Becky did not rally from the state of stupor and confusion in which theevents of the previous night had plunged her intrepid spirit until thebells of the Curzon Street Chapels were ringing for afternoon service,and rising from her bed she began to ply her own bell, in order tosummon the French maid who had left her some hours before.

Mrs. Rawdon Crawley rang many times in vain; and though, on the lastoccasion, she rang with such vehemence as to pull down the bell-rope,Mademoiselle Fifine did not make her appearance--no, not though hermistress, in a great pet, and with the bell-rope in her hand, came outto the landing-place with her hair over her shoulders and screamed outrepeatedly for her attendant.

The truth is, she had quitted the premises for many hours, and uponthat permission which is called French leave among us. After picking upthe trinkets in the drawing-room, Mademoiselle had ascended to her ownapartments, packed and corded her own boxes there, tripped out andcalled a cab for herself, brought down her trunks with her own hand,and without ever so much as asking the aid of any of the otherservants, who would probably have refused it, as they hated hercordially, and without wishing any one of them good-bye, had made herexit from Curzon Street.

The game, in her opinion, was over in that little domesticestablishment. Fifine went off in a cab, as we have known more exaltedpersons of her nation to do under similar circumstances: but, moreprovident or lucky than these, she secured not only her own property,but some of her mistress's (if indeed that lady could be said to haveany property at all)--and not only carried off the trinkets beforealluded to, and some favourite dresses on which she had long kept hereye, but four richly gilt Louis Quatorze candlesticks, six gilt albums,keepsakes, and Books of Beauty, a gold enamelled snuff-box which hadonce belonged to Madame du Barri, and the sweetest little inkstand andmother-of-pearl blotting book, which Becky used when she composed hercharming little pink notes, had vanished from the premises in CurzonStreet together with Mademoiselle Fifine, and all the silver laid onthe table for the little festin which Rawdon interrupted. The platedware Mademoiselle left behind her was too cumbrous, probably for whichreason, no doubt, she also left the fire irons, the chimney-glasses,and the rosewood cottage piano.

A lady very like her subsequently kept a milliner's shop in the Rue duHelder at Paris, where she lived with great credit and enjoyed thepatronage of my Lord Steyne. This person always spoke of England as ofthe most treacherous country in the world, and stated to her youngpupils that she had been affreusement vole by natives of that island.It was no doubt compassion for her misfortunes which induced theMarquis of Steyne to be so very kind to Madame de Saint-Amaranthe. Mayshe flourish as she deserves--she appears no more in our quarter ofVanity Fair.

Hearing a buzz and a stir below, and indignant at the impudence ofthose servants who would not answer her summons, Mrs. Crawley flung hermorning robe round her and descended majestically to the drawing-room,whence the noise proceeded.

The cook was there with blackened face, seated on the beautiful chintzsofa by the side of Mrs. Raggles, to whom she was administeringMaraschino. The page with the sugar-loaf buttons, who carried aboutBecky's pink notes, and jumped about her little carriage with suchalacrity, was now engaged putting his fingers into a cream dish; thefootman was talking to Raggles, who had a face full of perplexity andwoe--and yet, though the door was open, and Becky had been screaming ahalf-dozen of times a few feet off, not one of her attendants hadobeyed her call. "Have a little drop, do'ee now, Mrs. Raggles," thecook was saying as Becky entered, the white cashmere dressing-gownflouncing around her.

"Simpson! Trotter!" the mistress of the house cried in great wrath."How dare you stay here when you heard me call? How dare you sit downin my presence? Where's my maid?" The page withdrew his fingers fromhis mouth with a momentary terror, but the cook took off a glass ofMaraschino, of which Mrs. Raggles had had enough, staring at Becky overthe little gilt glass as she drained its contents. The liquor appearedto give the odious rebel courage.

"YOUR sofy, indeed!" Mrs. Cook said. "I'm a settin' on Mrs. Raggles'ssofy. Don't you stir, Mrs. Raggles, Mum. I'm a settin' on Mr. and Mrs.Raggles's sofy, which they bought with honest money, and very dear itcost 'em, too. And I'm thinkin' if I set here until I'm paid my wages,I shall set a precious long time, Mrs. Raggles; and set I will,too--ha! ha!" and with this she filled herself another glass of theliquor and drank it with a more hideously satirical air.

"Trotter! Simpson! turn that drunken wretch out," screamed Mrs.Crawley.

"I shawn't," said Trotter the footman; "turn out yourself. Pay ourselleries, and turn me out too. WE'LL go fast enough."

"Are you all here to insult me?" cried Becky in a fury; "when ColonelCrawley comes home I'll--"

At this the servants burst into a horse haw-haw, in which, however,Raggles, who still kept a most melancholy countenance, did not join."He ain't a coming back," Mr. Trotter resumed. "He sent for histhings, and I wouldn't let 'em go, although Mr. Raggles would; and Idon't b'lieve he's no more a Colonel than I am. He's hoff, and Isuppose you're a goin' after him. You're no better than swindlers,both on you. Don't be a bullyin' ME. I won't stand it. Pay us ourselleries, I say. Pay us our selleries." It was evident, from Mr.Trotter's flushed countenance and defective intonation, that he, too,had had recourse to vinous stimulus.

"Mr. Raggles," said Becky in a passion of vexation, "you will notsurely let me be insulted by that drunken man?" "Hold your noise,Trotter; do now," said Simpson the page. He was affected by hismistress's deplorable situation, and succeeded in preventing anoutrageous denial of the epithet "drunken" on the footman's part.

"Oh, M'am," said Raggles, "I never thought to live to see this yearday: I've known the Crawley family ever since I was born. I livedbutler with Miss Crawley for thirty years; and I little thought one ofthat family was a goin' to ruing me--yes, ruing me"--said the poorfellow with tears in his eyes. "Har you a goin' to pay me? You'velived in this 'ouse four year. You've 'ad my substance: my plate andlinning. You ho me a milk and butter bill of two 'undred pound, youmust 'ave noo laid heggs for your homlets, and cream for your spanildog."

"She didn't care what her own flesh and blood had," interposed thecook. "Many's the time, he'd have starved but for me."

"He's a charaty-boy now, Cooky," said Mr. Trotter, with a drunken "ha!ha!"--and honest Raggles continued, in a lamentable tone, anenumeration of his griefs. All he said was true. Becky and herhusband had ruined him. He had bills coming due next week and no meansto meet them. He would be sold up and turned out of his shop and hishouse, because he had trusted to the Crawley family. His tears andlamentations made Becky more peevish than ever.

"You all seem to be against me," she said bitterly. "What do you want?I can't pay you on Sunday. Come back to-morrow and I'll pay youeverything. I thought Colonel Crawley had settled with you. He willto-morrow. I declare to you upon my honour that he left home thismorning with fifteen hundred pounds in his pocket-book. He has left menothing. Apply to him. Give me a bonnet and shawl and let me go outand find him. There was a difference between us this morning. You allseem to know it. I promise you upon my word that you shall all bepaid. He has got a good appointment. Let me go out and find him."

This audacious statement caused Raggles and the other personagespresent to look at one another with a wild surprise, and with itRebecca left them. She went upstairs and dressed herself this timewithout the aid of her French maid. She went into Rawdon's room, andthere saw that a trunk and bag were packed ready for removal, with apencil direction that they should be given when called for; then shewent into the Frenchwoman's garret; everything was clean, and all thedrawers emptied there. She bethought herself of the trinkets which hadbeen left on the ground and felt certain that the woman had fled. "GoodHeavens! was ever such ill luck as mine?" she said; "to be so near,and to lose all. Is it all too late?" No; there was one chance more.

She dressed herself and went away unmolested this time, but alone. Itwas four o'clock. She went swiftly down the streets (she had no moneyto pay for a carriage), and never stopped until she came to Sir PittCrawley's door, in Great Gaunt Street. Where was Lady Jane Crawley?She was at church. Becky was not sorry. Sir Pitt was in his study, andhad given orders not to be disturbed--she must see him--she slipped bythe sentinel in livery at once, and was in Sir Pitt's room before theastonished Baronet had even laid down the paper.

He turned red and started back from her with a look of great alarm andhorror.

"Do not look so," she said. "I am not guilty, Pitt, dear Pitt; youwere my friend once. Before God, I am not guilty. I seem so.Everything is against me. And oh! at such a moment! just when all myhopes were about to be realized: just when happiness was in store forus."

"Is this true, what I see in the paper then?" Sir Pitt said--aparagraph in which had greatly surprised him.

"It is true. Lord Steyne told me on Friday night, the night of thatfatal ball. He has been promised an appointment any time these sixmonths. Mr. Martyr, the Colonial Secretary, told him yesterday that itwas made out. That unlucky arrest ensued; that horrible meeting. I wasonly guilty of too much devotedness to Rawdon's service. I havereceived Lord Steyne alone a hundred times before. I confess I hadmoney of which Rawdon knew nothing. Don't you know how careless he isof it, and could I dare to confide it to him?" And so she went on witha perfectly connected story, which she poured into the ears of herperplexed kinsman.

It was to the following effect. Becky owned, and with prefectfrankness, but deep contrition, that having remarked Lord Steyne'spartiality for her (at the mention of which Pitt blushed), and beingsecure of her own virtue, she had determined to turn the great peer'sattachment to the advantage of herself and her family. "I looked for apeerage for you, Pitt," she said (the brother-in-law again turned red)."We have talked about it. Your genius and Lord Steyne's interest madeit more than probable, had not this dreadful calamity come to put anend to all our hopes. But, first, I own that it was my object torescue my dear husband--him whom I love in spite of all his ill usageand suspicions of me--to remove him from the poverty and ruin which wasimpending over us. I saw Lord Steyne's partiality for me," she said,casting down her eyes. "I own that I did everything in my power tomake myself pleasing to him, and as far as an honest woman may, tosecure his--his esteem. It was only on Friday morning that the newsarrived of the death of the Governor of Coventry Island, and my Lordinstantly secured the appointment for my dear husband. It was intendedas a surprise for him--he was to see it in the papers to-day. Evenafter that horrid arrest took place (the expenses of which Lord Steynegenerously said he would settle, so that I was in a manner preventedfrom coming to my husband's assistance), my Lord was laughing with me,and saying that my dearest Rawdon would be consoled when he read of hisappointment in the paper, in that shocking spun--bailiff's house. Andthen--then he came home. His suspicions were excited,--the dreadfulscene took place between my Lord and my cruel, cruel Rawdon--and, O myGod, what will happen next? Pitt, dear Pitt! pity me, and reconcileus!" And as she spoke she flung herself down on her knees, and burstinginto tears, seized hold of Pitt's hand, which she kissed passionately.

It was in this very attitude that Lady Jane, who, returning fromchurch, ran to her husband's room directly she heard Mrs. RawdonCrawley was closeted there, found the Baronet and his sister-in-law.

"I am surprised that woman has the audacity to enter this house," LadyJane said, trembling in every limb and turning quite pale. (HerLadyship had sent out her maid directly after breakfast, who hadcommunicated with Raggles and Rawdon Crawley's household, who had toldher all, and a great deal more than they knew, of that story, and manyothers besides). "How dare Mrs. Crawley to enter the house of--of anhonest family?"

Sir Pitt started back, amazed at his wife's display of vigour. Beckystill kept her kneeling posture and clung to Sir Pitt's hand.

"Tell her that she does not know all: Tell her that I am innocent,dear Pitt," she whimpered out.

"Upon-my word, my love, I think you do Mrs. Crawley injustice," SirPitt said; at which speech Rebecca was vastly relieved. "Indeed Ibelieve her to be--"

"To be what?" cried out Lady Jane, her clear voice thrilling and, herheart beating violently as she spoke. "To be a wicked woman--aheartless mother, a false wife? She never loved her dear little boy,who used to fly here and tell me of her cruelty to him. She never cameinto a family but she strove to bring misery with her and to weaken themost sacred affections with her wicked flattery and falsehoods. Shehas deceived her husband, as she has deceived everybody; her soul isblack with vanity, worldliness, and all sorts of crime. I tremble whenI touch her. I keep my children out of her sight."

"Lady Jane!" cried Sir Pitt, starting up, "this is really language--""I have been a true and faithful wife to you, Sir Pitt," Lady Janecontinued, intrepidly; "I have kept my marriage vow as I made it to Godand have been obedient and gentle as a wife should. But righteousobedience has its limits, and I declare that I will not bear that--thatwoman again under my roof; if she enters it, I and my children willleave it. She is not worthy to sit down with Christian people.You--you must choose, sir, between her and me"; and with this my Ladyswept out of the room, fluttering with her own audacity, and leavingRebecca and Sir Pitt not a little astonished at it.

As for Becky, she was not hurt; nay, she was pleased. "It was thediamond-clasp you gave me," she said to Sir Pitt, reaching him out herhand; and before she left him (for which event you may be sure my LadyJane was looking out from her dressing-room window in the upper story)the Baronet had promised to go and seek out his brother, and endeavourto bring about a reconciliation.

Rawdon found some of the young fellows of the regiment seated in themess-room at breakfast, and was induced without much difficulty topartake of that meal, and of the devilled legs of fowls and soda-waterwith which these young gentlemen fortified themselves. Then they had aconversation befitting the day and their time of life: about the nextpigeon-match at Battersea, with relative bets upon Ross andOsbaldiston; about Mademoiselle Ariane of the French Opera, and who hadleft her, and how she was consoled by Panther Carr; and about the fightbetween the Butcher and the Pet, and the probabilities that it was across. Young Tandyman, a hero of seventeen, laboriously endeavouringto get up a pair of mustachios, had seen the fight, and spoke in themost scientific manner about the battle and the condition of the men.It was he who had driven the Butcher on to the ground in his drag andpassed the whole of the previous night with him. Had there not beenfoul play he must have won it. All the old files of the Ring were init; and Tandyman wouldn't pay; no, dammy, he wouldn't pay. It was buta year since the young Cornet, now so knowing a hand in Cribb'sparlour, had a still lingering liking for toffy, and used to be birchedat Eton.

So they went on talking about dancers, fights, drinking, demireps,until Macmurdo came down and joined the boys and the conversation. Hedid not appear to think that any especial reverence was due to theirboyhood; the old fellow cut in with stories, to the full as choice asany the youngest rake present had to tell--nor did his own grey hairsnor their smooth faces detain him. Old Mac was famous for his goodstories. He was not exactly a lady's man; that is, men asked him todine rather at the houses of their mistresses than of their mothers.There can scarcely be a life lower, perhaps, than his, but he was quitecontented with it, such as it was, and led it in perfect good nature,simplicity, and modesty of demeanour.

By the time Mac had finished a copious breakfast, most of the othershad concluded their meal. Young Lord Varinas was smoking an immenseMeerschaum pipe, while Captain Hugues was employed with a cigar: thatviolent little devil Tandyman, with his little bull-terrier between hislegs, was tossing for shillings with all his might (that fellow wasalways at some game or other) against Captain Deuceace; and Mac andRawdon walked off to the Club, neither, of course, having given anyhint of the business which was occupying their minds. Both, on theother hand, had joined pretty gaily in the conversation, for why shouldthey interrupt it? Feasting, drinking, ribaldry, laughter, go onalongside of all sorts of other occupations in Vanity Fair--the crowdswere pouring out of church as Rawdon and his friend passed down St.James's Street and entered into their Club.

The old bucks and habitues, who ordinarily stand gaping and grinningout of the great front window of the Club, had not arrived at theirposts as yet--the newspaper-room was almost empty. One man was presentwhom Rawdon did not know; another to whom he owed a little score forwhist, and whom, in consequence, he did not care to meet; a third wasreading the Royalist (a periodical famous for its scandal and itsattachment to Church and King) Sunday paper at the table, and lookingup at Crawley with some interest, said, "Crawley, I congratulate you."

"What do you mean?" said the Colonel.

"It's in the Observer and the Royalist too," said Mr. Smith.

"What?" Rawdon cried, turning very red. He thought that the affairwith Lord Steyne was already in the public prints. Smith looked upwondering and smiling at the agitation which the Colonel exhibited ashe took up the paper and, trembling, began to read.

Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown (the gentleman with whom Rawdon had theoutstanding whist account) had been talking about the Colonel justbefore he came in.

"It is come just in the nick of time," said Smith. "I suppose Crawleyhad not a shilling in the world."

"It's a wind that blows everybody good," Mr. Brown said. "He can't goaway without paying me a pony he owes me."

"What's the salary?" asked Smith.

"Two or three thousand," answered the other. "But the climate's soinfernal, they don't enjoy it long. Liverseege died after eighteenmonths of it, and the man before went off in six weeks, I hear."

"Some people say his brother is a very clever man. I always found hima d------ bore," Smith ejaculated. "He must have good interest, though.He must have got the Colonel the place."

"He!" said Brown, with a sneer. "Pooh. It was Lord Steyne got it.

"How do you mean?"

"A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband," answered the otherenigmatically, and went to read his papers.

Rawdon, for his part, read in the Royalist the following astonishingparagraph:

GOVERNORSHIP OF COVENTRY ISLAND.--H.M.S. Yellowjack, CommanderJaunders, has brought letters and papers from Coventry Island. H. E.Sir Thomas Liverseege had fallen a victim to the prevailing fever atSwampton. His loss is deeply felt in the flourishing colony. We hearthat the Governorship has been offered to Colonel Rawdon Crawley, C.B.,a distinguished Waterloo officer. We need not only men of acknowledgedbravery, but men of administrative talents to superintend the affairsof our colonies, and we have no doubt that the gentleman selected bythe Colonial Office to fill the lamented vacancy which has occurred atCoventry Island is admirably calculated for the post which he is aboutto occupy.

"Coventry Island! Where was it? Who had appointed him to thegovernment? You must take me out as your secretary, old boy," CaptainMacmurdo said laughing; and as Crawley and his friend sat wondering andperplexed over the announcement, the Club waiter brought in to theColonel a card on which the name of Mr. Wenham was engraved, who beggedto see Colonel Crawley.

The Colonel and his aide-de-camp went out to meet the gentleman,rightly conjecturing that he was an emissary of Lord Steyne. "How d'yedo, Crawley? I am glad to see you," said Mr. Wenham with a bland smile,and grasping Crawley's hand with great cordiality.

"You come, I suppose, from--"

"Exactly," said Mr. Wenham.

"Then this is my friend Captain Macmurdo, of the Life Guards Green."

"Delighted to know Captain Macmurdo, I'm sure," Mr. Wenham said andtendered another smile and shake of the hand to the second, as he haddone to the principal. Mac put out one finger, armed with a buckskinglove, and made a very frigid bow to Mr. Wenham over his tight cravat.He was, perhaps, discontented at being put in communication with apekin, and thought that Lord Steyne should have sent him a Colonel atthe very least.

"As Macmurdo acts for me, and knows what I mean," Crawley said, "I hadbetter retire and leave you together."

"Of course," said Macmurdo.

"By no means, my dear Colonel," Mr. Wenham said; "the interview which Ihad the honour of requesting was with you personally, though thecompany of Captain Macmurdo cannot fail to be also most pleasing. Infact, Captain, I hope that our conversation will lead to none but themost agreeable results, very different from those which my friendColonel Crawley appears to anticipate."

"Humph!" said Captain Macmurdo. Be hanged to these civilians, hethought to himself, they are always for arranging and speechifying. Mr.Wenham took a chair which was not offered to him--took a paper from hispocket, and resumed--

"You have seen this gratifying announcement in the papers this morning,Colonel? Government has secured a most valuable servant, and you, ifyou accept office, as I presume you will, an excellent appointment.Three thousand a year, delightful climate, excellent government-house,all your own way in the Colony, and a certain promotion. Icongratulate you with all my heart. I presume you know, gentlemen, towhom my friend is indebted for this piece of patronage?"

"Hanged if I know," the Captain said; his principal turned very red.

"To one of the most generous and kindest men in the world, as he is oneof the greatest--to my excellent friend, the Marquis of Steyne."

"I'll see him d---- before I take his place," growled out Rawdon.

"You are irritated against my noble friend," Mr. Wenham calmly resumed;"and now, in the name of common sense and justice, tell me why?"

"WHY?" cried Rawdon in surprise.

"Why? Dammy!" said the Captain, ringing his stick on the ground.

"Dammy, indeed," said Mr. Wenham with the most agreeable smile; "still,look at the matter as a man of the world--as an honest man--and see ifyou have not been in the wrong. You come home from a journey, andfind--what?--my Lord Steyne supping at your house in Curzon Street withMrs. Crawley. Is the circumstance strange or novel? Has he not been ahundred times before in the same position? Upon my honour and word as agentleman"--Mr. Wenham here put his hand on his waistcoat with aparliamentary air--"I declare I think that your suspicions aremonstrous and utterly unfounded, and that they injure an honourablegentleman who has proved his good-will towards you by a thousandbenefactions--and a most spotless and innocent lady."

"You don't mean to say that--that Crawley's mistaken?" said Mr.Macmurdo.

"I believe that Mrs. Crawley is as innocent as my wife, Mrs. Wenham,"Mr. Wenham said with great energy. "I believe that, misled by aninfernal jealousy, my friend here strikes a blow against not only aninfirm and old man of high station, his constant friend and benefactor,but against his wife, his own dearest honour, his son's futurereputation, and his own prospects in life."

"I will tell you what happened," Mr. Wenham continued with greatsolemnity; "I was sent for this morning by my Lord Steyne, and foundhim in a pitiable state, as, I need hardly inform Colonel Crawley, anyman of age and infirmity would be after a personal conflict with a manof your strength. I say to your face; it was a cruel advantage youtook of that strength, Colonel Crawley. It was not only the body of mynoble and excellent friend which was wounded--his heart, sir, wasbleeding. A man whom he had loaded with benefits and regarded withaffection had subjected him to the foulest indignity. What was thisvery appointment, which appears in the journals of to-day, but a proofof his kindness to you? When I saw his Lordship this morning I foundhim in a state pitiable indeed to see, and as anxious as you are torevenge the outrage committed upon him, by blood. You know he hasgiven his proofs, I presume, Colonel Crawley?"

"He has plenty of pluck," said the Colonel. "Nobody ever said hehadn't."

"His first order to me was to write a letter of challenge, and to carryit to Colonel Crawley. One or other of us," he said, "must not survivethe outrage of last night."

Crawley nodded. "You're coming to the point, Wenham," he said.

"I tried my utmost to calm Lord Steyne. Good God! sir," I said, "how Iregret that Mrs. Wenham and myself had not accepted Mrs. Crawley'sinvitation to sup with her!"

"She asked you to sup with her?" Captain Macmurdo said.

"After the opera. Here's the note of invitation--stop--no, this isanother paper--I thought I had h, but it's of no consequence, and Ipledge you my word to the fact. If we had come--and it was only one ofMrs. Wenham's headaches which prevented us--she suffers under them agood deal, especially in the spring--if we had come, and you hadreturned home, there would have been no quarrel, no insult, nosuspicion--and so it is positively because my poor wife has a headachethat you are to bring death down upon two men of honour and plunge twoof the most excellent and ancient families in the kingdom into disgraceand sorrow."

Mr. Macmurdo looked at his principal with the air of a man profoundlypuzzled, and Rawdon felt with a kind of rage that his prey was escapinghim. He did not believe a word of the story, and yet, how discredit ordisprove it?

Mr. Wenham continued with the same fluent oratory, which in his placein Parliament he had so often practised--"I sat for an hour or more byLord Steyne's bedside, beseeching, imploring Lord Steyne to forego hisintention of demanding a meeting. I pointed out to him that thecircumstances were after all suspicious--they were suspicious. Iacknowledge it--any man in your position might have been taken in--Isaid that a man furious with jealousy is to all intents and purposes amadman, and should be as such regarded--that a duel between you mustlead to the disgrace of all parties concerned--that a man of hisLordship's exalted station had no right in these days, when the mostatrocious revolutionary principles, and the most dangerous levellingdoctrines are preached among the vulgar, to create a public scandal;and that, however innocent, the common people would insist that he wasguilty. In fine, I implored him not to send the challenge."

"I don't believe one word of the whole story," said Rawdon, grindinghis teeth. "I believe it a d------ lie, and that you're in it, Mr.Wenham. If the challenge don't come from him, by Jove it shall comefrom me."

Mr. Wenham turned deadly pale at this savage interruption of theColonel and looked towards the door.

But he found a champion in Captain Macmurdo. That gentleman rose upwith an oath and rebuked Rawdon for his language. "You put the affairinto my hands, and you shall act as I think fit, by Jove, and not asyou do. You have no right to insult Mr. Wenham with this sort oflanguage; and dammy, Mr. Wenham, you deserve an apology. And as for achallenge to Lord Steyne, you may get somebody else to carry it, Iwon't. If my lord, after being thrashed, chooses to sit still, dammylet him. And as for the affair with--with Mrs. Crawley, my belief is,there's nothing proved at all: that your wife's innocent, as innocentas Mr. Wenham says she is; and at any rate that you would be a d--foolnot to take the place and hold your tongue."

"Captain Macmurdo, you speak like a man of sense," Mr. Wenham criedout, immensely relieved--"I forget any words that Colonel Crawley hasused in the irritation of the moment."

"I thought you would," Rawdon said with a sneer.

"Shut your mouth, you old stoopid," the Captain said good-naturedly."Mr. Wenham ain't a fighting man; and quite right, too."

"This matter, in my belief," the Steyne emissary cried, "ought to beburied in the most profound oblivion. A word concerning it shouldnever pass these doors. I speak in the interest of my friend, as wellas of Colonel Crawley, who persists in considering me his enemy."

"I suppose Lord Steyne won't talk about it very much," said CaptainMacmurdo; "and I don't see why our side should. The affair ain't avery pretty one, any way you take it, and the less said about it thebetter. It's you are thrashed, and not us; and if you are satisfied,why, I think, we should be."

Mr. Wenham took his hat, upon this, and Captain Macmurdo following himto the door, shut it upon himself and Lord Steyne's agent, leavingRawdon chafing within. When the two were on the other side, Macmurdolooked hard at the other ambassador and with an expression of anythingbut respect on his round jolly face.

"You don't stick at a trifle, Mr. Wenham," he said.

"You flatter me, Captain Macmurdo," answered the other with a smile."Upon my honour and conscience now, Mrs. Crawley did ask us to supafter the opera."

"Of course; and Mrs. Wenham had one of her head-aches. I say, I've gota thousand-pound note here, which I will give you if you will give me areceipt, please; and I will put the note up in an envelope for LordSteyne. My man shan't fight him. But we had rather not take his money."

"It was all a mistake--all a mistake, my dear sir," the other said withthe utmost innocence of manner; and was bowed down the Club steps byCaptain Macmurdo, just as Sir Pitt Crawley ascended them. There was aslight acquaintance between these two gentlemen, and the Captain, goingback with the Baronet to the room where the latter's brother was, toldSir Pitt, in confidence, that he had made the affair all right betweenLord Steyne and the Colonel.

Sir Pitt was well pleased, of course, at this intelligence, andcongratulated his brother warmly upon the peaceful issue of the affair,making appropriate moral remarks upon the evils of duelling and theunsatisfactory nature of that sort of settlement of disputes.

And after this preface, he tried with all his eloquence to effect areconciliation between Rawdon and his wife. He recapitulated thestatements which Becky had made, pointed out the probabilities of theirtruth, and asserted his own firm belief in her innocence.

But Rawdon would not hear of it. "She has kep money concealed from methese ten years," he said "She swore, last night only, she had nonefrom Steyne. She knew it was all up, directly I found it. If she'snot guilty, Pitt, she's as bad as guilty, and I'll never see heragain--never." His head sank down on his chest as he spoke the words,and he looked quite broken and sad.

"Poor old boy," Macmurdo said, shaking his head.

Rawdon Crawley resisted for some time the idea of taking the placewhich had been procured for him by so odious a patron, and was also forremoving the boy from the school where Lord Steyne's interest hadplaced him. He was induced, however, to acquiesce in these benefits bythe entreaties of his brother and Macmurdo, but mainly by the latter,pointing out to him what a fury Steyne would be in to think that hisenemy's fortune was made through his means.

When the Marquis of Steyne came abroad after his accident, the ColonialSecretary bowed up to him and congratulated himself and the Serviceupon having made so excellent an appointment. These congratulationswere received with a degree of gratitude which may be imagined on thepart of Lord Steyne.

The secret of the rencontre between him and Colonel Crawley was buriedin the profoundest oblivion, as Wenham said; that is, by the secondsand the principals. But before that evening was over it was talked ofat fifty dinner-tables in Vanity Fair. Little Cackleby himself went toseven evening parties and told the story with comments and emendationsat each place. How Mrs. Washington White revelled in it! TheBishopess of Ealing was shocked beyond expression; the Bishop went andwrote his name down in the visiting-book at Gaunt House that very day.Little Southdown was sorry; so you may be sure was his sister LadyJane, very sorry. Lady Southdown wrote it off to her other daughter atthe Cape of Good Hope. It was town-talk for at least three days, andwas only kept out of the newspapers by the exertions of Mr. Wagg,acting upon a hint from Mr. Wenham.

The bailiffs and brokers seized upon poor Raggles in Curzon Street, andthe late fair tenant of that poor little mansion was in themeanwhile--where? Who cared! Who asked after a day or two? Was sheguilty or not? We all know how charitable the world is, and how theverdict of Vanity Fair goes when there is a doubt. Some people saidshe had gone to Naples in pursuit of Lord Steyne, whilst others averredthat his Lordship quitted that city and fled to Palermo on hearing ofBecky's arrival; some said she was living in Bierstadt, and had becomea dame d'honneur to the Queen of Bulgaria; some that she was atBoulogne; and others, at a boarding-house at Cheltenham.

Rawdon made her a tolerable annuity, and we may be sure that she was awoman who could make a little money go a great way, as the saying is.He would have paid his debts on leaving England, could he have got anyInsurance Office to take his life, but the climate of Coventry Islandwas so bad that he could borrow no money on the strength of his salary.He remitted, however, to his brother punctually, and wrote to hislittle boy regularly every mail. He kept Macmurdo in cigars and sentover quantities of shells, cayenne pepper, hot pickles, guava jelly,and colonial produce to Lady Jane. He sent his brother home the SwampTown Gazette, in which the new Governor was praised with immenseenthusiasm; whereas the Swamp Town Sentinel, whose wife was not askedto Government House, declared that his Excellency was a tyrant,compared to whom Nero was an enlightened philanthropist. Little Rawdonused to like to get the papers and read about his Excellency.

His mother never made any movement to see the child. He went home tohis aunt for Sundays and holidays; he soon knew every bird's nest aboutQueen's Crawley, and rode out with Sir Huddlestone's hounds, which headmired so on his first well-remembered visit to Hampshire.