"You agree with me? Is that your meaning when translated?"
"I do not," replied Mr. Boscawen, mildly; "I give my judgment entirely in favour of Tom Pynsent."
"You have not given the subject your best consideration, my love," observed her husband.
"The thing requires no consideration, Sir John: you are traversing Mr. Pynsent in his wishes, and preparing severe pain for me. I always hoped and believed Anna Maria would be near me, and you are endeavouring to banish her the county. I confess I am ill prepared for this blow, Sir John Wetheral, and I hope I shall not be extremely ill from the shock."
Sir John endeavoured to explain away his lady's objections to the present arrangement; but her mind was totally overpowered by the reflection that Hatton must not yet shelter his daughter.
"I don't understand you, Sir John. Nothing can explain away my distress at perceiving you determined to expel my daughter from Hatton, and I can only appeal to Tom Pynsent from your harsh resolution. I shall implore him to let my daughter be near her mother."
Tom Pynsent's mind was composed of kindly materials, but his perceptions of right were always clear, and his conduct did credit to those perceptions, by resisting, formidably and pertinaciously, every attempt to attract him from the path chalked out by his straightforward, well-judging principles. Lady Wetheral's eloquent and parental complainings roused his best feelings, but Tom Pynsent was at this moment, as he ever had been, perfectly blind to all hints and concealed purposes. He read her ladyship's meaning, simply as a parent mourning her separation from a loved and gentle daughter, and his excellent heart prompted every means of consolation.
"God bless my soul, Lady Wetheral, I feel quite a brute in taking Anna Maria out of the neighbourhood, while you suffer so much—I am sure I am willing to do any thing to lessen your regret! Anna Maria, my dear little duck, what shall we do for Lady Wetheral?"
"To be separated from two daughters at once," remarked Lady Wetheral, despairingly—"to lose two children at once is a serious misery. Julia must live in Staffordshire—she must, and, of course, ought, to settle upon her husband's property: but my dearest Anna Maria need not surely desert us!"