Sir Pitt knows I am married, and not knowing to whom,
is not very much displeased as yet. Ma tante
is actuallyangry that I should have refused
him. But she is all kindness and graciousness.
She condescends to say I would have made him a good
wife; and vows that she will be a mother to your little
Rebecca. She will be shaken when she first hears
the news. But need we fear anything beyond a
momentary anger? I think not: I amsure not. She dotes upon you so (you naughty,
good-for-nothing man), that she would pardon you anything:
and, indeed, I believe, the next place in her heart
is mine: and that she would be miserable without
me. Dearest! something tellsme we
shall conquer. You shall leave that odious regiment:
quit gaming, racing, and be A goodboy;
and we shall all live in Park Lane, and ma tante shall
leave us all her money.
I shall try and walk to-morrow at 3 in the usual place.
If Miss B. accompanies me, you must come to dinner,
and bring an answer, and put it in the third volume
of Porteus’s Sermons. But, at all events,
come to your own
R.
To Miss Eliza Styles, At Mr. Barnet’s, Saddler,
Knightsbridge.
And I trust there is no reader of this little story
who has not discernment enough to perceive that the
Miss Eliza Styles (an old schoolfellow, Rebecca said,
with whom she had resumed an active correspondence
of late, and who used to fetch these letters from the
saddler’s), wore brass spurs, and large curling
mustachios, and was indeed no other than Captain Rawdon
Crawley.
CHAPTER XVI
The Letter on the Pincushion
How they were married is not of the slightest consequence
to anybody. What is to hinder a Captain who
is a major, and a young lady who is of age, from purchasing
a licence, and uniting themselves at any church in
this town? Who needs to be told, that if a woman
has a will she will assuredly find a way?—My
belief is that one day, when Miss Sharp had gone to
pass the forenoon with her dear friend Miss Amelia
Sedley in Russell Square, a lady very like her might
have been seen entering a church in the City, in company
with a gentleman with dyed mustachios, who, after a
quarter of an hour’s interval, escorted her
back to the hackney-coach in waiting, and that this
was a quiet bridal party.
And who on earth, after the daily experience we have,
can question the probability of a gentleman marrying
anybody? How many of the wise and learned have
married their cooks? Did not Lord Eldon himself,
the most prudent of men, make a runaway match?
Were not Achilles and Ajax both in love with their
servant maids? And are we to expect a heavy dragoon
with strong desires and small brains, who had never
controlled a passion in his life, to become prudent
all of a sudden, and to refuse to pay any price for
an indulgence to which he had a mind? If people
only made prudent marriages, what a stop to population
there would be!
