A twelvemonth passed by, unmarked by any event, save the marriage of
Miss Wycherly. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Spottiswoode resided at Lidham, and
Sir John Spottiswoode had returned to England, to inhabit his almost
desolate property in Worcestershire. Lady Spottiswoode and her daughter
were invited to remain with him at Alverton, to enliven his home, till
he could endow it with a wife; but Sir John's fastidious taste gave
little promise to the gay partakers of Lady Spottiswoode's festivities,
that she would be restored to her once agreeably filled jointure-house,
in the Abbey Foregate.
Worcestershire, also, lay wide and far between the growing loves of
Miss Spottiswoode and Mr. John Tyndal; but there was resolution on
his side, and encouragement on the part of the lady; and the repeated
absences of Mr. John Tyndal from Court Herbert, gave rise to much
observation and prophecy in their circle. The Tom Pynsents were at
Hatton, rejoicing in the prospect of an heir to its prosperity; and
Mrs. Pynsent's ecstasy could only be equalled by the anxiety she
manifested to keep Anna Maria's mind easy. Her whims, in every respect,
were to be met with instant fulfilment. Mrs. Pynsent formed a most
amusing contrast to the fearful Miss Tabitha Boscawen.
Christobelle was domesticated at Hatton a fortnight before her sister's
expected confinement. Her father rejoiced in her visits, for she was
then withdrawn from her mother's increasing petulance--a petulance,
which began to vent its puerile vehemence upon every being within her
power, and which fell upon Christobelle with peculiar violence.
The extremity of her ladyship's patience had given way under repeated
disappointments connected with Bedinfield and Ripley. Those matches,
which she had most fondly considered her own scheme, prosecuted to
their close, by her own determination and skill, in the very face of
her husband's objections, had given her no satisfaction. Bedinfield
was now deserted by her daughter for a foreign land; and Sir Foster
Kerrison had interdicted the meeting of Clara and her mother at Ripley.
He considered Lady Wetheral an aider and abettor of his wife's violent
spirit; and, having once forbidden the presence of her ladyship within
the walls, the gibing and bitter reproaches of Clara strengthened and
decided his prohibition. Vexed and irritated by these occurrences, Lady
Wetheral could not turn her attention to her happily-established Anna
Maria, or the gay-hearted Isabel, with her darling child: she forbade
Christobelle ever offending her ears with sounds so repugnant to her
taste.
"Hold your tongue, Bell. I do not choose to be lectured by a pert girl
of thirteen. What is Tom Pynsent to me? I detest a man who can tamely
bear to live shut up with those people at Hatton; and who can bear the
avarice of Boscawen, driving a stupid pair of horses, when he can so
well afford four? Those were your father's matches, not mine."
"I thought you particularly wished Tom Pynsent to propose to Anna
Maria, mamma?"
"Hold your tongue, Bell."
Christobelle was happy to escape from the cares of Wetheral, to the
perfect freedom of Hatton. Provided every one spoke their mind, and
that mind was free from mean pride, Mrs. Pynsent was content. Her
good-humour to those she loved was proverbial, as her detestation of
folly was public. Luckily, Christobelle was ranked among her favourites
at her first visit.
"You young thing, so you are come to Hatton, are you? Shake hands.
I shall like _you_, because you showed a good feeling about your
dare-devil sister Kerrison, some time ago. I like warm-hearted people,
without nonsense and pride--here's a welcome to you, you great, tall,
good-looking thing." Mrs. Pynsent wrung her hand with a good will,
which gave severe pain. Christobelle tried to smile.
"What, my welcome is rough, is it? Make a face at once, and don't
pretend you are pleased, when you are no such thing. There's your
sister--she's a proper little tub--and there's Tom, as handsome as
ever--and here's my Bobby, with the gout; but you may go and shake
hands with him. The poor soul can't wag from the sofa."
Christobelle was received affectionately by all and each. Mrs. Pynsent
was full of kind inquiries. Some fell kindly upon her young friend's
heart, and some remarks had better have been left unsaid.
"Well, and how is your father, my young one? A better creature never
walked this earth than Sir John. How is he?"
"Quite well, and desires his compliments."
"Ay, to be sure--and my lady, how is she?"
"I left mamma very unwell."
"Too-too! she can't be ill. Hasn't she married her daughters to two mad
scamps, that her heart was set upon? What is she ill about? Can't she
get _you_ off, just yet, that she is so dull? She had better throw you
at Selgrave's head. Well, and how is my pretty Mrs. Boscawen?"
Christobelle gave Mrs. Pynsent a full account of Isabel's health, and
her happiness at Brierly.
"Very proper; I am glad to hear it. That was your father's match,
missy. He valued a good man. Lord, Tom, what are you doing there, with
Anna Maria?"
Tom Pynsent was removing a basket of apricots from his lady's vicinity.
"I won't let my wife eat these unripe things, to make herself ill, and
bring on all sorts of queer feelings. Upon my soul, you have eaten six
half-ripe apricots; you have eaten sour things enough to kill an old
fox, much less a little delicate creature like yourself."
"Just one apricot more, Tom," said Anna Maria, coaxingly.
"By Jove, I'll throw them out to the dogs, Anna! You shall not eat such
trash."
"Just _one_ more, Tom," continued his lady, advancing her hand towards
the basket, and looking half-beseechingly, half-saucily, at him.
"Upon my word, you are enough to drive a man distracted! I declare you
are more trouble to me than the kennel!" cried Tom Pynsent, unable to
resist her _minauderie_, and again surrendering the basket of apricots
to her grasp. "I'm sure I hope this won't happen every time."
"Ha, ha," cried Mrs. Pynsent, "and that's the fear, is it, Master
Tommy? Give up the fruit, and let her eat as much as she likes. Do you
remember, Bobby, how I gobbled your pines, once upon a time?"
Mr. Pynsent looked up from his newspaper, and shrugged his shoulders.
"I remember a good deal, Pen."
"I'll be bound you do, Bobby."
Anna Maria now expressed a wish to walk with her sister into the
flower-garden. Tom rather demurred at her descending the long flight of
steps. Mrs. Pynsent would allow no opposition.
"Come now, Tommy, let the poor thing hobble about, if she wishes it;
and, if she drops down, pick her up again. I hate a poor unfortunate
woman to be refused any thing. I am sure it's no sinecure to be such a
roundabout."
Tom Pynsent was easily persuaded into measures which he endured pain
in refusing to his lady. His affectionate heart was only anxious to
do right by a creature, whose very footsteps he worshipped; and his
watchfulness proceeded from the fear of losing that which was dearer to
him than light or life. Anna Maria revelled in the very wantonness of
happiness, and she delighted in drawing forth her husband's attentions,
by every little inventive art. She loved also to rouse his alarms; and
enjoyed, with rapturous delight, the expression of his honest affection.
One morning, as the ladies sat at work, amused by Tom's account of the
progress of his kennel, Anna Maria suddenly sank back upon the sofa,
and, by her closed eyes, and the work falling from her hands, Mrs.
Pynsent did indeed fear some fatal termination to her son's hopes. Tom
Pynsent sat rooted to the spot; his clasped hands and trembling lips
exhibiting every appalling alarm. Mrs. Pynsent and Christobelle flew
to Anna Maria's assistance; but the apparently dying victim opened her
eyes, and laughed heartily, exclaiming--
"My dear Tom, I wanted to see how you would look at my death; come to
me, Tom, and don't look so overpowered."
Tom Pynsent flew to her, as the blood rushed violently into his face,
by the reaction of hope against the horrors of despair. He threw his
arms round her, as she looked half terrified at her own thoughtlessness.
"By all that's horrible, Anna Maria, never give me such a useless
fright again; I might have had an apoplectic stroke. How could you play
me such a devil's trick?"
She stroked his cheek, as she whispered, "I just wanted to amuse
myself, Tom."
"Yes, it might amuse _you_, but what sort of amusement was it to me?
What would you have done, if I had dropped down dead with the shock?"
"Cried, Tom," answered Anna Maria, putting her finger to her eye, and
looking demure. Tom Pynsent looked at her with admiring affection.
"Upon my word, if you play me this trick again, I'll--"
Anna Maria placed her hand upon his lips, and a little playful
scene ensued, which ended in the usual way. It gave the happy wife
the delight of witnessing her husband's sincere alarm and love, and
Tom Pynsent was charmed with the little ruse, which gave a zest to
the day's routine. "It was," he said, "one of those sly tricks which
his little wife acted so prettily, doubling and harking back, like a
knowing vixen fox. He thought a wife and a fox were devilish alike in
their politics."
It was a pleasing sight to witness the happy understanding which
prevailed among the members composing the family circles at Hatton.
If Mrs. Pynsent failed--and fail she assuredly did, in the elegances
of polished life--yet her domination was kindly wielded over those
who lived under her roof. She respected and loved her husband, though
his cognomen of "Bobby" threw a shade of ridicule round her gentlest
expostulations. She loved her Tom with that blind enthusiastic fondness
which extended itself to every thing connected with him. She loved his
wife, because she belonged to Tom--the dogs were Tom's dogs--Bobby
was Tom's father. Hatton would, eventually, belong to Tom; therefore,
her heart warmed to every one around her. Was not Christobelle also
a favourite? Had she not come to Hatton to _see_ Tom?--Mrs. Pynsent
cautioned Anna Maria not to repeat her fainting-fit, or trench upon the
sacred ground of her husband's feeling heart too closely; at present
she was safe, and Tom was pleased, so it did not signify.
"The deuce take the best of them, my dear; if they are often called
upon for sorrow, it hardens them, as the cold air stiffens your sticks
of lollypops. Tommy is but a man, after all; and the dog must be
amused, not frightened. What an owl he looked, bless his heart!"
Sir John Spottiswoode appeared suddenly at Hatton. He was staying at
Lidham, and excursing among his friends in Shropshire. Mrs. Pynsent
insisted upon Sir John becoming their guest, and enforced her request
in her usual quaintly expressive style.
"Here, hollo, Sir Jacky, you can't think of leaving us at the rate of a
sneaking call! Make yourself at home, man; and stay with us till Tom's
wife--"
An earnest look of entreaty from Anna Maria checked the rapidity of
Mrs. Pynsent's speech. She hesitated.
"Stay with us, Sir Jacky, till--I'll be hanged if I know what I was
going to say!--if you haven't put every thing out of my head, Anna
Maria. What did you think I was going to say? I wasn't going to talk
like Sally Hancock."
"Stay with us, Spottiswoode," cried Tom Pynsent, "and we'll have a
field-day; such a one as you never saw in Italy."
"Oh, those outlandish places, and those snivelling Frenchmen!"
exclaimed Mrs. Pynsent: "come to us, and here's a pretty girl, worth
all your mamzells."
Mrs. Pynsent pointed Sir John Spottiswoode's attention to Christobelle.
The timid girl felt a poignant shame, which caused deep blushes to
suffuse her face and neck, and she placed herself behind Anna Maria,
till an opportunity offered to escape from the room. When she returned
Sir John had departed, but he was to become a guest at Hatton for some
days, on the following morning. He was to accompany Mr. Wycherly and
the Charles Spottiswoodes to dinner. Mrs. Pynsent rallied Christobelle
upon her flight from the sitting-room.
"Why, hollo, my young one, you seem to shrink under a little notice.
That won't do for my lady, some time hence. You must expect notice now.
Don't be a fool--an affected fool--or any thing of that kind; but you
must expect to hear yourself admired. Why, you're a monstrous fine
girl, and, if you don't beat Lady Kerrison in a few years, my name is
not Pen Pynsent."
Christobelle blushed more deeply and painfully than before.
"Come, Miss Bell, try to bear beauty without reddening so furiously.
Don't be argued into selling it to the best bidder, and you need not be
ashamed of it."
"My dear Miss Wetheral," said the peaceable Mr. Pynsent, "come and
shelter yourself under my wing."
"A pretty wing you have got to shelter her with, Bobby."
Mr. Pynsent, to use a parliamentary expression, "withdrew his motion,"
and Christobelle was again exposed to his lady's jests.
"Now, I say, Sir Jacky would be a proper sort of beau for you, Miss
Bell. A long-legged fellow, as steady as our best hound, with a nice
estate, and a good temper."
"I would rather not leave papa," answered poor Christobelle, almost
inclined to weep.
Mrs. Pynsent laughed heartily. "A good joke this, for Jacky. I only
mention it, my dear, to be beforehand with my Lady Wetheral. When she
tells you of Sir Jacky's estate, you can say it came from _me_ first. I
recommended the spec., mind. It will be droll enough if I get before my
lady, in a matrimonial speculation."
"Come, now, mother, don't tease my friend, Bell," cried the
kind-hearted Tom. "I won't allow any teasing. I shall bespeak Bell for
my second wife; no one else shall have her."
"What is that?" asked Anna Maria, raising her head from examining a
painted screen.
"Why, Bell has promised to be my wife, the very next time you die, you
little rascal." Anna Maria snapped her fingers at him with a smile; Tom
Pynsent snatched a kiss, and proceeded.
"If any one teases sister Bell, I shall feel called upon to take her
part, so run and put on your habit, Bell, and we'll have a scamper with
all the dogs."
Thus ended Christobelle's trouble and blushes; and Mrs. Pynsent
good-humouredly forbore to distress her in future, by recurring to
her appearance, or extolling the fortune and long legs of Sir John
Spottiswoode.
When every species of joke was withdrawn, which caused feelings of
annoyance, Christobelle liked Sir John Spottiswoode's society. He had
travelled much; and she loved to listen to his accounts of the places
he had frequented, and the objects he had observed with interest. Sir
John was sparkling in his descriptions, and he saw that Christobelle
lent an attentive ear to all his communications; a flattering
circumstance, even though the listener proved a girl of thirteen. They
were the best friends in the world. Christobelle loved to question
him upon foreign subjects, and his very easy manners made her cast
away gradually the alarm and restraint of her first acquaintance with
a man so much her senior in age and mental acquirements. Sir John
had seen the Ennismores at Florence. They were very gay, and Julia
was considered the loveliest Englishwoman in Florence. Her society
was greatly courted, and there was a Colonel Neville who was deeply
attached to her. Every body pitied Colonel Neville. The Countess
encouraged his attentions to her daughter-in-law, which made poor
Neville's case more pitiable. The young Lady Ennismore had given no
occasion for remark, for her conduct was unimpeachable, but poor
Neville was sacrificed. He could not tear himself away, when Sir John
quitted Italy. He was lingering near Lady Ennismore. It must be a case
of strong temptation, he thought, for the young Countess. Neville was
a fine agreeable fellow, and Lord Ennismore looked more fit for the
grave. Pen Spottiswoode was extremely uneasy about her old friend.
In such interesting subjects, Christobelle's attention was deeply
fixed; and, whether they rode or walked, she generally found herself
by the side of Sir John Spottiswoode. Mrs. Pynsent winked her eye, if
their glances met upon these occasions, but she refrained from making
any remark, except by implication.
"I say, Miss Bell, if you would rather not ride to-day with an elderly
man, give me a hint, and I'll get you off."
"Here, hollo, Miss Bell, don't do any thing disagreeable to your mind.
Shall Tom give you his arm to-day? I dare say, like the rest of us, you
prefer variety."
Mrs. Pynsent would not allow Christobelle to return to Wetheral at the
appointed time. "She was a steady tight kind of a lass, and the deuce
a step should she make towards her dull home. She need give herself no
trouble. _She_ would settle the concern with Sir John. Christobelle
should stay over Tom's confinement--he would suffer quite as much as
his little wife--and Jacky Spottiswoode should stay too. It would make
Tom comfortable, when madam was in the straw."
So it was decided to be, and both continued at Hatton, enjoying long
walks, and assisting each other in dispelling gloomy apprehensions
from the mind of the affectionate and anxious husband. Tom Pynsent's
apprehensions increased as Anna Maria's hour drew near, and his mother
taxed her memory for calming and comfortable precedents.
"Tom, don't drop your lip, like Sally Hancock. Why, there's Kitty
Barnes, with fifteen enormous purple-faced children: she is alive at
this moment. And look at Polly Mudge, the whipper-in's wife, who they
thought must die; isn't she hanging out the clothes, and handing the
baskets along, as brisk as your three year olds?"
"Anna Maria is so delicate; one can't compare her with Polly Mudge,"
said Tom Pynsent, in doleful tones.
"Well, then, what do you say to Betty Smoker, who always wanted bacon
and greens, an hour after her troubles were over. She was a poor
sickly-looking thing!"
"I hope my poor girl will do the same, if it's a good thing for her,"
replied Tom, in more cheerful accents.
"Let her eat and drink just what she likes, Tom. I won't have her
contradicted in any thing."
At length, the day arrived which was to decide the fate of Tom Pynsent.
The moment Anna Maria complained of feeling ill and restless, her
husband fled to the kennel, and insisted upon some one bringing him
intelligence every ten minutes of his wife's health. Polly Mudge was
deputed to relieve guard with Christobelle; and for nearly thirteen
hours they were employed as carrier-pigeons, to announce bulletins
from Mrs. Pynsent to the kennel, where Tom pertinaciously resolved to
remain. It was the only spot where his mind could receive amusement, or
which had power to distract his attention from the idea that his wife
would not survive her confinement. He took no nourishment. He continued
constantly employed with his men in examining the dogs, and suggesting
improvements for their convenience.
At length, as the shades of evening began to fall, Mrs. Pynsent
approached the kennel, waving her pocket-handkerchief: it caught her
son's eye as he was preparing to give "Rattler" and "Beauty" a dose of
salt. He bounded over the wall, and gazed earnestly upon his mother's
face. She waved her handkerchief again in triumph, and gave a powerful
cheer. Tom caught up the note, and it was re-echoed by the huntsmen,
till their voices rose far and wide upon the air. Anna Maria had given
birth to a son. Mrs. Pynsent embraced her son in ecstatic delight, and
the tears ran down her cheeks.
"If it isn't as fine a boy as ever blessed my sight! Go and change
that coat, my blessed Tom, and you shall see them both; but don't go
smelling of the kennel, my pretty one!"
Tom Pynsent's heart swelled with a husband's and a father's best
emotions, when he contemplated his wife and child. It seemed as
though his Anna Maria had passed through death, and was raised again
to his eyes and heart. He gazed silently upon them for some time in
astonishment--he gazed upon the infant, as it lay by _her_ side, who
had suffered so much to give it life. He turned to his mother, who
watched the workings of his countenance with delight, and, seizing her
hands, he exclaimed,
"If John Spottiswoode and myself don't drink like fiddlers to-night,
for this day's work!"
All was joy and congratulation at Hatton. Mr. Pynsent, in spite of
gouty pains, insisted upon being carried to the door of his daughter's
apartment, that he might enjoy the satisfaction of hearing his grandson
cry. Mrs. Pynsent would not hear of it.
"Be quiet, Bobby, and nurse your crutch. To-morrow you shall all see
our little, squalling puppy."
Tom Pynsent did not drink like a fiddler with John Spottiswoode. He
remained the whole evening in Anna Maria's dressing-room, listening
greedily to the movements of her attendants--to the tone of her
voice--and to the cry of the newly-arrived object of his affections.
There he received refreshment, and he only left his station to retire
at a late hour to his own room.
Christobelle was allowed to ride with Sir John Spottiswoode, to convey
the intelligence to Wetheral the following morning. It was vain to hope
for her brother-in-law's company: he was never absent from his lady's
room. Christobelle was now quite unrestrained with her companion, and
to be escorted by him alone was delightful: he could then attend to
her, and she was free to chat, without fearing a wink or nod from Mrs.
Pynsent. Her arrival, so attended, was pleasing to Lady Wetheral, and
Christobelle was welcomed, for the first time in her life, with smiles
and kindness.
"My dear Bell, you are very kind to bring me such good news; I am such
a poor thing in illness--so alarmed about those I love, that my company
would have been worse than useless to dear Mrs. Tom Pynsent. Tell her
how I rejoice in my grandson. Sir John Spottiswoode, we are very old
acquaintance, though you have been so long absent. I hope you have
brought back your affection for old friends?"
"Unchanged, Lady Wetheral, unchanged."
"I am glad to hear it. You have been staying some time at Hatton, I
think?"
"Nearly three weeks, attending very closely upon Miss Wetheral, who has
had no other gallant."
"My daughter has been receiving pleasure, I am sure."
"I won't answer for that: but I can answer for her very polite
reception of me, and that I have received great pleasure from her
conversation."
"Give a proof of your satisfaction, by staying at Wetheral, Sir John.
My husband will be full of regret, if you quit Shropshire without
paying a visit to your old friends."
"I shall have pleasure in doing so, Lady Wetheral, when I leave Hatton."
Her ladyship was greatly pleased by Sir John Spottiswoode's alacrity
in accepting her invitation. Her manner wore its usual composure under
excitation, but her sentiments transpired in the gentle suavity of
her conduct towards Christobelle. She was the "dear companion whom
she missed--the only relic of past times--the child left to comfort
her age, now all the rest were gone far distant from her." Sir John
Spottiswoode felt compassion and interest in her complaining affection.
Christobelle knew from experience, that her mother's manner proceeded
from some concealed motives, in which she herself was involved. It
could not possibly proceed from any views which she might form upon
Sir John's liberty, because he counted five and twenty years, and
Christobelle was too young to become a speculation; but she was assured
there must be some powerful reason to effect such a startling change
in her manner of addressing her. Where was the "stupid, tiresome,
unloveable Bell" of their last meeting? She was, like Sir John
Spottiswoode, unchanged; but she was addressed as the creature who had
long been the only object of her mother's cares and affection, since
the marriage of Lady Kerrison. This was incomprehensible.
Sir John Wetheral accompanied them in their return to Hatton, and Mrs.
Pynsent was eager to exhibit her little charge. He was summoned into
the dressing-room, where the happy grandmother was seated with the
babe, preparing a little soaked biscuit in a small silver saucepan.
"Come in, come in, good folks: come in, Sir John Wetheral; here's a
chap for you! Don't squeeze the young dog! Sit down, Sir John. Where's
Tom? I'm just making a little meal for our young dog! Tom says he shall
be christened 'Rattler;' but he shan't be named after beasts that
perish."
Tom Pynsent came softly forth from Anna Maria's room, and received his
father-in-law's warm congratulations. Sir John took the infant tenderly
in his arms, and gave it a blessing, as he had done by the child of
Isabel. Tom Pynsent, almost purple in the face with happy feelings,
watched every movement of its arms and eyes.
"Upon my soul, it's the prettiest thing I ever saw! I do think, upon my
soul, it is!"
"It's just what you were at that age, Tommy," replied his mother, as
she assisted the nurse to prepare the biscuit; "it's just such a little
darling pudsey thing as _you_ were."
Sir John was allowed to see Anna Maria for one instant, to smile at
her, but not to speak. All were then driven from the dressing-room by
the mandate of Mrs. Pynsent.
"Off with you now, all of you. Wait in peace till Tom's allowed to see
company, and then we will have rare doings."
Lady Wetheral's visit was paid in great form, a fortnight after the
birth of Anna Maria's child, and Christobelle was to return with her
to Wetheral when it was concluded. Mrs. Pynsent could not endure the
protracted visit of a person equally related to the parties with
herself.
"Such coolness," she observed to Sally Hancock, who was sent for to see
Tom's child--"such cool ways of going on did not suit her ideas; and be
hanged if my Lady Wetheral should see either mother or child!"
When her ladyship arrived at Hatton, Sir John Spottiswoode and
Christobelle were in the drawing-room. She entered with graceful
composure, and in excellent spirits.
"My dear Bell, I come with increased pleasure, knowing I am to run
away with you. Sir John Spottiswoode, how do you do? Drawing, both of
you, I see. Sir John's sketches must be your models, my love. I hope to
be favoured with a sight of those sketches during your promised visit
at Wetheral, my dear sir."
"I was giving Miss Wetheral a few hints on perspective."
"How very kind! My dear Bell, I hope you do credit to your instructor.
I hurried here rather earlier than I generally drive out, in the hope
of seeing Anna Maria for a few minutes. My Sir John assures me it is a
lovely infant. I am happy she is doing so well; no fever, I hear; quite
well, and with an appetite."
A polite and playful conversation was kept up between her ladyship and
Sir John Spottiswoode, till Mrs. Pynsent appeared. She entered the
room with the short, sharp step which always marked her dislike to the
visitor.
"So you are come at last, my Lady Wetheral? A fortnight is a long time
to keep away from one's flesh and blood!"
Lady Wetheral appeared perfectly collected, and unconscious of Mrs.
Pynsent's rebuke. She bowed with polite good-humour.
"I trust I shall find my daughter awake. I long to be introduced to
my grandson--my first grandson, Mrs. Pynsent, for I have not yet seen
Isabel's boy."
"I would not have let a fortnight pass without seeing my grandson at
Brierly," replied Mrs. Pynsent.
"My dear daughter can perhaps receive me now," said Lady Wetheral,
rising. "I am anxious to see her."
"Your dear daughter is fast asleep, and so is her infant."
Lady Wetheral reseated herself.
"A few minutes may find her awake. I may be fortunate enough to remain
till she wakes."
"I don't think you will. Anna Maria has fallen into her first sleep
to-day, and I hope it will last. The child is asleep with her, and Tom
watches over them."
"Her sleep is quiet and refreshing, I hope?"
"We take great care of our invalids at Hatton. We don't leave them a
fortnight to be nursed by other people."
Lady Wetheral affected innocence of all covert meanings. She addressed
Sir John Spottiswoode.--
"My daughter tells me you saw the Ennismore party at Florence. Did you
see my daughter, Lady Ennismore, to speak? Did she trouble you with
any letters or messages for her friends?"
"I saw Lady Ennismore--your Lady Ennismore--twice; each time she was
accompanied by the Countess and Colonel Neville, and our interview was
short. Lady Ennismore was looking very lovely."
"You mentioned your intended return to England to her."
"I did; but no letters were consigned to my care by her ladyship."
"It is very strange," returned Lady Wetheral, "that only one letter has
reached us from Italy within twelve months!"
"Every body expected it!" said Mrs. Pynsent.
"I do not understand--I cannot quite comprehend your remark," replied
her ladyship, bending gently forward, and sinking gracefully into her
first attitude.
"Every body knew you had given your daughter to a weak man, governed
by his mother; and every body expected the poor girl would be carried
from her friends. Who ever heard of the old Lady Ennismore, and did not
learn that she was a tartar!"
Lady Wetheral changed the subject.
"You have probably brought some beautiful specimens of the different
arts, Sir John? Italy is full of rare antiquities."
"I have brought home a few things--a few pictures, and so forth, as all
travellers are expected to do," replied Sir John Spottiswoode. "I hope
Miss Wetheral will accept a little drawing of Naples, which I mean to
present on one knee."
Lady Wetheral smiled.
"My dear Bell will receive your polite offering, with a determination
to persevere in drawing, I am sure, Sir John."
"And our friend, Sir Jacky, is upon sale too," cried Mrs. Pynsent.
"Here he stands, framed and glazed, for manœuvring mothers to
contemplate!"
"Sir John Spottiswoode is worthy many manœuvres," answered her
ladyship. "Every lady will be forgiven for wishing her daughter happily
engaged to worth and high principle."
Sir John bowed low, and looked gratified by the compliment. Certainly
Lady Wetheral ably sustained her claims to good generalship. She
addressed Mrs. Pynsent.
"Perhaps my daughter may be awake; may I be allowed to enter her room?"
"No one enters her room but Tom. She is not awake: I hope she will not
think of it these two hours."
Lady Wetheral acted upon her own often-expressed principle of never
contending with "vulgar people;" she, therefore, rose to depart, and
Christobelle unwillingly rose to accompany her. She begged her kindest
love to her son and daughter.
"Yes, my Lady Wetheral, I'll tell my daughter Tom, you have called at
last," interrupted Mrs. Pynsent.
"Her kindest love to Mr. and Mrs. Tom _Pynsent_, and she hoped to be
more fortunate at a future visit."
"I'll tell Mrs. Tom, you will call in another fortnight, my lady."
Mrs. Pynsent advanced, and took both Christobelle's hands. "You are a
good, clever, handsome, gawky girl, and I am very sorry to lose you.
Come whenever you like, and stay as long as you like; you will be very
welcome at Hatton. You don't understand manœuvring yet, and I hope
you never will. Never lose your blushes, and never sell yourself to the
Evil One. Good bye, my dear, honest Miss Bell."
Mrs. Pynsent shook Christobelle's hands as warmly at taking leave, as
she had done at her entrance to Hatton; and her young friend departed
in lowness of spirits. Mrs. Pynsent had shown her great kindness; and
whenever her warm heart interested itself, it was impossible to resist
her roughly expressed, but continual demonstrations of good will. Sir
John Spottiswoode observed Christobelle's distress, as he led her to
the carriage, after having deposited her mother.
"You are loth to depart, Miss Wetheral," he said, with feeling.
Christobelle did not answer. The tears which fell uncontrolled
witnessed that she _did_ feel unwilling to quit the happy party. She
entered the carriage in a deplorable state of weeping. Mrs. Pynsent
looked from the window, which Tom had long named the "screaming window."
"I say, Miss Bell, don't cry, and come again soon. Don't be
down-hearted; your sister shall always see _you_."
Christobelle heard no more, for the carriage moved on, and she caught
only one glance of Anna Maria's window, as they drove round the wooded
knoll, which shut out the last glimpse of Hatton.