Vanity Fair - Page 378/573

A great part of the altered demeanour and popularity of Sir Pitt

Crawley might have been traced to the counsels of that astute little

lady of Curzon Street. "You remain a Baronet--you consent to be a mere

country gentleman," she said to him, while he had been her guest in

London. "No, Sir Pitt Crawley, I know you better. I know your talents

and your ambition. You fancy you hide them both, but you can conceal

neither from me. I showed Lord Steyne your pamphlet on malt. He was

familiar with it, and said it was in the opinion of the whole Cabinet

the most masterly thing that had appeared on the subject. The Ministry

has its eye upon you, and I know what you want. You want to

distinguish yourself in Parliament; every one says you are the finest

speaker in England (for your speeches at Oxford are still remembered).

You want to be Member for the County, where, with your own vote and

your borough at your back, you can command anything. And you want to

be Baron Crawley of Queen's Crawley, and will be before you die. I saw

it all. I could read your heart, Sir Pitt. If I had a husband who

possessed your intellect as he does your name, I sometimes think I

should not be unworthy of him--but--but I am your kinswoman now," she

added with a laugh. "Poor little penniless, I have got a little

interest--and who knows, perhaps the mouse may be able to aid the

lion." Pitt Crawley was amazed and enraptured with her speech. "How

that woman comprehends me!" he said. "I never could get Jane to read

three pages of the malt pamphlet. She has no idea that I have

commanding talents or secret ambition. So they remember my speaking at

Oxford, do they? The rascals! Now that I represent my borough and may

sit for the county, they begin to recollect me! Why, Lord Steyne cut

me at the levee last year; they are beginning to find out that Pitt

Crawley is some one at last. Yes, the man was always the same whom

these people neglected: it was only the opportunity that was wanting,

and I will show them now that I can speak and act as well as write.

Achilles did not declare himself until they gave him the sword. I hold

it now, and the world shall yet hear of Pitt Crawley."

Therefore it was that this roguish diplomatist has grown so hospitable;

that he was so civil to oratorios and hospitals; so kind to Deans and

Chapters; so generous in giving and accepting dinners; so uncommonly

gracious to farmers on market-days; and so much interested about county

business; and that the Christmas at the Hall was the gayest which had

been known there for many a long day.