"My wife is under my own charge, thank you," said Mr. Boscawen, bowing smilingly to Mrs. Pynsent.
"Lord, what an ass! Here, Sir Foster, you have tapped a hole in your trowsers with that cane; do move on with Clara Wetheral; she is Anna Maria's bridesmaid. Don't keep humming a tune, my good fellow—get on."
Sir Foster passed on as he was directed, but he took no notice of Mrs. Pynsent's address. He went forward, humming an air, and winking his eye. Clara leaned upon his arm, in white muslin and satin. Never had she looked so very handsome. Perhaps Sir Foster operated as an excitement to her powers of captivation. If a woman could charm Sir Foster Kerrison, she might animate an image of clay; but Clara liked to be spurred on by difficulties.
Tom Pynsent's hunting propensities lay fresh and green at his heart, in spite of circumstance, and a bouquet of geraniums, which bloomed in the button-hole of his coat; for, perceiving Christobelle following the train without a partner, he turned good-humouredly to Henry Tyndal, and called out,—
"Whip in the tail-hound, Harry, and take her to kennel." Christobelle was accordingly escorted into the chapel by Henry Tyndal.
The ceremony ended, which gave Anna Maria for ever to Tom Pynsent, and Julia was saluted Lady Ennismore. Lady Wetheral had reached the summit of her wishes. Which ever way her eye directed its glance, there was glory and triumph. Her two eldest daughters were become head-stones in the county, and Clara was stationed by the side of Sir Foster Kerrison. Could all these things be?
A magnificent breakfast awaited the nuptial cortège, but Sir John Wetheral would not appear at the crowded tables; he retired to his study after the ceremony had concluded, desiring to take leave of his children in the privacy of his own place of refuge. Christobelle remained with him during the déjeûné, and Mr. Boscawen was deputed to take his place in the scene of festivity.
Anna Maria appeared in a quarter of an hour, to receive her father's blessing ere she quitted his roof for some months, and his paternal care for ever. Her father kissed her glowing cheek, and bade her depart in peace. "You have married a good man, and a religious man, my dear child; therefore you will be free from the stings of reproach. The trials of life must fall to your share, but there is one who will kindly share your troubles, and watch over you." He turned to Tom Pynsent. "I give you my child with great satisfaction and pride. I give her to you innocent and good; bring her home untainted by the vices of a foreign land." Anna Maria bent her knee, and received her father's blessing with streaming eyes. She was hurried from his arms into the travelling-carriage which was to convey them to the coast. The gentlemen were all assembled, examining its form and workmanship: but she was silently assisted into her new equipage by her brother-in-law and Mr. Wycherly. They respected her emotion, and forbore to increase it by addressing one word of compliment. Tom Pynsent followed, but his progress was arrested by the solicitude of his mother, who had rushed to the door to look once more upon the athletic form of her beloved son. Recollections of long-past days of parental solicitude overwhelmed Mrs. Pynsent's heart, and produced a flood of tears as she whimpered forth, "I say, Tom."
Tom advanced, and shook hands for the third time, besides offering every filial consolation over again.