ou
shall do what you like, spend what you like, and have it all
your own way. I'll make you a settlement. I'll do everything
regular. Look here," and the old man fell down on his knees
and leered at her like a satyr.

But Rebecca, though she had been angling, angling for favour and love
and power, had not expected this. For once in her life she loses her
presence of mind, and exclaims: "Oh Sir Pitt; oh sir; I--I'm married
already!" She has married Rawdon Crawley, Sir Pitt's younger son, Miss
Crawley's favourite among those of her family who are looking for her
money. But she keeps her secret for the present, and writes a charming
letter to the Captain; "Dearest,--Something tells me that we shall
conquer. You shall leave that odious regiment. Quit gaming, racing, and
be a good boy, and we shall all live in Park Lane, and _ma tante_ shall
leave us all her money." _Ma tante's_ money has been in her mind all
through, but yet she loves him.

"Suppose the old lady doesn't come to," Rawdon said to his
little wife as they sat together in the snug little Brompton
lodgings. She had been trying the new piano all the morning.
The new gloves fitted her to a nicety. The new shawl became
her wonderfully. The new rings glittered on her little hands,
and the new watch ticked at her waist.

"_I'll_ make your fortune," she said; and Delilah patted
Samson's cheek.

"You can do anything," he said, kissing the little hand. "By
Jove you can! and we'll drive down to the Star and Garter and
dine, by Jove!"

They were neither of them quite heartless at that moment, nor did Rawdon
ever become quite bad. Then follow the adventures of Becky as a married
woman, through all of which there is a glimmer of love for her stupid
husband, while it is the real purpose of her heart to get money how she
may,--by her charms, by her wit, by her lies, by her readiness. She
makes love to everyone,--even to her sanctimonious brother-in-law, who
becomes Sir Pitt in his time,--and always succeeds. But in her
love-making there is nothing of love. She gets hold of that
well-remembered old reprobate, the Marquis of Steyne, who possesses the
two valuable gifts of being very dissolute and very rich, and from him
she obtains money and jewels to her heart's desire. The abominations of
Lord Steyne are depicted in the strongest language of which _Vanity
Fair_ admits. The reader's hair stands al