Vanity Fair - Page 177/573

"Don't be leading our husbands into mischief, Mr. Sedley, you wicked,

wicked man you," Rebecca said, shaking at Jos a pretty little finger

covered with the neatest French kid glove. "No billiards, no smoking,

no naughtiness!"

"My dear Mrs. Crawley--Ah now! upon my honour!" was all Jos could

ejaculate by way of reply; but he managed to fall into a tolerable

attitude, with his head lying on his shoulder, grinning upwards at his

victim, with one hand at his back, which he supported on his cane, and

the other hand (the one with the diamond ring) fumbling in his

shirt-frill and among his under-waistcoats. As the carriage drove off

he kissed the diamond hand to the fair ladies within. He wished all

Cheltenham, all Chowringhee, all Calcutta, could see him in that

position, waving his hand to such a beauty, and in company with such a

famous buck as Rawdon Crawley of the Guards.

Our young bride and bridegroom had chosen Brighton as the place where

they would pass the first few days after their marriage; and having

engaged apartments at the Ship Inn, enjoyed themselves there in great

comfort and quietude, until Jos presently joined them. Nor was he the

only companion they found there. As they were coming into the hotel

from a sea-side walk one afternoon, on whom should they light but

Rebecca and her husband. The recognition was immediate. Rebecca flew

into the arms of her dearest friend. Crawley and Osborne shook hands

together cordially enough: and Becky, in the course of a very few

hours, found means to make the latter forget that little unpleasant

passage of words which had happened between them. "Do you remember the

last time we met at Miss Crawley's, when I was so rude to you, dear

Captain Osborne? I thought you seemed careless about dear Amelia. It

was that made me angry: and so pert: and so unkind: and so ungrateful.

Do forgive me!" Rebecca said, and she held out her hand with so frank

and winning a grace, that Osborne could not but take it. By humbly and

frankly acknowledging yourself to be in the wrong, there is no knowing,

my son, what good you may do. I knew once a gentleman and very worthy

practitioner in Vanity Fair, who used to do little wrongs to his

neighbours on purpose, and in order to apologise for them in an open

and manly way afterwards--and what ensued? My friend Crocky Doyle was

liked everywhere, and deemed to be rather impetuous--but the honestest

fellow. Becky's humility passed for sincerity with George Osborne.

These two young couples had plenty of tales to relate to each other.

The marriages of either were discussed; and their prospects in life

canvassed with the greatest frankness and interest on both sides.

George's marriage was to be made known to his father by his friend

Captain Dobbin; and young Osborne trembled rather for the result of

that communication. Miss Crawley, on whom all Rawdon's hopes depended,

still held out. Unable to make an entry into her house in Park Lane,

her affectionate nephew and niece had followed her to Brighton, where

they had emissaries continually planted at her door.