“You are as worldly as Miss Crawley, Pitt,”
said Lady Emily, tossing out of the room, her books
in her hand.
“And I need not tell you, my dear Lady Southdown,”
Pitt continued, in a low voice, and without heeding
the interruption, “how fatal a little want of
gentleness and caution may be to any hopes which we
may entertain with regard to the worldly possessions
of my aunt. Remember she has seventy thousand
pounds; think of her age, and her highly nervous and
delicate condition; I know that she has destroyed
the will which was made in my brother’s (Colonel
Crawley’s) favour: it is by soothing that
wounded spirit that we must lead it into the right
path, and not by frightening it; and so I think you
will agree with me that—that—’
“Of course, of course,” Lady Southdown
remarked. “Jane, my love, you need not
send that note to Mr. Irons. If her health is
such that discussions fatigue her, we will wait her
amendment. I will call upon Miss Crawley tomorrow.”
“And if I might suggest, my sweet lady,”
Pitt said in a bland tone, “it would be as well
not to take our precious Emily, who is too enthusiastic;
but rather that you should be accompanied by our sweet
and dear Lady Jane.”
“Most certainly, Emily would ruin everything,”
Lady Southdown said; and this time agreed to forego
her usual practice, which was, as we have said, before
she bore down personally upon any individual whom
she proposed to subjugate, to fire in a quantity of
tracts upon the menaced party (as a charge of the
French was always preceded by a furious cannonade).
Lady Southdown, we say, for the sake of the invalid’s
health, or for the sake of her soul’s ultimate
welfare, or for the sake of her money, agreed to temporise.
The next day, the great Southdown female family carriage,
with the Earl’s coronet and the lozenge (upon
which the three lambs trottant argent upon the field
vert of the Southdowns, were quartered with sable
on a bend or, three snuff-mulls gules, the cognizance
of the house of Binkie), drove up in state to Miss
Crawley’s door, and the tall serious footman
handed in to Mr. Bowls her Ladyship’s cards for
Miss Crawley, and one likewise for Miss Briggs.
By way of compromise, Lady Emily sent in a packet
in the evening for the latter lady, containing copies
of the “Washerwoman,” and other mild and
favourite tracts for Miss B.’s own perusal; and
a few for the servants’ hall, viz.:
“Crumbs from the Pantry,” “The Frying
Pan and the Fire,” and “The Livery of
Sin,” of a much stronger kind.
James Crawley’s Pipe Is Put Out
