At last Becky's kindness and attention to the chief of her husband'sfamily were destined to meet with an exceeding great reward, a rewardwhich, though certainly somewhat unsubstantial, the little womancoveted with greater eagerness than more positive benefits. If she didnot wish to lead a virtuous life, at least she desired to enjoy acharacter for virtue, and we know that no lady in the genteel world canpossess this desideratum, until she has put on a train and feathers andhas been presented to her Sovereign at Court. From that augustinterview they come out stamped as honest women. The Lord Chamberlaingives them a certificate of virtue. And as dubious goods or lettersare passed through an oven at quarantine, sprinkled with aromaticvinegar, and then pronounced clean, many a lady, whose reputation wouldbe doubtful otherwise and liable to give infection, passes through thewholesome ordeal of the Royal presence and issues from it free from alltaint.

It might be very well for my Lady Bareacres, my Lady Tufto, Mrs. ButeCrawley in the country, and other ladies who had come into contact withMrs. Rawdon Crawley to cry fie at the idea of the odious littleadventuress making her curtsey before the Sovereign, and to declarethat, if dear good Queen Charlotte had been alive, she never would haveadmitted such an extremely ill-regulated personage into her chastedrawing-room. But when we consider that it was the First Gentleman inEurope in whose high presence Mrs. Rawdon passed her examination, andas it were, took her degree in reputation, it surely must be flatdisloyalty to doubt any more about her virtue. I, for my part, lookback with love and awe to that Great Character in history. Ah, what ahigh and noble appreciation of Gentlewomanhood there must have been inVanity Fair, when that revered and august being was invested, by theuniversal acclaim of the refined and educated portion of this empire,with the title of Premier Gentilhomme of his Kingdom. Do you remember,dear M--, oh friend of my youth, how one blissful night five-and-twentyyears since, the "Hypocrite" being acted, Elliston being manager,Dowton and Liston performers, two boys had leave from their loyalmasters to go out from Slaughter-House School where they were educatedand to appear on Drury Lane stage, amongst a crowd which assembledthere to greet the king. THE KING? There he was. Beefeaters werebefore the august box; the Marquis of Steyne (Lord of the PowderCloset) and other great officers of state were behind the chair onwhich he sat, HE sat--florid of face, portly of person, covered withorders, and in a rich curling head of hair--how we sang God save him!How the house rocked and shouted with that magnificent music. How theycheered, and cried, and waved handkerchiefs. Ladies wept; mothersclasped their children; some fainted with emotion. People weresuffocated in the pit, shrieks and groans rising up amidst the writhingand shouting mass there of his people who were, and indeed showedthemselves almost to be, ready to die for him. Yes, we saw him. Fatecannot deprive us of THAT. Others have seen Napoleon. Some few stillexist who have beheld Frederick the Great, Doctor Johnson, MarieAntoinette, &c.--be it our reasonable boast to our children, that wesaw George the Good, the Magnificent, the Great.

Well, there came a happy day in Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's existence whenthis angel was admitted into the paradise of a Court which she coveted,her sister-in-law acting as her godmother. On the appointed day, SirPitt and his lady, in their great family carriage (just newly built,and ready for the Baronet's assumption of the office of High Sheriff ofhis county), drove up to the little house in Curzon Street, to theedification of Raggles, who was watching from his greengrocer's shop,and saw fine plumes within, and enormous bunches of flowers in thebreasts of the new livery-coats of the footmen.

Sir Pitt, in a glittering uniform, descended and went into CurzonStreet, his sword between his legs. Little Rawdon stood with his faceagainst the parlour window-panes, smiling and nodding with all hismight to his aunt in the carriage within; and presently Sir Pitt issuedforth from the house again, leading forth a lady with grand feathers,covered in a white shawl, and holding up daintily a train ofmagnificent brocade. She stepped into the vehicle as if she were aprincess and accustomed all her life to go to Court, smiling graciouslyon the footman at the door and on Sir Pitt, who followed her into thecarriage.

Then Rawdon followed in his old Guards' uniform, which had grownwoefully shabby, and was much too tight. He was to have followed theprocession and waited upon his sovereign in a cab, but that hisgood-natured sister-in-law insisted that they should be a family party.The coach was large, the ladies not very big, they would hold theirtrains in their laps--finally, the four went fraternally together, andtheir carriage presently joined the line of royal equipages which wasmaking its way down Piccadilly and St. James's Street, towards the oldbrick palace where the Star of Brunswick was in waiting to receive hisnobles and gentlefolks.

Becky felt as if she could bless the people out of the carriagewindows, so elated was she in spirit, and so strong a sense had she ofthe dignified position which she had at last attained in life. Even ourBecky had her weaknesses, and as one often sees how men pridethemselves upon excellences which others are slow to perceive: how, forinstance, Comus firmly believes that he is the greatest tragic actor inEngland; how Brown, the famous novelist, longs to be considered, not aman 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-barredgate--so to be, and to be thought, a respectable woman was Becky's aimin life, and she got up the genteel with amazing assiduity, readiness,and success. We have said, there were times when she believed herselfto be a fine lady and forgot that there was no money in the chest athome--duns round the gate, tradesmen to coax and wheedle--no ground towalk upon, in a word. And as she went to Court in the carriage, thefamily carriage, she adopted a demeanour so grand, self-satisfied,deliberate, and imposing that it made even Lady Jane laugh. She walkedinto the royal apartments with a toss of the head which would havebefitted an empress, and I have no doubt had she been one, she wouldhave become the character perfectly.

We are authorized to state that Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's costume de couron the occasion of her presentation to the Sovereign was of the mostelegant and brilliant description. Some ladies we may have seen--wewho wear stars and cordons and attend the St. James's assemblies, orwe, who, in muddy boots, dawdle up and down Pall Mall and peep into thecoaches as they drive up with the great folks in their feathers--someladies of fashion, I say, we may have seen, about two o'clock of theforenoon of a levee day, as the laced-jacketed band of the Life Guardsare blowing triumphal marches seated on those prancing music-stools,their cream-coloured chargers--who are by no means lovely and enticingobjects at that early period of noon. A stout countess of sixty,decolletee, painted, wrinkled with rouge up to her drooping eyelids,and diamonds twinkling in her wig, is a wholesome and edifying, but nota pleasant sight. She has the faded look of a St. James's Streetillumination, as it may be seen of an early morning, when half thelamps are out, and the others are blinking wanly, as if they were aboutto vanish like ghosts before the dawn. Such charms as those of whichwe catch glimpses while her ladyship's carriage passes should appearabroad at night alone. If even Cynthia looks haggard of an afternoon,as we may see her sometimes in the present winter season, with Phoebusstaring her out of countenance from the opposite side of the heavens,how much more can old Lady Castlemouldy keep her head up when the sunis shining full upon it through the chariot windows, and showing allthe chinks and crannies with which time has marked her face! No.Drawing-rooms should be announced for November, or the first foggy day,or the elderly sultanas of our Vanity Fair should drive up in closedlitters, descend in a covered way, and make their curtsey to theSovereign under the protection of lamplight.

Our beloved Rebecca had no need, however, of any such a friendly haloto set off her beauty. Her complexion could bear any sunshine as yet,and her dress, though if you were to see it now, any present lady ofVanity Fair would pronounce it to be the most foolish and preposterousattire ever worn, was as handsome in her eyes and those of the public,some five-and-twenty years since, as the most brilliant costume of themost famous beauty of the present season. A score of years hence thattoo, that milliner's wonder, will have passed into the domain of theabsurd, along with all previous vanities. But we are wandering toomuch. Mrs. Rawdon's dress was pronounced to be charmante on theeventful day of her presentation. Even good little Lady Jane was forcedto acknowledge this effect, as she looked at her kinswoman, and ownedsorrowfully to herself that she was quite inferior in taste to Mrs.Becky.

She did not know how much care, thought, and genius Mrs. Rawdon hadbestowed upon that garment. Rebecca had as good taste as any millinerin Europe, and such a clever way of doing things as Lady Jane littleunderstood. The latter quickly spied out the magnificence of thebrocade of Becky's train, and the splendour of the lace on her dress.

The brocade was an old remnant, Becky said; and as for the lace, it wasa great bargain. She had had it these hundred years.

"My dear Mrs. Crawley, it must have cost a little fortune," Lady Janesaid, looking down at her own lace, which was not nearly so good; andthen examining the quality of the ancient brocade which formed thematerial of Mrs. Rawdon's Court dress, she felt inclined to say thatshe could not afford such fine clothing, but checked that speech, withan effort, as one uncharitable to her kinswoman.

And yet, if Lady Jane had known all, I think even her kindly temperwould have failed her. The fact is, when she was putting Sir Pitt'shouse in order, Mrs. Rawdon had found the lace and the brocade in oldwardrobes, the property of the former ladies of the house, and hadquietly carried the goods home, and had suited them to her own littleperson. Briggs saw her take them, asked no questions, told no stories;but I believe quite sympathised with her on this matter, and so wouldmany another honest woman.

And the diamonds--"Where the doose did you get the diamonds, Becky?"said her husband, admiring some jewels which he had never seen beforeand which sparkled in her ears and on her neck with brilliance andprofusion.

Becky blushed a little and looked at him hard for a moment. PittCrawley blushed a little too, and looked out of window. The fact is,he had given her a very small portion of the brilliants; a prettydiamond clasp, which confined a pearl necklace which she wore--and theBaronet had omitted to mention the circumstance to his lady.

Becky looked at her husband, and then at Sir Pitt, with an air of saucytriumph--as much as to say, "Shall I betray you?"

"Guess!" she said to her husband. "Why, you silly man," she continued,"where do you suppose I got them?--all except the little clasp, which adear friend of mine gave me long ago. I hired them, to be sure. Ihired them at Mr. Polonius's, in Coventry Street. You don't supposethat all the diamonds which go to Court belong to the wearers; likethose beautiful stones which Lady Jane has, and which are muchhandsomer than any which I have, I am certain."

"They are family jewels," said Sir Pitt, again looking uneasy. And inthis family conversation the carriage rolled down the street, until itscargo was finally discharged at the gates of the palace where theSovereign was sitting in state.

The diamonds, which had created Rawdon's admiration, never went back toMr. Polonius, of Coventry Street, and that gentleman never applied fortheir restoration, but they retired into a little private repository,in an old desk, which Amelia Sedley had given her years and years ago,and in which Becky kept a number of useful and, perhaps, valuablethings, about which her husband knew nothing. To know nothing, orlittle, is in the nature of some husbands. To hide, in the nature ofhow many women? Oh, ladies! how many of you have surreptitiousmilliners' bills? How many of you have gowns and bracelets which youdaren't show, or which you wear trembling?--trembling, and coaxingwith smiles the husband by your side, who does not know the new velvetgown from the old one, or the new bracelet from last year's, or has anynotion that the ragged-looking yellow lace scarf cost forty guineas andthat Madame Bobinot is writing dunning letters every week for the money!

Thus Rawdon knew nothing about the brilliant diamond ear-rings, or thesuperb brilliant ornament which decorated the fair bosom of his lady;but Lord Steyne, who was in his place at Court, as Lord of the PowderCloset, and one of the great dignitaries and illustrious defences ofthe throne of England, and came up with all his stars, garters,collars, and cordons, and paid particular attention to the littlewoman, knew whence the jewels came and who paid for them.

As he bowed over her he smiled, and quoted the hackneyed and beautifullines from The Rape of the Lock about Belinda's diamonds, "which Jewsmight kiss and infidels adore."

"But I hope your lordship is orthodox," said the little lady with atoss of her head. And many ladies round about whispered and talked,and many gentlemen nodded and whispered, as they saw what markedattention the great nobleman was paying to the little adventuress.

What were the circumstances of the interview between Rebecca Crawley,nee Sharp, and her Imperial Master, it does not become such a feebleand inexperienced pen as mine to attempt to relate. The dazzled eyesclose before that Magnificent Idea. Loyal respect and decency telleven the imagination not to look too keenly and audaciously about thesacred audience-chamber, but to back away rapidly, silently, andrespectfully, making profound bows out of the August Presence.

This may be said, that in all London there was no more loyal heart thanBecky's after this interview. The name of her king was always on herlips, and he was proclaimed by her to be the most charming of men. Shewent to Colnaghi's and ordered the finest portrait of him that art hadproduced, and credit could supply. She chose that famous one in whichthe best of monarchs is represented in a frock-coat with a fur collar,and breeches and silk stockings, simpering on a sofa from under hiscurly brown wig. She had him painted in a brooch and wore it--indeedshe amused and somewhat pestered her acquaintance with her perpetualtalk about his urbanity and beauty. Who knows! Perhaps the littlewoman thought she might play the part of a Maintenon or a Pompadour.

But the finest sport of all after her presentation was to hear her talkvirtuously. She had a few female acquaintances, not, it must be owned,of the very highest reputation in Vanity Fair. But being made anhonest woman of, so to speak, Becky would not consort any longer withthese dubious ones, and cut Lady Crackenbury when the latter nodded toher from her opera-box, and gave Mrs. Washington White the go-by in theRing. "One must, my dear, show one is somebody," she said. "Onemustn't be seen with doubtful people. I pity Lady Crackenbury from myheart, and Mrs. Washington White may be a very good-natured person.YOU may go and dine with them, as you like your rubber. But I mustn't,and won't; and you will have the goodness to tell Smith to say I am notat home when either of them calls."

The particulars of Becky's costume were in the newspapers--feathers,lappets, superb diamonds, and all the rest. Lady Crackenbury read theparagraph in bitterness of spirit and discoursed to her followers aboutthe airs which that woman was giving herself. Mrs. Bute Crawley andher young ladies in the country had a copy of the Morning Post fromtown, and gave a vent to their honest indignation. "If you had beensandy-haired, green-eyed, and a French rope-dancer's daughter," Mrs.Bute said to her eldest girl (who, on the contrary, was a very swarthy,short, and snub-nosed young lady), "You might have had superb diamondsforsooth, and have been presented at Court by your cousin, the LadyJane. But you're only a gentlewoman, my poor dear child. You haveonly some of the best blood in England in your veins, and goodprinciples and piety for your portion. I, myself, the wife of aBaronet's younger brother, too, never thought of such a thing as goingto Court--nor would other people, if good Queen Charlotte had beenalive." In this way the worthy Rectoress consoled herself, and herdaughters sighed and sat over the Peerage all night.

A few days after the famous presentation, another great and exceedinghonour was vouchsafed to the virtuous Becky. Lady Steyne's carriagedrove up to Mr. Rawdon Crawley's door, and the footman, instead ofdriving down the front of the house, as by his tremendous knocking heappeared to be inclined to do, relented and only delivered in a coupleof cards, on which were engraven the names of the Marchioness of Steyneand the Countess of Gaunt. If these bits of pasteboard had beenbeautiful pictures, or had had a hundred yards of Malines lace rolledround them, worth twice the number of guineas, Becky could not haveregarded them with more pleasure. You may be sure they occupied aconspicuous place in the china bowl on the drawing-room table, whereBecky kept the cards of her visitors. Lord! lord! how poor Mrs.Washington White's card and Lady Crackenbury's card--which our littlefriend had been glad enough to get a few months back, and of which thesilly little creature was rather proud once--Lord! lord! I say, howsoon at the appearance of these grand court cards, did those poorlittle neglected deuces sink down to the bottom of the pack. Steyne!Bareacres, Johnes of Helvellyn! and Caerylon of Camelot! we may besure that Becky and Briggs looked out those august names in thePeerage, and followed the noble races up through all the ramificationsof the family tree.

My Lord Steyne coming to call a couple of hours afterwards, and lookingabout him, and observing everything as was his wont, found his ladies'cards already ranged as the trumps of Becky's hand, and grinned, asthis old cynic always did at any naive display of human weakness.Becky came down to him presently; whenever the dear girl expected hislordship, her toilette was prepared, her hair in perfect order, hermouchoirs, aprons, scarfs, little morocco slippers, and other femalegimcracks arranged, and she seated in some artless and agreeableposture ready to receive him--whenever she was surprised, of course,she had to fly to her apartment to take a rapid survey of matters inthe glass, and to trip down again to wait upon the great peer.

She found him grinning over the bowl. She was discovered, and sheblushed a little. "Thank you, Monseigneur," she said. "You see yourladies have been here. How good of you! I couldn't come before--I wasin the kitchen making a pudding."

"I know you were, I saw you through the area-railings as I drove up,"replied the old gentleman.

"You see everything," she replied.

"A few things, but not that, my pretty lady," he said good-naturedly."You silly little fibster! I heard you in the room overhead, where Ihave no doubt you were putting a little rouge on--you must give someof yours to my Lady Gaunt, whose complexion is quite preposterous--andI heard the bedroom door open, and then you came downstairs."

"Is it a crime to try and look my best when YOU come here?" answeredMrs. Rawdon plaintively, and she rubbed her cheek with her handkerchiefas if to show there was no rouge at all, only genuine blushes andmodesty in her case. About this who can tell? I know there is somerouge that won't come off on a pocket-handkerchief, and some so goodthat even tears will not disturb it.

"Well," said the old gentleman, twiddling round his wife's card, "youare bent on becoming a fine lady. You pester my poor old life out toget you into the world. You won't be able to hold your own there, yousilly little fool. You've got no money."

"You will get us a place," interposed Becky, "as quick as possible."

"You've got no money, and you want to compete with those who have. Youpoor little earthenware pipkin, you want to swim down the stream alongwith the great copper kettles. All women are alike. Everybody isstriving for what is not worth the having! Gad! I dined with the Kingyesterday, and we had neck of mutton and turnips. A dinner of herbs isbetter than a stalled ox very often. You will go to Gaunt House. Yougive an old fellow no rest until you get there. It's not half so niceas here. You'll be bored there. I am. My wife is as gay as LadyMacbeth, and my daughters as cheerful as Regan and Goneril. I daren'tsleep in what they call my bedroom. The bed is like the baldaquin ofSt. Peter's, and the pictures frighten me. I have a little brass bedin a dressing-room, and a little hair mattress like an anchorite. I aman anchorite. Ho! ho! You'll be asked to dinner next week. And gareaux femmes, look out and hold your own! How the women will bully you!"This was a very long speech for a man of few words like my Lord Steyne;nor was it the first which he uttered for Becky's benefit on that day.

Briggs looked up from the work-table at which she was seated in thefarther room and gave a deep sigh as she heard the great Marquis speakso lightly of her sex.

"If you don't turn off that abominable sheep-dog," said Lord Steyne,with a savage look over his shoulder at her, "I will have her poisoned."

"I always give my dog dinner from my own plate," said Rebecca, laughingmischievously; and having enjoyed for some time the discomfiture of mylord, who hated poor Briggs for interrupting his tete-a-tete with thefair Colonel's wife, Mrs. Rawdon at length had pity upon her admirer,and calling to Briggs, praised the fineness of the weather to her andbade her to take out the child for a walk.

"I can't send her away," Becky said presently, after a pause, and in avery sad voice. Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, and sheturned away her head.

"You owe her her wages, I suppose?" said the Peer.

"Worse than that," said Becky, still casting down her eyes; "I haveruined her."

"Ruined her? Then why don't you turn her out?" the gentleman asked.

"Men do that," Becky answered bitterly. "Women are not so bad as you.Last year, when we were reduced to our last guinea, she gave useverything. She shall never leave me, until we are ruined utterlyourselves, which does not seem far off, or until I can pay her theutmost farthing."

"------ it, how much is it?" said the Peer with an oath. And Becky,reflecting on the largeness of his means, mentioned not only the sumwhich she had borrowed from Miss Briggs, but one of nearly double theamount.

This caused the Lord Steyne to break out in another brief and energeticexpression of anger, at which Rebecca held down her head the more andcried bitterly. "I could not help it. It was my only chance. I darenot tell my husband. He would kill me if I told him what I have done.I have kept it a secret from everybody but you--and you forced it fromme. Ah, what shall I do, Lord Steyne? for I am very, very unhappy!"

Lord Steyne made no reply except by beating the devil's tattoo andbiting his nails. At last he clapped his hat on his head and flung outof the room. Rebecca did not rise from her attitude of misery untilthe door slammed upon him and his carriage whirled away. Then she roseup with the queerest expression of victorious mischief glittering inher green eyes. She burst out laughing once or twice to herself, asshe sat at work, and sitting down to the piano, she rattled away atriumphant voluntary on the keys, which made the people pause under herwindow to listen to her brilliant music.

That night, there came two notes from Gaunt House for the little woman,the one containing a card of invitation from Lord and Lady Steyne to adinner at Gaunt House next Friday, while the other enclosed a slip ofgray paper bearing Lord Steyne's signature and the address of Messrs.Jones, Brown, and Robinson, Lombard Street.

Rawdon heard Becky laughing in the night once or twice. It was onlyher delight at going to Gaunt House and facing the ladies there, shesaid, which amused her so. But the truth was that she was occupiedwith a great number of other thoughts. Should she pay off old Briggsand give her her conge? Should she astonish Raggles by settling hisaccount? She turned over all these thoughts on her pillow, and on thenext day, when Rawdon went out to pay his morning visit to the Club,Mrs. Crawley (in a modest dress with a veil on) whipped off in ahackney-coach to the City: and being landed at Messrs. Jones andRobinson's bank, presented a document there to the authority at thedesk, who, in reply, asked her "How she would take it?"

She gently said "she would take a hundred and fifty pounds in smallnotes and the remainder in one note": and passing through St. Paul'sChurchyard stopped there and bought the handsomest black silk gown forBriggs which money could buy; and which, with a kiss and the kindestspeeches, she presented to the simple old spinster.

Then she walked to Mr. Raggles, inquired about his childrenaffectionately, and gave him fifty pounds on account. Then she went tothe livery-man from whom she jobbed her carriages and gratified himwith a similar sum. "And I hope this will be a lesson to you, Spavin,"she said, "and that on the next drawing-room day my brother, Sir Pitt,will not be inconvenienced by being obliged to take four of us in hiscarriage to wait upon His Majesty, because my own carriage is notforthcoming." It appears there had been a difference on the lastdrawing-room day. Hence the degradation which the Colonel had almostsuffered, of being obliged to enter the presence of his Sovereign in ahack cab.

These arrangements concluded, Becky paid a visit upstairs to thebefore-mentioned desk, which Amelia Sedley had given her years andyears ago, and which contained a number of useful and valuable littlethings--in which private museum she placed the one note which Messrs.Jones and Robinson's cashier had given her.