"I require your assurance that you will for ever renounce all idea of a son-in-law as far as Sir Foster Kerrison is concerned."
"Do you know, love, I see the hand of Boscawen in your determined dislike of Kerrison. That man has enormous influence with you; and when he married a woman young enough to be his granddaughter, it ought to have silenced him upon the subject of matrimony. Lady Ennismore has heard my reasons in favour of Sir Foster, and it was but yesterday I was speaking upon the subject with her ladyship. Lady Ennismore has returned in high feather from Bedinfield, my love, and looks nearly as young as Julia; does she not? She assured me Thursday would be the brightest day in her calendar of pleasures. I am sure it will be a day of proud delight to me!"
"I will not allow you to include Sir Foster Kerrison in the bridal party, Gertrude. I wish you to understand that I object to every species of intimacy with the Ripley family."
"My dear John, why did you not express your wishes earlier? I have indeed asked that pretty, cheerful creature, Lucy Kerrison, to spend a few days with Clara when she loses her sisters, and I felt obliged to include her father in the wedding arrangements. I am sorry your odd ways of thinking prevent so many agreeable circumstances from becoming valued, but so it is, and I cannot decline Sir Foster's society without a cogent reason to apologise for my change of manner."
"I only object to the man on Clara's account," replied Sir John, considerably annoyed at the intelligence.
"What nonsense, Sir John! Do I insist upon the girl's falling in love, or do I lay violent hands upon the owner of Ripley?"
"Not exactly, Gertrude, but I object to your eternal plans and manœuvres, which tend to the same effect."
Lady Wetheral kissed her hand playfully.
"Avaunt such notions! A mother is a very different being from a father. One is all tenderness and anxiety for the future; the other dreams heavily, and not always wisely, over the present. Look at Chrystal there, sitting bolt upright, with her hair in such masses, and her throat covered up like the picture of Heloise. You find her necessary to your amusement now, but you are blind to her future advantage. Who will ask for a wife from the alarming precincts of your bookroom? Who will care to please a girl brought up among authors, full of self-importance, and whose conversation will preclude her from pleasing others?"
"Christobelle is a very agreeable companion," was her father's reply.