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He
stood
still
watching
,
and
very
much
interested
at
the
scene
;
but
Emmy
sprang
forward
with
open
arms
towards
Rebecca
,
and
forgave
her
at
that
moment
,
and
embraced
her
and
kissed
her
with
all
her
heart
.
Ah
,
poor
wretch
,
when
was
your
lip
pressed
before
by
such
pure
kisses
?
Frankness
and
kindness
like
Amelia
's
were
likely
to
touch
even
such
a
hardened
little
reprobate
as
Becky
.
She
returned
Emmy
's
caresses
and
kind
speeches
with
something
very
like
gratitude
,
and
an
emotion
which
,
if
it
was
not
lasting
,
for
a
moment
was
almost
genuine
.
That
was
a
lucky
stroke
of
hers
about
the
child
"
torn
from
her
arms
shrieking
.
"
It
was
by
that
harrowing
misfortune
that
Becky
had
won
her
friend
back
,
and
it
was
one
of
the
very
first
points
,
we
may
be
certain
,
upon
which
our
poor
simple
little
Emmy
began
to
talk
to
her
new-found
acquaintance
.
"
And
so
they
took
your
darling
child
from
you
?
"
our
simpleton
cried
out
.
"
Oh
,
Rebecca
,
my
poor
dear
suffering
friend
,
I
know
what
it
is
to
lose
a
boy
,
and
to
feel
for
those
who
have
lost
one
.
But
please
Heaven
yours
will
be
restored
to
you
,
as
a
merciful
merciful
Providence
has
brought
me
back
mine
.
"
"
The
child
,
my
child
?
Oh
,
yes
,
my
agonies
were
frightful
,
"
Becky
owned
,
not
perhaps
without
a
twinge
of
conscience
.
It
jarred
upon
her
to
be
obliged
to
commence
instantly
to
tell
lies
in
reply
to
so
much
confidence
and
simplicity
.
But
that
is
the
misfortune
of
beginning
with
this
kind
of
forgery
.
When
one
fib
becomes
due
as
it
were
,
you
must
forge
another
to
take
up
the
old
acceptance
;
and
so
the
stock
of
your
lies
in
circulation
inevitably
multiplies
,
and
the
danger
of
detection
increases
every
day
.
"
My
agonies
,
"
Becky
continued
,
"
were
terrible
(
I
hope
she
wo
n't
sit
down
on
the
bottle
)
when
they
took
him
away
from
me
;
I
thought
I
should
die
;
but
I
fortunately
had
a
brain
fever
,
during
which
my
doctor
gave
me
up
,
and
--
and
I
recovered
,
and
--
and
here
I
am
,
poor
and
friendless
.
"
"
How
old
is
he
?
"
Emmy
asked
.
"
Eleven
,
"
said
Becky
.
"
Eleven
!
"
cried
the
other
.
"
Why
,
he
was
born
the
same
year
with
Georgy
,
who
is
--
"
"
I
know
,
I
know
,
"
Becky
cried
out
,
who
had
in
fact
quite
forgotten
all
about
little
Rawdon
's
age
.
"
Grief
has
made
me
forget
so
many
things
,
dearest
Amelia
.
I
am
very
much
changed
:
half-wild
sometimes
.
He
was
eleven
when
they
took
him
away
from
me
.
Bless
his
sweet
face
;
I
have
never
seen
it
again
.
"
"
Was
he
fair
or
dark
?
"
went
on
that
absurd
little
Emmy
.
"
Show
me
his
hair
.
"
