Vanity Fair - Page 284/573

James Crawley, when his aunt had last beheld him, was a gawky lad, at

that uncomfortable age when the voice varies between an unearthly

treble and a preternatural bass; when the face not uncommonly blooms

out with appearances for which Rowland's Kalydor is said to act as a

cure; when boys are seen to shave furtively with their sister's

scissors, and the sight of other young women produces intolerable

sensations of terror in them; when the great hands and ankles protrude

a long way from garments which have grown too tight for them; when

their presence after dinner is at once frightful to the ladies, who are

whispering in the twilight in the drawing-room, and inexpressibly

odious to the gentlemen over the mahogany, who are restrained from

freedom of intercourse and delightful interchange of wit by the

presence of that gawky innocence; when, at the conclusion of the second

glass, papa says, "Jack, my boy, go out and see if the evening holds

up," and the youth, willing to be free, yet hurt at not being yet a

man, quits the incomplete banquet. James, then a hobbadehoy, was now

become a young man, having had the benefits of a university education,

and acquired the inestimable polish which is gained by living in a fast

set 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 his

aunt at Brighton, and good looks were always a title to the fickle old

lady's favour. Nor did his blushes and awkwardness take away from it:

she was pleased with these healthy tokens of the young gentleman's

ingenuousness.

He said "he had come down for a couple of days to see a man of his

college, and--and to pay my respects to you, Ma'am, and my father's and

mother's, who hope you are well."

Pitt was in the room with Miss Crawley when the lad was announced, and

looked very blank when his name was mentioned. The old lady had plenty

of humour, and enjoyed her correct nephew's perplexity. She asked

after all the people at the Rectory with great interest; and said she

was 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 a

pity his sisters had not some of his good looks; and finding, on

inquiry, that he had taken up his quarters at an hotel, would not hear

of his stopping there, but bade Mr. Bowls send for Mr. James Crawley's

things instantly; "and hark ye, Bowls," she added, with great

graciousness, "you will have the goodness to pay Mr. James's bill."

She flung Pitt a look of arch triumph, which caused that diplomatist

almost to choke with envy. Much as he had ingratiated himself with his

aunt, she had never yet invited him to stay under her roof, and here

was a young whipper-snapper, who at first sight was made welcome there.