. He did not know how
solitary he was until little Rawdon was gone. He liked the people who
were fond of him, and would go and sit for long hours with his
good-natured sister Lady Jane, and talk to her about the virtues, and
good looks, and hundred good qualities of the child.

Young Rawdon's aunt, we have said, was very fond of him, as was her
little girl, who wept copiously when the time for her cousin's
departure came. The elder Rawdon was thankful for the fondness of
mother and daughter. The very best and honestest feelings of the man
came out in these artless outpourings of paternal feeling in which he
indulged in their presence, and encouraged by their sympathy. He
secured not only Lady Jane's kindness, but her sincere regard, by the
feelings which he manifested, and which he could not show to his own
wife. The two kinswomen met as seldom as possible. Becky laughed
bitterly at Jane's feelings and softness; the other's kindly and gentle
nature could not but revolt at her sister's callous behaviour.

It estranged Rawdon from his wife more than he knew or acknowledged to
himself. She did not care for the estrangement. Indeed, she did not
miss him or anybody. She looked upon him as her errand-man and humble
slave. He might be ever so depressed or sulky, and she did not mark
his demeanour, or only treated it with a sneer. She was busy thinking
about her position, or her pleasures, or her advancement in society;
she ought to have held a great place in it, that is certain.

It was honest Briggs who made up the little kit for the boy which he
was to take to school. Molly, the housemaid, blubbered in the passage
when he went away--Molly kind and faithful in spite of a long arrear of
unpaid wages. Mrs. Becky could not let her husband have the carriage
to take the boy to school. Take the horses into the City!--such a
thing was never heard of. Let a cab be brought. She did not offer to
kiss him when he went, nor did the child propose to embrace her; but
gave a kiss to old Briggs (whom, in general, he was very shy of
caressing), and consoled her by pointing out that he was to come home
on Saturdays, when she would have the benefit of seeing him. As the
cab rolled towards the City, Becky's carriage rattled off to the park.
She was chattering and laughing with a score of young dandies by the
Serpentine as the father and son entered at the old gates of the
school--where Rawdon left the child and came away with a