Page 635 - vanity-fair

thought I heard a moan-like, Sir Pitt—and—and—and—‘
She dropped another curtsey.
What was it that made Pitt’s pale face flush quite red?
Was it because he was Sir Pitt at last, with a seat in Parlia-
ment, and perhaps future honours in prospect? ‘I’ll clear the
estate now with the ready money,’ he thought and rapidly
calculated its incumbrances and the improvements which
he would make. He would not use his aunt’s money previ-
ously lest Sir Pitt should recover and his outlay be in vain.
All the blinds were pulled down at the Hall and Rec-
tory: the church bell was tolled, and the chancel hung in
black; and Bute Crawley didn’t go to a coursing meeting,
but went and dined quietly at Fuddleston, where they talk-
ed about his deceased brother and young Sir Pitt over their
port. Miss Betsy, who was by this time married to a sad-
dler at Mudbury, cried a good deal. The family surgeon rode
over and paid his respectful compliments, and inquiries for
the health of their ladyships. The death was talked about
at Mudbury and at the Crawley Arms, the landlord where-
of had become reconciled with the Rector of late, who was
occasionally known to step into the parlour and taste Mr.
Horrocks’ mild beer.
‘Shall I write to your brother—or will you?’ asked Lady
Jane of her husband, Sir Pitt.
‘I will write, of course,’ Sir Pitt said, ‘and invite him to
the funeral: it will be but becoming.’
‘And—and—Mrs. Rawdon,’ said Lady Jane timidly.
‘Jane!’ said Lady Southdown, ‘how can you think of such
a thing?’

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