"Stupidity, Miss Wetheral! Now what can Miss Wycherly mean by stupidity, when I am so fearful about her driving home?"
Julia saw her friend's complexion reviving, and her eye lighting up with a thousand fires: in another moment, a torrent must overwhelm the unfortunate Henry Tyndal; but, as if to prove his utter blindness, he placed his own foot upon the precipice by offering to take her hand. Miss Wycherly felt the extent of her imprudence, in suffering the attendance of a man whom she never intended to marry, by its effects; but reason, at that moment, did not inform her impatient spirit that the fault was hers alone. All suggestions of reason were overpowered by anger, for Charles Spottiswoode's eyes were upon her, and he had witnessed the action. Miss Wycherly pushed Henry Tyndal's hand away, and rose from her seat, as she replied, with great impetuosity,
"If you ever presume to approach me with familiarity, I will tell you how I abhor the insolence, and resent the affront. How dare you attempt to touch me, Mr. Tyndal?"
Mr. Tyndal was offended, but he never imagined insult and insolence could be implied in his well-intentioned movement: he, therefore, stood silent and sulky for a few moments. Miss Wycherly passed him, and took her station between Lady Spottiswoode and her aunt. Mrs. Pynsent was pleased to perceive her son still absent, and her anxiety was sincere, in endeavouring to get her niece away from Hatton, and in preventing Tom's reappearance: she was sure Sally Hancock would think with her that, when once Tom was married, Pen would think no more of the matter. Lady Ennismore's departure destroyed all her intended plans for Penelope's peace of mind; for Miss Wetheral was recalled from contemplating the new picture, and where her fairy footsteps led, there followed Tom Pynsent. It was in vain that Mrs. Pynsent bustled round her niece, and recommended her to Mr. Spottiswoode's care; Tom's first step was to bring Anna Maria up to his cousin.
"We have hardly spoken together, have we, Pen, in this confounded bustle? but here's my little wife, come to ask how you are, and to say you must always be glad to see us at Lidham, when you set up with you know who." Tom looked knowingly at Henry Tyndal.
"We have ever been good friends, Penelope, and a closer connexion shall not disunite us," said Anna Maria, as they shook hands. Tom Pynsent, infinitely too happy to remain stationary, walked away with his prize, and Miss Wycherly remained with the Spottiswoodes. Mr. Charles Spottiswoode was giving all his attention to some coloured prints on hunting subjects, when Mrs. Pynsent summoned him.
"Here, Charley, your party are waiting for you, and you are sitting dumb-founded, like a lover bewitched. Pen, who do you suppose Charley is thinking of? Who is a long way on her road to Farnborough Stacey, Charley?"
Mr. Spottiswoode hastily put away the prints; and Miss Wycherly was fast sinking into the depression which follows effort of any kind, when Tom Pynsent returned, in high feather, from assisting the Wetheral party into their carriage. He flew to Miss Wycherly.
"Cousin Pen, my little wife commands me to dine at Wetheral to-day, so I shall see you properly packed up under Spottiswoode's care: very good thing Spottiswoode was here, or I should have driven you home in a towering passion for standing in my way. Come this way, Pen, my little wife sends you a message, and so does her sister: I must tell them as a profound secret."