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“Generosity be hanged!” Sir Pitt roared out. “Who is it to, then, you’re married? Where was it?”
“Let me come back with you to the country, sir! Let me watch over you as faithfully as ever! Don’t, don’t separate me from dear Queen’s Crawley!”
“The feller has left you, has he?” the Baronet said, beginning, as he fancied, to comprehend. “Well, Becky – come back if you like.
“Oh, sir! it would be the pride of my life to go back to Queen’s Crawley, and take care of the children, and of you as formerly, when you said you were pleased with the services of your little Rebecca. I can’t be your wife, sir; let me – let me be your daughter.” Saying which, Rebecca went down on HER knees in a most tragical way.
Miss Crawley was astonished by Becky’s rejection of Sir Pitt. “Nonsense, my dear, you would never have refused him had there not been someone else in the case,” Miss Crawley said, coming to her point at once. “Tell me the private reasons. There is someone; who is it that has touched your heart?”
Rebecca cast down her eyes. “You have guessed right, dear lady,” she said.
“My poor dear child,” cried Miss Crawley, who was always quite ready to be sentimental, “Tell me all, and let me console you.”
“I wish you could, dear Madam,” Rebecca said in the same tearful tone. And she laid her head upon Miss Crawley’s shoulder and wept there so naturally that the old lady, surprised into sympathy, embraced her with an almost maternal kindness. Rebecca wrote a letter later that day promising to her recipient that she would make the Old Miss Crawley adopt her and provide them a happy life and inheritance.
And the person who used to fetch these letters was indeed no other than Captain Rawdon Crawley.
