Vanity Fair - Page 446/573

When they were gone, I went down on my knees to Milor; told him we were

going to pawn everything, and begged and prayed him to give me two

hundred pounds. He pish'd and psha'd in a fury--told me not to be such

a fool as to pawn--and said he would see whether he could lend me the

money. At last he went away, promising that he would send it me in the

morning: when I will bring it to my poor old monster with a kiss from

his affectionate BECKY I am writing in bed. Oh I have such a headache and such a heartache!

When Rawdon read over this letter, he turned so red and looked so

savage that the company at the table d'hote easily perceived that bad

news had reached him. All his suspicions, which he had been trying to

banish, returned upon him. She could not even go out and sell her

trinkets to free him. She could laugh and talk about compliments paid

to her, whilst he was in prison. Who had put him there? Wenham had

walked with him. Was there.... He could hardly bear to think of what

he suspected. Leaving the room hurriedly, he ran into his own--opened

his desk, wrote two hurried lines, which he directed to Sir Pitt or

Lady Crawley, and bade the messenger carry them at once to Gaunt

Street, bidding him to take a cab, and promising him a guinea if he was

back in an hour.

In the note he besought his dear brother and sister, for the sake of

God, for the sake of his dear child and his honour, to come to him and

relieve him from his difficulty. He was in prison, he wanted a hundred

pounds to set him free--he entreated them to come to him.

He went back to the dining-room after dispatching his messenger and

called for more wine. He laughed and talked with a strange

boisterousness, as the people thought. Sometimes he laughed madly at

his own fears and went on drinking for an hour, listening all the while

for the carriage which was to bring his fate back.

At the expiration of that time, wheels were heard whirling up to the

gate--the young janitor went out with his gate-keys. It was a lady

whom he let in at the bailiff's door.

"Colonel Crawley," she said, trembling very much. He, with a knowing

look, locked the outer door upon her--then unlocked and opened the

inner one, and calling out, "Colonel, you're wanted," led her into the

back parlour, which he occupied.

Rawdon came in from the dining-parlour where all those people were

carousing, into his back room; a flare of coarse light following him

into the apartment where the lady stood, still very nervous.

"It is I, Rawdon," she said in a timid voice, which she strove to

render cheerful. "It is Jane." Rawdon was quite overcome by that kind

voice and presence. He ran up to her--caught her in his arms--gasped

out some inarticulate words of thanks and fairly sobbed on her

shoulder. She did not know the cause of his emotion.