They look pretty enough when they sit upon a rock, twanging their harps and combing their hair, and sing, and beckon to you to come and hold the looking-glass; but when they sink into their native element, depend on it, those mermaids are about no good, and we had best not examine the fiendish marine cannibals, revelling and feasting on their wretched pickled victims. And so, when Becky is out of the way, be sure that she is not particularly well employed, and that the less that is said about her doings is in fact the better.
If we were to give a full account of her proceedings during a couple of years that followed after the Curzon Street catastrophe, there might be some reason for people to say this book was improper. The actions of very vain, heartless, pleasure-seeking people are very often improper (as are many of yours, my friend with the grave face and spotless reputation--but that is merely by the way); and what are those of a woman without faith--or love--or character? And I am inclined to think that there was a period in Mrs Becky's life when she was seized, not by remorse, but by a kind of despair, and absolutely neglected her person and did not even care for her reputation.
This abattement and degradation did not take place all at once; it was brought about by degrees, after her calamity, and after many struggles to keep up--as a man who goes overboard hangs on to a spar whilst any hope is left, and then flings it away and goes down, when he finds that struggling is in vain.
She lingered about London whilst her husband was making preparations for his departure to his seat of government, and it is believed made more than one attempt to see her brother-in-law, Sir Pitt Crawley, and to work upon his feelings, which she had almost enlisted in her favour. As Sir Pitt and Mr. Wenham were walking down to the House of Commons, the latter spied Mrs. Rawdon in a black veil, and lurking near the palace of the legislature. She sneaked away when her eyes met those of Wenham, and indeed never succeeded in her designs upon the Baronet.

They look pretty enough when they sit on a rock, twanging their harps and combing their hair; but when they sink into the sea, depend on it, those mermaids are up to no good, and we had best not examine them feasting on their wretched pickled victims. And so, when Becky is out of the way, be sure that the less that is said about her doings the better.
If we were to give a full account of her life after the Curzon Street catastrophe, there might be some reason to say this book was improper. The actions of very vain, heartless people are often improper; and what are those of a woman without faith - or love - or character? And I am inclined to think that there was a period in Mrs. Becky's life when she was seized, not by remorse, but by a kind of despair, neglected her person and did not even care for her reputation.
This degradation did not take place all at once. It was brought about by degrees, and after many struggles to keep up - as a man who goes overboard hangs on to a spar whilst any hope is left.
She lingered about London whilst her husband was making preparations for his departure to Coventry Island, and it is believed she tried to see her brother-in-law, Sir Pitt Crawley, and to work upon his feelings.
