Ярмарка тщеславия

Miss Crawley at Home

           Whenmenofacertainsort,ladies,areinlove,thoughtheyseethehookandthestring,andthewholeapparatuswithwhichtheyaretobetaken,theygorgethebaitnevertheless—theymustcometoit—theymustswallowit—andarepresentlystruckandlandedgasping.RawdonsawtherewasamanifestintentiononMrs.Bute’sparttocaptivatehimwithRebecca.Hewasnotverywise;buthewasamanabouttown,andhadseenseveralseasons.Alightdawneduponhisduskysoul,ashethought,throughaspeechofMrs.Bute’s.

           "Markmywords,Rawdon,"shesaid."YouwillhaveMissSharponedayforyourrelation."

           "Whatrelation—mycousin,hey,Mrs.Bute?Jamessweetonher,hey?"inquiredthewaggishofficer.

           "Morethanthat,"Mrs.Butesaid,withaflashfromherblackeyes.

           "NotPitt?Hesha’n’thaveher.Thesneaka’n’tworthyofher.He’sbookedtoLadyJaneSheepshanks."

           "Youmenperceivenothing.Yousilly,blindcreature—ifanythinghappenstoLadyCrawley,MissSharpwillbeyourmother-in-law;andthat’swhatwillhappen."

           RawdonCrawley,Esquire,gaveventtoaprodigiouswhistle,intokenofastonishmentatthisannouncement.Hecouldn’tdenyit.Hisfather’sevidentlikingforMissSharphadnotescapedhim.Heknewtheoldgentleman’scharacterwell;andamoreunscrupulousold—whyou—hedidnotconcludethesentence,butwalkedhome,curlinghismustachios,andconvincedhehadfoundacluetoMrs.

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