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Updated: July 3, 2025
Can't you tear yourself away from your shining knight?" Silence. "Becky oh, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry Becky " Her answer came faintly, "I'll come." "What's the matter with the wire? I can't hear you." There was nothing the matter with the wire. The thing that was the matter was Becky's voice. She found it suddenly unmanageable. "We'll come," she told him finally, and hung up the receiver.
Her old mattress and pillow had been removed to Becky's bedstead, and, consequently, with these additions Becky had been supplied with unheard-of comfort. "Where does it all come from?" Becky broke forth once. "Laws, who does it, miss?" "Don't let us even ASK," said Sara. "If it were not that I want to say, 'Oh, thank you, I would rather not know. It makes it more beautiful."
What a wilderness of feathers and patchwork! Some of Miss Becky's work was there. The bureaus nearly to ceilings, ornamented with round glass knobs, had their little mirrors perched up above my head. The candle stands, with spindle legs, wore an antediluvian look, and the chairs were just as queer. The more aspiring ones were prim in starched antimaccassars.
Becky's former acquaintances hated and envied her; the poor woman herself was yawning in spirit. "I wish I were out of it," she said to herself. "I would rather be a parson's wife and teach a Sunday school than this; or a sergeant's lady and ride in the regimental waggon; or, oh, how much gayer it would be to wear spangles and trousers and dance before a booth at a fair."
"You never kiss me at home, Mamma," he said, at which there was a general silence and consternation and a by no means pleasant look in Becky's eyes. Rawdon was fond of his sister-in-law, for her regard for his son. Lady Jane and Becky did not get on quite so well at this visit as on occasion of the former one, when the Colonel's wife was bent upon pleasing.
As soon as William heard that cousin Becky's property had been left to him, though of course he was ignorant of its value, he entreated that he might give it to Old Moggy to make her comfortable. "What, all, Willie? all your fortune?" asked his father, with a feeling of pleasure about his heart.
After Becky's appearance at my Lord Steyne's private and select parties, the claims of that estimable woman as regards fashion were settled, and some of the very greatest and tallest doors in the metropolis were speedily opened to her doors so great and tall that the beloved reader and writer hereof may hope in vain to enter at them. Dear brethren, let us tremble before those august portals.
She thought, it might be, of her master's words, "Fallen Cherub! to be weak is to be miserable!" and wondered how we could be such fools as first to sin and then to be sorry. Becky's light was defective, but she acted up to it. Her goodness goes as far as good temper, and her principles as far as shrewd sense, and we may thank her consistency for showing us what they are both worth.
But without using Thackeray's licence a novelist may still do his story an ill turn by leaving too naked a contrast between the subjective picture of what passes through Emma's mind Emma's or Becky's, as it may be and the objective rendering of what he sees for himself, between the experience that is mirrored in another thought and that which is shaped in his own.
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