The young ladies, too, lost much of the inestimable benefit of their governess's instruction, So affectionate a nurse was Miss Sharp, that Miss Crawley would take her medicines from no other hand.Firkin had been deposed long before her mistress's departure from the country.That faithful attendant found a gloomy consolation on returning to London, in seeing Miss Briggs suffer the same pangs of jealousy and undergo the same faithless treatment to which she herself had been subject.
Captain Rawdon got an extension of leave on his aunt's illness, and remained dutifully at home.He was always in her antechamber.(She lay sick in the state bedroom, into which you entered by the little blue saloon.) His father was always meeting him there; or if he came down the corridor ever so quietly, his father's door was sure to open, and the hyena face of the old gentleman to glare out.What was it set one to watch the other so? A generous rivalry, no doubt, as to which should be most attentive to the dear sufferer in the state bedroom.Rebecca used to come out and comfort both of them; or one or the other of them rather.Both of these worthy gentlemen were most anxious to have news of the invalid from her little confidential messenger.
At dinner--to which meal she descended for half an hour--she kept the peace between them: after which she disappeared for the night; when Rawdon would ride over to the depot of the 150th at Mudbury, leaving his papa to the society of Mr.Horrocks and his rum and water.
She passed as weary a fortnight as ever mortal spent in Miss Crawley's sick-room; but her little nerves seemed to be of iron, as she was quite unshaken by the duty and the tedium of the sick-chamber.
She never told until long afterwards how painful that duty was; how peevish a patient was the jovial old lady;how angry; how sleepless; in what horrors of death;during what long nights she lay moaning, and in almost delirious agonies respecting that future world which she quite ignored when she was in good health.--Picture to yourself, oh fair young reader, a worldly, selfish, graceless, thankless, religionless old woman, writhing in pain and fear, and without her wig.Picture her to yourself, and ere you be old, learn to love and pray!
Sharp watched this graceless bedside with indomitable patience.Nothing escaped her; and, like a prudent steward, she found a use for everything.She told many a good story about Miss Crawley's illness in after days--stories which made the lady blush through her artificial carnations.During the illness she was never out of temper; always alert; she slept light, having a perfectly clear conscience; and could take that refreshment at almost any minute's warning.And so you saw very few traces of fatigue in her appearance.Her face might be a trifle paler, and the circles round her eyes a little blacker than usual; but whenever she came out from the sick-room she was always smiling, fresh, and neat, and looked as trim in her little dressing-gown and cap, as in her smartest evening suit.
The Captain thought so, and raved about her in uncouth convulsions.The barbed shaft of love had penetrated his dull hide.Six weeks--appropinquity--opportunity--had victimised him completely.He made a confidante of his aunt at the Rectory, of all persons in the world.She rallied him about it; she had perceived his folly; she warned him; she finished by owning that little Sharp was the most clever, droll, odd, good-natured, simple, kindly creature in England.Rawdon must not trifle with her affections, though--dear Miss Crawley would never pardon him for that; for she, too, was quite overcome by the little governess, and loved Sharp like a daughter.Rawdon must go away--go back to his regiment and naughty London, and not play with a poor artless girl's feelings.
Many and many a time this good-natured lady, compassionating the forlorn life-guardsman's condition, gave him an opportunity of seeing Miss Sharp at the Rectory, and of walking home with her, as we have seen.When men of a certain sort, ladies, are in love, though they see the hook and the string, and the whole apparatus with which they are to be taken, they gorge the bait nevertheless--they must come to it--they must swallow it--and are presently struck and landed gasping.Rawdon saw there was a manifest intention on Mrs.Bute's part to captivate him with Rebecca.He was not very wise;but he was a man about town, and had seen several seasons.A light dawned upon his dusky soul, as he thought, through a speech of Mrs.Bute's.
"Mark my words, Rawdon," she said."You will have Miss Sharp one day for your relation.""What relation--my cousin, hey, Mrs.Bute? James sweet on her, hey?" inquired the waggish officer.
"More than that," Mrs.Bute said, with a flash from her black eyes.
"Not Pitt? He sha'n't have her.The sneak a'n't worthy of her.He's booked to Lady Jane Sheepshanks.""You men perceive nothing.You silly, blind creature --if anything happens to Lady Crawley, Miss Sharp will be your mother-in-law; and that's what will happen."Rawdon Crawley, Esquire, gave vent to a prodigious whistle, in token of astonishment at this announcement.
He couldn't deny it.His father's evident liking for Miss Sharp had not escaped him.He knew the old gentleman's character well; and a more unscrupulous old--whyou--he did not conclude the sentence, but walked home, curling his mustachios, and convinced he had found a clue to Mrs.Bute's mystery.
