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What
were
her
thoughts
when
he
left
her
?
She
remained
for
hours
after
he
was
gone
,
the
sunshine
pouring
into
the
room
,
and
Rebecca
sitting
alone
on
the
bed
's
edge
.
The
drawers
were
all
opened
and
their
contents
scattered
about
--
dresses
and
feathers
,
scarfs
and
trinkets
,
a
heap
of
tumbled
vanities
lying
in
a
wreck
.
Her
hair
was
falling
over
her
shoulders
;
her
gown
was
torn
where
Rawdon
had
wrenched
the
brilliants
out
of
it
.
She
heard
him
go
downstairs
a
few
minutes
after
he
left
her
,
and
the
door
slamming
and
closing
on
him
.
She
knew
he
would
never
come
back
.
He
was
gone
forever
.
Would
he
kill
himself
?
--
she
thought
--
not
until
after
he
had
met
Lord
Steyne
.
She
thought
of
her
long
past
life
,
and
all
the
dismal
incidents
of
it
Ah
,
how
dreary
it
seemed
,
how
miserable
,
lonely
and
profitless
!
Should
she
take
laudanum
,
and
end
it
,
to
have
done
with
all
hopes
,
schemes
,
debts
,
and
triumphs
?
The
French
maid
found
her
in
this
position
--
sitting
in
the
midst
of
her
miserable
ruins
with
clasped
hands
and
dry
eyes
.
The
woman
was
her
accomplice
and
in
Steyne
's
pay
.
"
Mon
Dieu
,
madame
,
what
has
happened
?
"
she
asked
.
What
had
happened
?
Was
she
guilty
or
not
?
She
said
not
,
but
who
could
tell
what
was
truth
which
came
from
those
lips
,
or
if
that
corrupt
heart
was
in
this
case
pure
?
All
her
lies
and
her
schemes
,
an
her
selfishness
and
her
wiles
,
all
her
wit
and
genius
had
come
to
this
bankruptcy
.
The
woman
closed
the
curtains
and
,
with
some
entreaty
and
show
of
kindness
,
persuaded
her
mistress
to
lie
down
on
the
bed
.
Then
she
went
below
and
gathered
up
the
trinkets
which
had
been
lying
on
the
floor
since
Rebecca
dropped
them
there
at
her
husband
's
orders
,
and
Lord
Steyne
went
away
.
The
mansion
of
Sir
Pitt
Crawley
,
in
Great
Gaunt
Street
,
was
just
beginning
to
dress
itself
for
the
day
,
as
Rawdon
,
in
his
evening
costume
,
which
he
had
now
worn
two
days
,
passed
by
the
scared
female
who
was
scouring
the
steps
and
entered
into
his
brother
's
study
.
Lady
Jane
,
in
her
morning-gown
,
was
up
and
above
stairs
in
the
nursery
superintending
the
toilettes
of
her
children
and
listening
to
the
morning
prayers
which
the
little
creatures
performed
at
her
knee
.
Every
morning
she
and
they
performed
this
duty
privately
,
and
before
the
public
ceremonial
at
which
Sir
Pitt
presided
and
at
which
all
the
people
of
the
household
were
expected
to
assemble
.
Rawdon
sat
down
in
the
study
before
the
Baronet
's
table
,
set
out
with
the
orderly
blue
books
and
the
letters
,
the
neatly
docketed
bills
and
symmetrical
pamphlets
,
the
locked
account-books
,
desks
,
and
dispatch
boxes
,
the
Bible
,
the
Quarterly
Review
,
and
the
Court
Guide
,
which
all
stood
as
if
on
parade
awaiting
the
inspection
of
their
chief
.
A
book
of
family
sermons
,
one
of
which
Sir
Pitt
was
in
the
habit
of
administering
to
his
family
on
Sunday
mornings
,
lay
ready
on
the
study
table
,
and
awaiting
his
judicious
selection
.
And
by
the
sermon-book
was
the
Observer
newspaper
,
damp
and
neatly
folded
,
and
for
Sir
Pitt
's
own
private
use
.
His
gentleman
alone
took
the
opportunity
of
perusing
the
newspaper
before
he
laid
it
by
his
master
's
desk
.
Before
he
had
brought
it
into
the
study
that
morning
,
he
had
read
in
the
journal
a
flaming
account
of
"
Festivities
at
Gaunt
House
,
"
with
the
names
of
all
the
distinguished
personages
invited
by
tho
Marquis
of
Steyne
to
meet
his
Royal
Highness
.
Having
made
comments
upon
this
entertainment
to
the
housekeeper
and
her
niece
as
they
were
taking
early
tea
and
hot
buttered
toast
in
the
former
lady
's
apartment
,
and
wondered
how
the
Rawding
Crawleys
could
git
on
,
the
valet
had
damped
and
folded
the
paper
once
more
,
so
that
it
looked
quite
fresh
and
innocent
against
the
arrival
of
the
master
of
the
house
.
Poor
Rawdon
took
up
the
paper
and
began
to
try
and
read
it
until
his
brother
should
arrive
.
But
the
print
fell
blank
upon
his
eyes
,
and
he
did
not
know
in
the
least
what
he
was
reading
.
The
Government
news
and
appointments
(
which
Sir
Pitt
as
a
public
man
was
bound
to
peruse
,
otherwise
he
would
by
no
means
permit
the
introduction
of
Sunday
papers
into
his
household
)
,
the
theatrical
criticisms
,
the
fight
for
a
hundred
pounds
a
side
between
the
Barking
Butcher
and
the
Tutbury
Pet
,
the
Gaunt
House
chronicle
itself
,
which
contained
a
most
complimentary
though
guarded
account
of
the
famous
charades
of
which
Mrs.
Becky
had
been
the
heroine
--
all
these
passed
as
in
a
haze
before
Rawdon
,
as
he
sat
waiting
the
arrival
of
the
chief
of
the
family
.
Punctually
,
as
the
shrill-toned
bell
of
the
black
marble
study
clock
began
to
chime
nine
,
Sir
Pitt
made
his
appearance
,
fresh
,
neat
,
smugly
shaved
,
with
a
waxy
clean
face
,
and
stiff
shirt
collar
,
his
scanty
hair
combed
and
oiled
,
trimming
his
nails
as
he
descended
the
stairs
majestically
,
in
a
starched
cravat
and
a
grey
flannel
dressing-gown
--
a
real
old
English
gentleman
,
in
a
word
--
a
model
of
neatness
and
every
propriety
.
He
started
when
he
saw
poor
Rawdon
in
his
study
in
tumbled
clothes
,
with
blood-shot
eyes
,
and
his
hair
over
his
face
.
He
thought
his
brother
was
not
sober
,
and
had
been
out
all
night
on
some
orgy
.
"
Good
gracious
,
Rawdon
,
"
he
said
,
with
a
blank
face
,
"
what
brings
you
here
at
this
time
of
the
morning
?
Why
ai
n't
you
at
home
?
"
"
Home
,
"
said
Rawdon
with
a
wild
laugh
.
"
Do
n't
be
frightened
,
Pitt
.
I
'm
not
drunk
.
Shut
the
door
;
I
want
to
speak
to
you
.
"
