I say it's un-Christian. By Jove, it is. The
infamous dog has got every vice except hypocrisy, and that belongs
to his brother."
"Hush, my dearest love! we're in Sir Pitt's grounds," interposed his
wife.
"I say he has got every vice, Mrs. Crawley. Don't Ma'am, bully me.
Didn't he shoot Captain Marker? Didn't he rob young Lord Dovedale at
the Cocoa-Tree? Didn't he cross the fight between Bill Soames and
the Cheshire Trump, by which I lost forty pound? You know he did;
and as for the women, why, you heard that before me, in my own
magistrate's room."
"For heaven's sake, Mr. Crawley," said the lady, "spare me the
details."
"And you ask this villain into your house!" continued the
exasperated Rector. "You, the mother of a young family--the wife of
a clergyman of the Church of England. By Jove!"
"Bute Crawley, you are a fool," said the Rector's wife scornfully.
"Well, Ma'am, fool or not--and I don't say, Martha, I'm so clever as
you are, I never did. But I won't meet Rawdon Crawley, that's flat.
I'll go over to Huddleston, that I will, and see his black
greyhound, Mrs. Crawley; and I'll run Lancelot against him for
fifty. By Jove, I will; or against any dog in England. But I won't
meet that beast Rawdon Crawley."
"Mr. Crawley, you are intoxicated, as usual," replied his wife. And
the next morning, when the Rector woke, and called for small beer,
she put him in mind of his promise to visit Sir Huddleston
Fuddleston on Saturday, and as he knew he should have a wet night,
it was agreed that he might gallop back again in time for church on
Sunday morning.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173