The gaiety of Wetheral was not much interrupted by the marriage of its most influential members. Lady Wetheral lamented the loss of her daughters, and often in public alluded to her solitary hours of grief; but she was indefatigable in her efforts to amuse Miss Kerrison and Clara; and, though her lips breathed sorrowful words, her eyes and attention exclusively belonged to Sir Foster Kerrison. Her ladyship laboured to maintain "that no passion could be more selfish than sorrow," and she took credit to herself, "that, in despite of low and sad feelings which prompted her to remain at Wetheral in silent meditation, she had never given way to her wishes. Indeed, she felt the claims of others upon her time and attention; and, though her heart did hope Clara might remain single for some years, to be her companion, yet it was her [304] duty to chaperone her to the amusements which her youth expected, and, perhaps, required. All young people loved vivacity, and, though some parents forgot the days of their own youth, and checked the happy views of their children, she would not shrink from a mother\'s duty." With these impressions of "duty," Lady Wetheral was fully employed in escorting Clara and her young companion to every public amusement; and Wetheral still continued the scene of festivity, and the arena of matchmaking, as it had ever been, since the day Mrs. Tom Pynsent made her début in public.
However easily the tastes of young men might bend to Lady Wetheral\'s flattering lips, combined with her daughter\'s attractions, there was some cleverness required in guiding Sir Foster Kerrison to the desired point. His silent manner, and provoking absence of mind, perpetually defeated the mother\'s purposes, but her spirit rose superior to all annoyances. "It might and would take time to throw fetters upon a man who forgot every word or engagement of the previous half-hour, but perseverance must level every impediment. Clara was very young, and patience must be severely taxed, if people were resolved to carry a favourite wish into operation." [305] Clara had not such a provision of that precious gift as her mother possessed, and it required constant watchfulness on her part to subdue the appearance of irritability before the object of her wishes. Her mother, too, watched over the unquiet spirit, and diverted its attention in the time of need. One day, Clara became impetuous upon the subject. Sir Foster never called at Wetheral without a special invitation; and how was she to manage a great, stupid creature, who neither saw nor felt attentions? Lady Wetheral smiled.
"My dear girl, patience! Sir Foster must be managed, and if you will only leave the affair in my hands, all will be well. Do not, I beseech you, look so very cross; the sight of temper drives away all men who are not actually in love, and perpetual good-humour is a perpetual attraction."
"How can I keep any temper with such a heavy mass of human nature?" exclaimed Clara, scornfully.
"Don\'t call names, my love; I am going to tell you. Do not give yourself any trouble, only look pleased and pleasantly at Sir Foster; I will effect the rest. Some men are rather dull, but absence of mind requires skill only in the [306] parties concerned. I do not think Sir Foster dull; absent only—very absent; but perhaps that may operate in our favour."
"In what way?" asked Clara, inquisitively.
"Never mind, my love, look pleasantly at Sir Foster, and leave the minuti? to me. We must lead him gently and gradually to make Wetheral a daily resting-place; and while Lucy is here, it can be done. Pray, Clara, endeavour to check your temper before Lucy. I should not wish her to report unfavourably of your manners at Ripley; so much depends upon your trying to appear good-humoured—do, my love."
With evident painful effort, Clara did manage to conceal her irritable nature from the particular observation of her friend Miss Kerrison, who was the main spring of that machinery which was to involve her father. To Lucy Kerrison Lady Wetheral directed the most flattering attentions, and offered the most agreeable series of parties of pleasure; to her young and unsuspicious ear was consigned every compliment which could lull observation, awaken her love, and interest her in all Lady Wetheral\'s actions. In short, a separation from Clara and the delights of Wetheral was becoming unbearable to the heart and imagination of poor Miss [307] Kerrison, and her eyes filled with tears of real sorrow, soon made apparent to her ladyship\'s quick apprehension, the regret with which her young guest contemplated a return to Ripley. This was, to use her favourite expression, "all in their favour;" and she mentioned the circumstance to Sir John in her own way.
"This poor, dear Lucy Kerrison, my love, is sadly overcome at the thoughts of leaving us. Clara and herself are exceedingly attached; the tears rush to her eyes whenever the subject is alluded to."
"Miss Kerrison is a ladylike, nice girl," replied Sir John.
"Yes, my love, she is quite the companion Clara should have. I approve her good and judicious selection. I wish they may often meet."
Sir John did not reply, and a short pause succeeded.
"I could almost wish Lucy was going to remain with us for Clara\'s sake. If I thought Sir Foster would not object, I would request him not to recall her."
"Isabel is still with us, Gertrude; Clara has her two sisters."
"Yes—to be sure—oh, yes, Mrs. Boscawen [308] is here, but she is never visible till the half-hour bell rings. I see very little of poor Isabel myself, and Clara still less. Bell is shut up, too, in the schoolroom, learning to be over-wise and disagreeable; besides, my love, Bell can be no companion to Clara. I wonder Sir Foster does not call to see his daughter! do you know, my love, he has been but once within this fortnight to see us."
"His company is not particularly acceptable, Gertrude."
"Well, Sir John, I only name the circumstance—I am afraid we are not very attractive; however, my love, I will try to extend Miss Kerrison\'s leave of absence for Clara\'s sake."
"Do as you please, my only objection is to her father being obliged to marry Clara. I have nothing to produce against his pretty, elegant daughter: don\'t let Kerrison marry a daughter of mine, and I shall not interfere in your plans."
"Oh! my love, I never compel men to marry. I hope my dear Clara will be my companion for some years. I feel very keenly my dear Lady Ennismore\'s loss, and so I do poor Mrs. Pynsent."
"Why is Anna Maria \'poor,\' Gertrude?—she has married a good man, and a man she likes."
"She is in a manner banished Hatton," replied [309] Lady Wetheral, sighing; "I cannot think her happy while she roves about plain Mrs. Pynsent, no style—at least, not the Hatton style—no proper establishment, no home, like Lady Ennismore, who drove off to Bedinfield, like the wife of a nobleman—liveries, carriage—all magnificent! How I long to see Julia in her glory."
Sir John could offer no counsel which might check the eager delight his lady felt towards the good things of the earth; he therefore resumed his book, and her ladyship wrote, privately, a most polite billet to Sir Foster, upon the strength of her husband\'s concurrence in her wish to detain his daughter at Wetheral.
"My dear sir,
"It will break all our hearts to part with your lovely Lucy, and Clara suffers so much in the idea of parting with her friend, that we have a proposal to make. I will not tell you at this moment its nature, because I wish to see you. Ladies, my dear sir, prefer speaking to principals. May I hope to see you at Wetheral to-morrow morning?
"Yours truly,
"G. Wetheral."
Clara feared Sir Foster would withstand the invitation, so blandly expressed, by forgetting [310] its existence; but her mother conceived the ambiguity of its expression would raise a germ of curiosity in his mind, which even the inveterate disorder of his brain might not subdue. The wording of the note was talked over before Isabel, and explained to her. Mrs. Boscawen could only entreat Clara not to marry so old a man.
"My dear Clara, Sir Foster will put you into a schoolroom, as Mr. Boscawen has done by me, for old men are alike, I dare say. I assure you, it will be a shocking affair, and I can\'t give my consent unless you insist upon it. I can\'t imagine any body marrying an old man, and going to their studies as if they were schoolgirls. Pray take warning by me, Clara, and don\'t marry Sir Foster."
"My dear Isabel, I am resolved to make the man propose to me. Mamma says I shall lose caste if I am single, for Anna Maria did not marry till she was nineteen, and almost past hope. If I don\'t take immediately, I shall become passé; for mamma says my style of beauty ought to take effect at once."
"You are very handsome, certainly, dear Clara—very handsome. Mr. Boscawen says you are a very beautiful girl."
"Well," replied Clara, smiling complacently, [311] "I must be up and be doing. Sir Foster is very rich."
"Oh! Clara, and so is Mr. Boscawen: but I never have any money. Once Mr. Boscawen gave me a guinea, and then took it back again because I would not keep an account of all I spent. I bought a shilling\'s worth of alicampane, and made myself so ill! However, I did not say I had bought it; so, as I could not account for the shilling, I was obliged to relinquish the rest. Don\'t marry an old man, Clara!"
"Sir Foster lets every body spend his money, Isabel."
"Ah, but remember what Mr. Boscawen promised, Clara! I was promised every thing, and got nothing. You don\'t know how disagreeable it is to be shut up in a morning, reading and translating."
"I shan\'t read or translate to please Sir Foster," said Clara, with scornful energy. "I marry upon other principles."
"Well, Clara, only try not to marry an old man, for I assure you it is a very unpleasant thing."
"I wonder if Sir Foster will call to-morrow, Isabel?"
[312]
"Oh, to be sure he will: I am sure I should, if any one asked me."
"Don\'t name this to Boscawen, Isabel: I don\'t wish him to know my intentions."
"Certainly not—that is, if I can keep it from him; but he manages to find out all my secrets. However, I will try to keep this all to myself."
So did Mrs. Boscawen resolutely intend; but her secret transpired at the touch of her husband\'s mental wand. Mr. Boscawen began to talk of returning to Brierly, the very evening of the conversation which had taken place between his lady and Clara, and, after retiring for the night, he mentioned his intention of leaving Wetheral the following week. Isabel clasped her hands in alarm.
"Oh, Mr. Boscawen, not so soon! must we return so very soon?"
"Why not, Isabel? are you afraid of the dullness of Brierly?"
"Yes—no," cried Isabel, "but I want to watch Clara, Mr. Boscawen: I want to observe something."
"What is it all about?" asked Mr. Boscawen. "Is your sister engaged in some speculation, or has your mother decided upon any one whom your sister is decreed to captivate? I think I [313] have stumbled upon the truth, Isabel, by your countenance."
"How you find things out, Mr. Boscawen!" cried Isabel, blushing and hesitating; "you never allow me to keep a secret."
"Then there is one, Isabel. Have the kindness to admit me into the mystery: a wife should have no secrets."
"Well, only promise not to tell," said Isabel, awed by her husband\'s grave manner and remark, "and I will not keep the secret to myself, though I promised to do so."
"Who required the promise, Isabel?"
Isabel became alarmed, and disclosed the plot upon Sir Foster. Mr. Boscawen listened in silence, and then coolly made his annotations upon the subject.
"When a mother plots for a son-in-law, and her daughter acts upon it, besides implicating a young married sister, under promises of secrecy, it is time to take steps towards withdrawing from such society. I had every intention of leaving Wetheral next week, but now I shall set off to-morrow, at twelve o\'clock; therefore, Isabel, give your maid orders accordingly."
Mrs. Boscawen\'s distress was too violent to be controlled. "Oh, Mr. Boscawen, how can you take [314] me away to horrible Brierly so suddenly!—how can you frighten me, and threaten to leave Wetheral before our month is quite over! I shall never be confined at all, I\'m sure, and Clara will be so angry!" Isabel sat down, overcome with terror.
Mr. Boscawen patiently and kindly explained his line of conduct to his terrified wife. He assured her no notice would be taken of her disclosure, and that no one should suspect the cause of his departure. He expressed his disgust at Clara\'s conduct, but he was silent upon the abhorrence he conceived to the untired man?uvring of the mother. He trusted Isabel would become attached to Brierly in the course of time; it was a safer home than the infected air of Wetheral; and, after her confinement, if she fancied change of air, he would take her to the sea.
Mr. Boscawen\'s observations, in some measure, pacified the extreme grief of Isabel; but her night\'s rest was gone, and she was extremely feverish in the morning, complaining of painful oppression and headache. Mr. Boscawen was fearful his young wife might suffer from the complicated effects of fear and dislike to returning home; but he was resolved in his purpose: nothing now could alter his determination to carry his lady from Wetheral. He announced his intention openly at breakfast, and Lady Wetheral\'s [315] polite expression of sorrow fell from her lips upon a cold and barren soil: no flowers rose under her gracious shower of compliments.
"My dear Mr. Boscawen, you surprise and grieve me by your resolution: the absence of Isabel and yourself will throw a deep gloom around us."
"I am obliged to you," quietly replied Mr. Boscawen, as he buttered his piece of dry toast.
"Losing three daughters at one fell swoop, is a severe trial," continued her ladyship. "I shall miss my dear Isabel every hour."
Mr. Boscawen deigned no reply; but Isabel, pale and without appetite, sat dissolved in tears, and dared not trust her voice: she feared to displease her husband by any manifestation of grief, but her heart was sinking under the fearful anticipations of Miss Tabitha, and the gloomy routine of Brierly.
"I suppose Sir John is in his study," observed Mr. Boscawen, rising at the conclusion of breakfast.
"Oh, yes, Sir John breakfasts at seven o\'clock, when people are, or ought to be, fast asleep. I can\'t comprehend such ungenial hours and taste. Surely, if breakfast is ended before eleven o\'clock, there is sufficient leisure for the affairs of life."
[316]
Mr Boscawen\'s disgust rose to his eyes, and overflowed in the expression of his countenance; but a strong effort subdued the sentence which trembled upon his lips. He rose, and quitted the breakfast-room. When the door closed upon his awful figure, Isabel\'s misery burst forth: she threw her arms around Clara, who was seated near her, and sobbed violently.
"Oh, mamma, I wish I had never, never married!"
"My dear Mrs. Boscawen," replied her mother, in very soothing accents, "you are not aware of what you say. I am sure you would have been miserable single, and I should have been tormented to death with an unmarried daughter always at my elbow. You are very comfortably and happily married, my love."
"Oh, how can you say so, mamma! I wish I was Chrystal, to sit with papa, and never be obliged to do what I did not like! I wish I was you, Clara, happy and unmarried! I wish I was a bird, or the cat, or any thing but what I am!" Poor Isabel wept freely: she proceeded—"I am going to be shut up with Miss Tabitha and Mr. Boscawen, in that large, gloomy Brierly; I must not laugh, or speak to old John, or see any pleasant [317] company. Oh, no one can tell the dullness............