Julia turned her head towards Lady Ennismore; joy and affection sparkled in her eye, but she did not speak.
"Ah, you are so charming, dear Lady Ennismore," exclaimed Isabel—"how I wish Mr. Boscawen would make me repose on roses, and leave that horrid 'Universal History,' which puzzles me to death. I don't think you are in spirits, my dear Anna Maria; but you need not be afraid of Tom Pynsent, I'm sure—he was the very best partner I ever had. I'm sure Tom will spoil you. He allowed me always to call the same country dance, though I know he would have preferred any other. You need not fear, my dear Anna Maria. I shall ask Mrs. Pynsent, to-morrow, if any body need fear dear Tom. Oh, Miss Wycherly, that is the very sweetest comb I ever saw—and my blue silk looks so dowdy by the side of your darling dress, Miss Spottiswoode!"
Lady Wetheral approached Isabel, and complimented her upon her improved looks during her stay at Wetheral.
"Oh, do you think so, mamma? I know I wish I was not in the family way, for I must be confined at Brierly, Mr. Boscawen says; and the place is so large and dull.—Anna Maria, I wish I was going to Paris with you—any where, to get out of Miss Tabitha's way. Oh, Julia, I hope you won't be in the family way soon, for it is terrible to be such a size, and your figure is so lovely."
"Ring for coffee, Chrystal," said Lady Wetheral, in gentle tones, but suffering acutely under the laugh which was raised by Isabel's speech.
"Oh, don't ring for coffee, yet," cried Isabel. "I have so much to say, and Mr. Boscawen will leave the dining-room if he hears a bell.—No, don't order coffee, yet. Clara, I must not utter Sir Foster's name, because Mr. Boscawen tells me not; but I think I know whose wedding will be next. I saw him in the avenue to-day! ah ha!—I really think you are too handsome for Sir Foster—now I am going to make a match for dear Chrystal."
So ran on the happy, gay-hearted Isabel, perfectly blind to Lady Wetheral's agony of mind, and her efforts to turn the conversation into other hands. Miss Spottiswoode and Miss Wycherly encouraged Isabel's ingenuous and indiscreet powers of chat.
"Chrystal," repeated her ladyship, "I am pining for coffee."
"No, no, I vow you shall not approach the bell," cried Isabel, arresting Christobelle's hand as she prepared to obey the hint. "My dear mamma, don't be thirsty yet, I have so much to say. Do you know I have only recovered my old spirits within these four days, and they will expire again the moment I set off for Brierly. If you ring for coffee, Mr. Boscawen will rise up before me like Samuel at the Witch of Endor's call, which I read this morning to him."
"Do you really read a chapter every morning, besides studying arts and sciences?" asked Miss Wycherly, seating herself on a stool beside Isabel. "Now, girls, form a circle, and listen to Mrs. Boscawen's prospectus of married education."