Rawdon thanked his sister a hundred times, and with an ardour of gratitude which touched and almost alarmed that soft-hearted woman.
"Oh," said he, in his rude, artless way, "you--you don't know how I'm changed since I've known you, and--and little Rawdy.
I--I'd like to change somehow.
You see I want--I want--to be--" He did not finish the sentence, but she could interpret it.
And that night after he left her, and as she sat by her own little boy's bed, she prayed humbly for that poor way-worn sinner.
Rawdon left her and walked home rapidly.
It was nine o'clock at night.
He ran across the streets and the great squares of Vanity Fair, and at length came up breathless opposite his own house.
He started back and fell against the railings, trembling as he looked up. The drawing-room windows were blazing with light. She had said that she was in bed and ill.
He stood there for some time, the light from the rooms on his pale face.
He took out his door-key and let himself into the house.
He could hear laughter in the upper rooms.
He was in the ball-dress in which he had been captured the night before.
He went silently up the stairs, leaning against the banisters at the stair-head.
Nobody was stirring in the house besides--all the servants had been sent away.
Rawdon heard laughter within--laughter and singing.
Becky was singing a snatch of the song of the night before; a hoarse voice shouted
"Brava! Brava!"--it was Lord Steyne's.
Rawdon opened the door and went in.
A little table with a dinner was laid out--and wine and plate.
Steyne was hanging over the sofa on which Becky sat.
The wretched woman was in a brilliant full toilette, her arms and all her fingers sparkling with bracelets and rings, and the brilliants on her breast which Steyne had given her.
He had her hand in his, and was bowing over it to kiss it, when Becky started up with a faint scream as she caught sight of Rawdon's white face.
At the next instant she tried a smile, a horrid smile, as if to welcome her husband; and Steyne rose up, grinding his teeth, pale, and with fury in his looks.
He, too, attempted a laugh--and came forward holding out his hand.
"What, come back!
How d'ye do, Crawley?" he said, the nerves of his mouth twitching as he tried to grin at the intruder.
There was that in Rawdon's face which caused Becky to fling herself before him.
"I am innocent, Rawdon," she said; "before God, I am innocent."
She clung hold of his coat, of his hands; her own were all covered with serpents, and rings, and baubles.
"I am innocent.
Say I am innocent," she said to Lord Steyne.
He thought a trap had been laid for him, and was as furious with the wife as with the husband.
"You innocent! Damn you," he screamed out.
"You innocent!
Why every trinket you have on your body is paid for by me.
I have given you thousands of pounds, which this fellow has spent and for which he has sold you.
Innocent, by ----!
You're as innocent as your mother, the ballet-girl, and your husband the bully.
Don't think to frighten me as you have done others.
Make way, sir, and let me pass"; and Lord Steyne seized up his hat, and, with flame in his eyes, and looking his enemy fiercely in the face, marched upon him, never for a moment doubting that the other would give way.
But Rawdon Crawley springing out, seized him by the neckcloth, until Steyne, almost strangled, writhed and bent under his arm.
"You lie, you dog!" said Rawdon.
"You lie, you coward and villain!"
And he struck the Peer twice over the face with his open hand and flung him bleeding to the ground.
It was all done before Rebecca could interpose.
She stood there trembling before him.
She admired her husband, strong, brave, and victorious.
"Come here," he said.
She came up at once.