spared to come down and console a poor sicklonely old woman." This promise was graciously accorded, and theyseparated upon great terms of amity.

"Don't let Lady Southdown come again, Pitt," said the old lady. "She isstupid and pompous, like all your mother's family, whom I never couldendure. But bring that nice good-natured little Jane as often as everyou please." Pitt promised that he would do so. He did not tell theCountess of Southdown what opinion his aunt had formed of her Ladyship,who, on the contrary, thought that she had made a most delightful andmajestic impression on Miss Crawley.

And so, nothing loth to comfort a sick lady, and perhaps not sorry inher heart to be freed now and again from the dreary spouting of theReverend Bartholomew Irons, and the serious toadies who gathered roundthe footstool of the pompous Countess, her mamma, Lady Jane became apretty constant visitor to Miss Crawley, accompanied her in her drives,and solaced many of her evenings. She was so naturally good and soft,that even Firkin was not jealous of her; and the gentle Briggs thoughther friend was less cruel to her when kind Lady Jane was by. Towardsher Ladyship Miss Crawley's manners were charming. The old spinstertold her a thousand anecdotes about her youth, talking to her in a verydifferent strain from that in which she had been accustomed to conversewith the godless little Rebecca; for there was that in Lady Jane'sinnocence which rendered light talking impertinence before her, andMiss Crawley was too much of a gentlewoman to offend such purity. Theyoung lady herself had never received kindness except from this oldspinster, and her brother and father: and she repaid Miss Crawley'sengoument by artless sweetness and friendship.

In the autumn evenings (when Rebecca was flaunting at Paris, the gayestamong the gay conquerors there, and our Amelia, our dear woundedAmelia, ah! where was she?) Lady Jane would be sitting in MissCrawley's drawing-room singing sweetly to her, in the twilight, herlittle simple songs and hymns, while the sun was setting and the seawas roaring on the beach. The old spinster used to wake up when theseditties ceased, and ask for more. As for Briggs, and the quantity oftears of happiness which she now shed as she pretended to knit, andlooked out at the splendid ocean darkling before the windows, and thelamps of heaven beginning more brightly to shine--who, I say canmeasure the happiness and sensibility of Briggs?

Pitt meanwhile in the dining-room, with a pamphlet on the Corn Laws ora Missionary Register by his side, took that kind of recreation whichsuits romantic and unromantic men after dinner. He sipped Madeira:built castles in the air: thought himself a fine fellow: felt himselfmuch more in love with Jane than he had been any time these sevenyears, during which their liaison had lasted without the slightestimpatience on Pitt's part--and slept a good deal. When the time forcoffee came, Mr. Bowls used to enter in a noisy manner, and summonSquire Pitt, who would be found in the dark very busy with his pamphlet.

"I wish, my love, I could get somebody to play piquet with me," MissCrawley said one night when this functionary made his appearance withthe candles and the coffee. "Poor Briggs can no more play than an owl,she is so stupid" (the spinster always took an opportunity of abusingBriggs before the servants); "and I think I should sleep better if Ihad my game."

At this Lady Jane blushed to the tips of her little ears, and down tothe ends of her pretty fingers; and when Mr. Bowls had quitted theroom, and the door was quite shut, she said:

"Miss Crawley, I can play a little. I used to--to play a little withpoor dear papa."

"Come and kiss me. Come and kiss me this instant, you dear good littlesoul," cried Miss Crawley in an ecstasy: and in this picturesque andfriendly occupation Mr. Pitt found the old lady and the young one, whenhe came upstairs with him pamphlet in his hand. How she did blush allthe evening, that poor Lady Jane!

It must not be imagined that Mr. Pitt Crawley's artifices escaped theattention of his dear relations at the Rectory at Queen's Crawley.Hampshire and Sussex lie very close together, and Mrs. Bute had friendsin the latter county who took care to inform her of all, and a greatdeal more than all, that passed at Miss Crawley's house at Brighton.Pitt was there more and more. He did not come for months together tothe Hall, where his abominable old father abandoned himself completelyto rum-and-water, and the odious society of the Horrocks family. Pitt'ssuccess rendered the Rector's family furious, and Mrs. Bute regrettedmore (though she confessed less) than ever her monstrous fault in soinsulting Miss Briggs, and in being so haughty and parsimonious toBowls and Firkin, that she had not a single person left in MissCrawley's household to give her information of what took place there."It was all Bute's collar-bone," she persisted in saying; "if that hadnot broke, I never would have left her. I am a martyr to duty and toyour odious unclerical habit of hunting, Bute."

"Hunting; nonsense! It was you that frightened her, Barbara," thedivine interposed. "You're a clever woman, but you've got a devil of atemper; and you're a screw with your money, Barbara."

"You'd have been screwed in gaol, Bute, if I had not kept your money."

"I know I would, my dear," said the Rector, good-naturedly. "You ARE aclever woman, but you manage too well, you know": and the pious manconsoled himself with a big glass of port.

"What the deuce can she find in that spooney of a Pitt Crawley?" hecontinued. "The fellow has not pluck enough to say Bo to a goose. Iremember when Rawdon, who is a man, and be hanged to him, used to floghim round the stables as if he was a whipping-top: and Pitt would gohowling home to his ma--ha, ha! Why, either of my boys would whop himwith one hand. Jim says he's remembered at Oxford as Miss Crawleystill--the spooney.

"I say, Barbara," his reverence continued, after a pause.

"What?" said Barbara, who was biting her nails, and drumming the table.

"I say, why not send Jim over to Brighton to see if he can do anythingwith the old lady. He's very near getting his degree, you know. He'sonly been plucked twice--so was I--but he's had the advantages ofOxford and a university education. He knows some of the best chapsthere. He pulls stroke in the Boniface boat. He's a handsome feller.D---- it, ma'am, let's put him on the old woman, hey, and tell him tothrash Pitt if he says anything. Ha, ha, ha!

"Jim might go down and see her, certainly," the housewife said; addingwith a sigh, "If we could but get one of the girls into the house; butshe could never endure them, because they are not pretty!" Thoseunfortunate and well-educated women made themselves heard from theneighbouring drawing-room, where they were thrumming away, with hardfingers, an elaborate music-piece on the piano-forte, as their motherspoke; and indeed, they were at music, or at backboard, or atgeography, or at history, the whole day long. But what avail all theseaccomplishments, in Vanity Fair, to girls who are short, poor, plain,and have a bad complexion? Mrs. Bute could think of nobody but theCurate to take one of them off her hands; and Jim coming in from thestable at this minute, through the parlour window, with a short pipestuck in his oilskin cap, he and his father fell to talking about oddson the St. Leger, and the colloquy between the Rector and his wifeended.

Mrs. Bute did not augur much good to the cause from the sending of herson James as an ambassador, and saw him depart in rather a despairingmood. Nor did the young fellow himself, when told what his mission wasto be, expect much pleasure or benefit from it; but he was consoled bythe thought that possibly the old lady would give him some handsomeremembrance of her, which would pay a few of his most pressing bills atthe commencement of the ensuing Oxford term, and so took his place bythe coach from Southampton, and was safely landed at Brighton on thesame evening? with his portmanteau, his favourite bull-dog Towzer, andan immense basket of farm and garden produce, from the dear Rectoryfolks to the dear Miss Crawley. Considering it was too late to disturbthe invalid lady on the first night of his arrival, he put up at aninn, and did not wait upon Miss Crawley until a late hour in the noonof next day.

James Crawley, when his aunt had last beheld him, was a gawky lad, atthat uncomfortable age when the voice varies between an unearthlytreble and a preternatural bass; when the face not uncommonly bloomsout with appearances for which Rowland's Kalydor is said to act as acure; when boys are seen to shave furtively with their sister'sscissors, and the sight of other young women produces intolerablesensations of terror in them; when the great hands and ankles protrudea long way from garments which have grown too tight for them; whentheir presence after dinner is at once frightful to the ladies, who arewhispering in the twilight in the drawing-room, and inexpressiblyodious to the gentlemen over the mahogany, who are restrained fromfreedom of intercourse and delightful interchange of wit by thepresence of that gawky innocence; when, at the conclusion of the secondglass, papa says, "Jack, my boy, go out and see if the evening holdsup," and the youth, willing to be free, yet hurt at not being yet aman, quits the incomplete banquet. James, then a hobbadehoy, was nowbecome a young man, having had the benefits of a university education,and acquired the inestimable polish which is gained by living in a fastset at a small college, and contracting debts, and being rusticated,and being plucked.

He was a handsome lad, however, when he came to present himself to hisaunt at Brighton, and good looks were always a title to the fickle oldlady's favour. Nor did his blushes and awkwardness take away from it:she was pleased with these healthy tokens of the young gentleman'singenuousness.

He said "he had come down for a couple of days to see a man of hiscollege, and--and to pay my respects to you, Ma'am, and my father's andmother's, who hope you are well."

Pitt was in the room with Miss Crawley when the lad was announced, andlooked very blank when his name was mentioned. The old lady had plentyof humour, and enjoyed her correct nephew's perplexity. She askedafter all the people at the Rectory with great interest; and said shewas thinking of paying them a visit. She praised the lad to his face,and said he was well-grown and very much improved, and that it was apity his sisters had not some of his good looks; and finding, oninquiry, that he had taken up his quarters at an hotel, would not hearof his stopping there, but bade Mr. Bowls send for Mr. James Crawley'sthings instantly; "and hark ye, Bowls," she added, with greatgraciousness, "you will have the goodness to pay Mr. James's bill."

She flung Pitt a look of arch triumph, which caused that diplomatistalmost to choke with envy. Much as he had ingratiated himself with hisaunt, she had never yet invited him to stay under her roof, and herewas a young whipper-snapper, who at first sight was made welcome there.

"I beg your pardon, sir," says Bowls, advancing with a profound bow;"what 'otel, sir, shall Thomas fetch the luggage from?"

"O, dam," said young James, starting up, as if in some alarm, "I'll go."

"What!" said Miss Crawley.

"The Tom Cribb's Arms," said James, blushing deeply.

Miss Crawley burst out laughing at this title. Mr. Bowls gave oneabrupt guffaw, as a confidential servant of the family, but choked therest of the volley; the diplomatist only smiled.

"I--I didn't know any better," said James, looking down. "I've neverbeen here before; it was the coachman told me." The young story-teller!The fact is, that on the Southampton coach, the day previous,James Crawley had met the Tutbury Pet, who was coming to Brighton tomake a match with the Rottingdean Fibber; and enchanted by the Pet'sconversation, had passed the evening in company with that scientificman and his friends, at the inn in question.

"I--I'd best go and settle the score," James continued. "Couldn't thinkof asking you, Ma'am," he added, generously.

This delicacy made his aunt laugh the more.

"Go and settle the bill, Bowls," she said, with a wave of her hand,"and bring it to me."

Poor lady, she did not know what she had done! "There--there's alittle dawg," said James, looking frightfully guilty. "I'd best go forhim. He bites footmen's calves."

All the party cried out with laughing at this description; even Briggsand Lady Jane, who was sitting mute during the interview between MissCrawley and her nephew: and Bowls, without a word, quitted the room.

Still, by way of punishing her elder nephew, Miss Crawley persisted inbeing gracious to the young Oxonian. There were no limits to herkindness or her compliments when they once began. She told Pitt hemight come to dinner, and insisted that James should accompany her inher drive, and paraded him solemnly up and down the cliff, on the backseat of the barouche. During all this excursion, she condescended tosay civil things to him: she quoted Italian and French poetry to thepoor bewildered lad, and persisted that he was a fine scholar, and wasperfectly sure he would gain a gold medal, and be a Senior Wrangler.

"Haw, haw," laughed James, encouraged by these compliments; "SeniorWrangler, indeed; that's at the other shop."

"What is the other shop, my dear child?" said the lady.

"Senior Wranglers at Cambridge, not Oxford," said the scholar, with aknowing air; and would probably have been more confidential, but thatsuddenly there appeared on the cliff in a tax-cart, drawn by a bang-uppony, dressed in white flannel coats, with mother-of-pearl buttons, hisfriends the Tutbury Pet and the Rottingdean Fibber, with three othergentlemen of their acquaintance, who all saluted poor James there inthe carriage as he sate. This incident damped the ingenuous youth'sspirits, and no word of yea or nay could he be induced to utter duringthe rest of the drive.

On his return he found his room prepared, and his portmanteau ready,and might have remarked that Mr. Bowls's countenance, when the latterconducted him to his apartments, wore a look of gravity, wonder, andcompassion. But the thought of Mr. Bowls did not enter his head. Hewas deploring the dreadful predicament in which he found himself, in ahouse full of old women, jabbering French and Italian, and talkingpoetry to him. "Reglarly up a tree, by jingo!" exclaimed the modestboy, who could not face the gentlest of her sex--not even Briggs--whenshe began to talk to him; whereas, put him at Iffley Lock, and he couldout-slang the boldest bargeman.

At dinner, James appeared choking in a white neckcloth, and had thehonour of handing my Lady Jane downstairs, while Briggs and Mr. Crawleyfollowed afterwards, conducting the old lady, with her apparatus ofbundles, and shawls, and cushions. Half of Briggs's time at dinner wasspent in superintending the invalid's comfort, and in cutting upchicken for her fat spaniel. James did not talk much, but he made apoint of asking all the ladies to drink wine, and accepted Mr.Crawley's challenge, and consumed the greater part of a bottle ofchampagne which Mr. Bowls was ordered to produce in his honour. Theladies having withdrawn, and the two cousins being left together, Pitt,the ex-diplomatist, he came very communicative and friendly. He askedafter James's career at college--what his prospects in life were--hopedheartily he would get on; and, in a word, was frank and amiable.James's tongue unloosed with the port, and he told his cousin his life,his prospects, his debts, his troubles at the little-go, and his rowswith the proctors, filling rapidly from the bottles before him, andflying from Port to Madeira with joyous activity.

"The chief pleasure which my aunt has," said Mr. Crawley, filling hisglass, "is that people should do as they like in her house. This isLiberty Hall, James, and you can't do Miss Crawley a greater kindnessthan to do as you please, and ask for what you will. I know you haveall sneered at me in the country for being a Tory. Miss Crawley isliberal enough to suit any fancy. She is a Republican in principle,and despises everything like rank or title."

"Why are you going to marry an Earl's daughter?" said James.

"My dear friend, remember it is not poor Lady Jane's fault that she iswell born," Pitt replied, with a courtly air. "She cannot help being alady. Besides, I am a Tory, you know."

"Oh, as for that," said Jim, "there's nothing like old blood; no,dammy, nothing like it. I'm none of your radicals. I know what it isto be a gentleman, dammy. See the chaps in a boat-race; look at thefellers in a fight; aye, look at a dawg killing rats--which is it wins?the good-blooded ones. Get some more port, Bowls, old boy, whilst Ibuzz this bottle-here. What was I asaying?"

"I think you were speaking of dogs killing rats," Pitt remarked mildly,handing his cousin the decanter to "buzz."

"Killing rats was I? Well, Pitt, are you a sporting man? Do you want tosee a dawg as CAN kill a rat? If you do, come down with me to TomCorduroy's, in Castle Street Mews, and I'll show you such a bull-terrieras--Pooh! gammon," cried James, bursting out laughing at hisown absurdity--"YOU don't care about a dawg or rat; it's all nonsense.I'm blest if I think you know the difference between a dog and a duck."

"No; by the way," Pitt continued with increased blandness, "it wasabout blood you were talking, and the personal advantages which peoplederive from patrician birth. Here's the fresh bottle."

"Blood's the word," said James, gulping the ruby fluid down. "Nothinglike blood, sir, in hosses, dawgs, AND men. Why, only last term, justbefore I was rusticated, that is, I mean just before I had the measles,ha, ha--there was me and Ringwood of Christchurch, Bob Ringwood, LordCinqbars' son, having our beer at the Bell at Blenheim, when theBanbury bargeman offered to fight either of us for a bowl of punch. Icouldn't. My arm was in a sling; couldn't even take the drag down--abrute of a mare of mine had fell with me only two days before, out withthe Abingdon, and I thought my arm was broke. Well, sir, I couldn'tfinish him, but Bob had his coat off at once--he stood up to theBanbury man for three minutes, and polished him off in four roundseasy. Gad, how he did drop, sir, and what was it? Blood, sir, allblood."

"You don't drink, James," the ex-attache continued. "In my time atOxford, the men passed round the bottle a little quicker than you youngfellows seem to do."

"Come, come," said James, putting his hand to his nose and winking athis cousin with a pair of vinous eyes, "no jokes, old boy; no trying iton on me. You want to trot me out, but it's no go. In vino veritas,old boy. Mars, Bacchus, Apollo virorum, hey? I wish my aunt would senddown some of this to the governor; it's a precious good tap."

"You had better ask her," Machiavel continued, "or make the best ofyour time now. What says the bard? 'Nunc vino pellite curas, Crasingens iterabimus aequor,'" and the Bacchanalian, quoting the abovewith a House of Commons air, tossed off nearly a thimbleful of winewith an immense flourish of his glass.

At the Rectory, when the bottle of port wine was opened after dinner,the young ladies had each a glass from a bottle of currant wine. Mrs.Bute took one glass of port, honest James had a couple commonly, but ashis father grew very sulky if he made further inroads on the bottle,the good lad generally refrained from trying for more, and subsidedeither into the currant wine, or to some private gin-and-water in thestables, which he enjoyed in the company of the coachman and his pipe.At Oxford, the quantity of wine was unlimited, but the quality wasinferior: but when quantity and quality united as at his aunt's house,James showed that he could appreciate them indeed; and hardly neededany of his cousin's encouragement in draining off the second bottlesupplied by Mr. Bowls.

When the time for coffee came, however, and for a return to the ladies,of whom he stood in awe, the young gentleman's agreeable frankness lefthim, and he relapsed into his usual surly timidity; contenting himselfby saying yes and no, by scowling at Lady Jane, and by upsetting onecup of coffee during the evening.

If he did not speak he yawned in a pitiable manner, and his presencethrew a damp upon the modest proceedings of the evening, for MissCrawley and Lady Jane at their piquet, and Miss Briggs at her work,felt that his eyes were wildly fixed on them, and were uneasy underthat maudlin look.

"He seems a very silent, awkward, bashful lad," said Miss Crawley toMr. Pitt.

"He is more communicative in men's society than with ladies," Machiaveldryly replied: perhaps rather disappointed that the port wine had notmade Jim speak more.

He had spent the early part of the next morning in writing home to hismother a most flourishing account of his reception by Miss Crawley.But ah! he little knew what evils the day was bringing for him, and howshort his reign of favour was destined to be. A circumstance which Jimhad forgotten--a trivial but fatal circumstance--had taken place at theCribb's Arms on the night before he had come to his aunt's house. Itwas no other than this--Jim, who was always of a generous disposition,and when in his cups especially hospitable, had in the course of thenight treated the Tutbury champion and the Rottingdean man, and theirfriends, twice or thrice to the refreshment of gin-and-water--so thatno less than eighteen glasses of that fluid at eightpence per glasswere charged in Mr. James Crawley's bill. It was not the amount ofeightpences, but the quantity of gin which told fatally against poorJames's character, when his aunt's butler, Mr. Bowls, went down at hismistress's request to pay the young gentleman's bill. The landlord,fearing lest the account should be refused altogether, swore solemnlythat the young gent had consumed personally every farthing's worth ofthe liquor: and Bowls paid the bill finally, and showed it on hisreturn home to Mrs. Firkin, who was shocked at the frightfulprodigality of gin; and took the bill to Miss Briggs asaccountant-general; who thought it her duty to mention the circumstanceto her principal, Miss Crawley.

Had he drunk a dozen bottles of claret, the old spinster could havepardoned him. Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan drank claret. Gentlemen drankclaret. But eighteen glasses of gin consumed among boxers in anignoble pot-house--it was an odious crime and not to be pardonedreadily. Everything went against the lad: he came home perfumed fromthe stables, whither he had been to pay his dog Towzer a visit--andwhence he was going to take his friend out for an airing, when he metMiss Crawley and her wheezy Blenheim spaniel, which Towzer would haveeaten up had not the Blenheim fled squealing to the protection of MissBriggs, while the atrocious master of the bull-dog stood laughing atthe horrible persecution.

This day too the unlucky boy's modesty had likewise forsaken him. Hewas lively and facetious at dinner. During the repast he levelled oneor two jokes against Pitt Crawley: he drank as much wine as upon theprevious day; and going quite unsuspiciously to the drawing-room, beganto entertain the ladies there with some choice Oxford stories. Hedescribed the different pugilistic qualities of Molyneux and Dutch Sam,offered playfully to give Lady Jane the odds upon the Tutbury Petagainst the Rottingdean man, or take them, as her Ladyship chose: andcrowned the pleasantry by proposing to back himself against his cousinPitt Crawley, either with or without the gloves. "And that's a fairoffer, my buck," he said, with a loud laugh, slapping Pitt on theshoulder, "and my father told me to make it too, and he'll go halves inthe bet, ha, ha!" So saying, the engaging youth nodded knowingly atpoor Miss Briggs, and pointed his thumb over his shoulder at PittCrawley in a jocular and exulting manner.

Pitt was not pleased altogether perhaps, but still not unhappy in themain. Poor Jim had his laugh out: and staggered across the room withhis aunt's candle, when the old lady moved to retire, and offered tosalute her with the blandest tipsy smile: and he took his own leaveand went upstairs to his bedroom perfectly satisfied with himself, andwith a pleased notion that his aunt's money would be left to him inpreference to his father and all the rest of the family.

Once up in the bedroom, one would have thought he could not makematters worse; and yet this unlucky boy did. The moon was shining verypleasantly out on the sea, and Jim, attracted to the window by theromantic appearance of the ocean and the heavens, thought he wouldfurther enjoy them while smoking. Nobody would smell the tobacco, hethought, if he cunningly opened the window and kept his head and pipein the fresh air. This he did: but being in an excited state, poor Jimhad forgotten that his door was open all this time, so that the breezeblowing inwards and a fine thorough draught being established, theclouds of tobacco were carried downstairs, and arrived with quiteundiminished fragrance to Miss Crawley and Miss Briggs.

The pipe of tobacco finished the business: and the Bute-Crawleys neverknew how many thousand pounds it cost them. Firkin rushed downstairsto Bowls who was reading out the "Fire and the Frying Pan" to hisaide-de-camp in a loud and ghostly voice. The dreadful secret was toldto him by Firkin with so frightened a look, that for the first momentMr. Bowls and his young man thought that robbers were in the house, thelegs of whom had probably been discovered by the woman under MissCrawley's bed. When made aware of the fact, however--to rush upstairsat three steps at a time to enter the unconscious James's apartment,calling out, "Mr. James," in a voice stifled with alarm, and to cry,"For Gawd's sake, sir, stop that 'ere pipe," was the work of a minutewith Mr. Bowls. "O, Mr. James, what 'AVE you done!" he said in a voiceof the deepest pathos, as he threw the implement out of the window."What 'ave you done, sir! Missis can't abide 'em."

"Missis needn't smoke," said James with a frantic misplaced laugh, andthought the whole matter an excellent joke. But his feelings were verydifferent in the morning, when Mr. Bowls's young man, who operated uponMr. James's boots, and brought him his hot water to shave that beardwhich he was so anxiously expecting, handed a note in to Mr. James inbed, in the handwriting of Miss Briggs.

"Dear sir," it said, "Miss Crawley has passed an exceedingly disturbednight, owing to the shocking manner in which the house has beenpolluted by tobacco; Miss Crawley bids me say she regrets that she istoo unwell to see you before you go--and above all that she everinduced you to remove from the ale-house, where she is sure you will bemuch more comfortable during the rest of your stay at Brighton."

And herewith honest James's career as a candidate for his aunt's favourended. He had in fact, and without knowing it, done what he menaced todo. He had fought his cousin Pitt with the gloves.

Where meanwhile was he who had been once first favourite for this racefor money? Becky and Rawdon, as we have seen, were come together afterWaterloo, and were passing the winter of 1815 at Paris in greatsplendour and gaiety. Rebecca was a good economist, and the price poorJos Sedley had paid for her two horses was in itself sufficient to keeptheir little establishment afloat for a year, at the least; there wasno occasion to turn into money "my pistols, the same which I shotCaptain Marker," or the gold dressing-case, or the cloak lined withsable. Becky had it made into a pelisse for herself, in which she rodein the Bois de Boulogne to the admiration of all: and you should haveseen the scene between her and her delighted husband, whom she rejoinedafter the army had entered Cambray, and when she unsewed herself, andlet out of her dress all those watches, knick-knacks, bank-notes,cheques, and valuables, which she had secreted in the wadding, previousto her meditated flight from Brussels! Tufto was charmed, and Rawdonroared with delighted laughter, and swore that she was better than anyplay he ever saw, by Jove. And the way in which she jockeyed Jos, andwhich she described with infinite fun, carried up his delight to apitch of quite insane enthusiasm. He believed in his wife as much asthe French soldiers in Napoleon.

Her success in Paris was remarkable. All the French ladies voted hercharming. She spoke their language admirably. She adopted at oncetheir grace, their liveliness, their manner. Her husband was stupidcertainly--all English are stupid--and, besides, a dull husband atParis is always a point in a lady's favour. He was the heir of therich and spirituelle Miss Crawley, whose house had been open to so manyof the French noblesse during the emigration. They received thecolonel's wife in their own hotels--"Why," wrote a great lady to MissCrawley, who had bought her lace and trinkets at the Duchess's ownprice, and given her many a dinner during the pinching times after theRevolution--"Why does not our dear Miss come to her nephew and niece,and her attached friends in Paris? All the world raffoles of thecharming Mistress and her espiegle beauty. Yes, we see in her thegrace, the charm, the wit of our dear friend Miss Crawley! The Kingtook notice of her yesterday at the Tuileries, and we are all jealousof the attention which Monsieur pays her. If you could have seen thespite of a certain stupid Miladi Bareacres (whose eagle-beak and toqueand feathers may be seen peering over the heads of all assemblies) whenMadame, the Duchess of Angouleme, the august daughter and companion ofkings, desired especially to be presented to Mrs. Crawley, as your deardaughter and protegee, and thanked her in the name of France, for allyour benevolence towards our unfortunates during their exile! She is ofall the societies, of all the balls--of the balls--yes--of the dances,no; and yet how interesting and pretty this fair creature lookssurrounded by the homage of the men, and so soon to be a mother! Tohear her speak of you, her protectress, her mother, would bring tearsto the eyes of ogres. How she loves you! how we all love ouradmirable, our respectable Miss Crawley!"

It is to be feared that this letter of the Parisian great lady did notby any means advance Mrs. Becky's interest with her admirable, herrespectable, relative. On the contrary, the fury of the old spinsterwas beyond bounds, when she found what was Rebecca's situation, and howaudaciously she had made use of Miss Crawley's name, to get an entreeinto Parisian society. Too much shaken in mind and body to compose aletter in the French language in reply to that of her correspondent,she dictated to Briggs a furious answer in her own native tongue,repudiating Mrs. Rawdon Crawley altogether, and warning the public tobeware of her as a most artful and dangerous person. But as Madame theDuchess of X--had only been twenty years in England, she did notunderstand a single word of the language, and contented herself byinforming Mrs. Rawdon Crawley at their next meeting, that she hadreceived a charming letter from that chere Mees, and that it was fullof benevolent things for Mrs. Crawley, who began seriously to havehopes that the spinster would relent.

Meanwhile, she was the gayest and most admired of Englishwomen: andhad a little European congress on her reception-night. Prussians andCossacks, Spanish and English--all the world was at Paris during thisfamous winter: to have seen the stars and cordons in Rebecca's humblesaloon would have made all Baker Street pale with envy. Famous warriorsrode by her carriage in the Bois, or crowded her modest little box atthe Opera. Rawdon was in the highest spirits. There were no duns inParis as yet: there were parties every day at Very's or Beauvilliers';play was plentiful and his luck good. Tufto perhaps was sulky. Mrs.Tufto had come over to Paris at her own invitation, and besides thiscontretemps, there were a score of generals now round Becky's chair,and she might take her choice of a dozen bouquets when she went to theplay. Lady Bareacres and the chiefs of the English society, stupid andirreproachable females, writhed with anguish at the success of thelittle upstart Becky, whose poisoned jokes quivered and rankled intheir chaste breasts. But she had all the men on her side. She foughtthe women with indomitable courage, and they could not talk scandal inany tongue but their own.

So in fetes, pleasures, and prosperity, the winter of 1815-16 passedaway with Mrs. Rawdon Crawley, who accommodated herself to polite lifeas if her ancestors had been people of fashion for centuries past--andwho from her wit, talent, and energy, indeed merited a place of honourin Vanity Fair. In the early spring of 1816, Galignani's Journalcontained the following announcement in an interesting corner of thepaper: "On the 26th of March--the Lady of Lieutenant-Colonel Crawley,of the Life Guards Green--of a son and heir."

This event was copied into the London papers, out of which Miss Briggsread the statement to Miss Crawley, at breakfast, at Brighton. Theintelligence, expected as it might have been, caused a crisis in theaffairs of the Crawley family. The spinster's rage rose to its height,and sending instantly for Pitt, her nephew, and for the Lady Southdown,from Brunswick Square, she requested an immediate celebration of themarriage which had been so long pending between the two families. Andshe announced that it was her intention to allow the young couple athousand a year during her lifetime, at the expiration of which thebulk of her property would be settled upon her nephew and her dearniece, Lady Jane Crawley. Waxy came down to ratify the deeds--LordSouthdown gave away his sister--she was married by a Bishop, and not bythe Rev. Bartholomew Irons--to the disappointment of the irregularprelate.

When they were married, Pitt would have liked to take a hymeneal tourwith his bride, as became people of their condition. But the affectionof the old lady towards Lady Jane had grown so strong, that she fairlyowned she could not part with her favourite. Pitt and his wife cametherefore and lived with Miss Crawley: and (greatly to the annoyance ofpoor Pitt, who conceived himself a most injured character--beingsubject to the humours of his aunt on one side, and of hismother-in-law on the other). Lady Southdown, from her neighbouringhouse, reigned over the whole family--Pitt, Lady Jane, Miss Crawley,Briggs, Bowls, Firkin, and all. She pitilessly dosed them with hertracts and her medicine, she dismissed Creamer, she installed Rodgers,and soon stripped Miss Crawley of even the semblance of authority. Thepoor soul grew so timid that she actually left off bullying Briggs anymore, and clung to her niece, more fond and terrified every day. Peaceto thee, kind and selfish, vain and generous old heathen!--We shall seethee no more. Let us hope that Lady Jane supported her kindly, and ledher with gentle hand out of the busy struggle of Vanity Fair.