. »We're the only three Christians in
the county, my love« - in which case, it must be confessed, that religion was at
a very low ebb in the county of Hants.
    Besides being such a fine religionist, Miss Crawley was, as we have said, an
Ultra-liberal in opinions, and always took occasion to express these in the most
candid manner.
    »What is birth, my dear?« she would say to Rebecca. »Look at my brother
Pitt; look at the Huddlestons, who have been here since Henry II.; look at poor
Bute at the parsonage; - is any one of them equal to you in intelligence or
breeding? Equal to you - they are not even equal to poor, dear Briggs, my
companion, or Bowls, my butler. You, my love, are a little paragon - positively
a little jewel - you have more brains than half the shire - if merit had its
reward, you ought to be a duchess - no, there ought to be no duchesses at all -
but you ought to have no superior, and I consider you, my love, as my equal in
every respect; and - will you put some coals on the fire, my dear; and will you
pick this dress of mine, and alter it, you who can do it so well?« So this old
philanthropist used to make her equal run of her errands, execute her millinery,
and read her to sleep with French novels every night.
    At this time, as some old readers may recollect, the genteel world had been
thrown into a considerable state of excitement by two events, which, as the
papers say, might give employment to the gentlemen of the long robe. Ensign
Shafton had run away with Lady Barbara Fitzurse, the Earl of Bruin's daughter
and heiress; and poor Vere Vane, a gentleman who, up to forty, had maintained a
most respectable character and reared a numerous family, suddenly and
outrageously left his home, for the sake of Mrs. Rougemont, the actress, who was
sixty-five years of age.
    »That was the most beautiful part of dear Lord Nelson's character,« Miss
Crawley said: »he went to the deuce for a woman. There must be good in a man who
will do that. I adore all imprudent matches. What I like best is for a nobleman
to marry a miller's daughter, as Lord Flowerdale did; it makes all the women so
angry. I wish some great man would run away with you, my
