"Never mind, my love, look pleasantly at Sir Foster, and leave the minutiæ to me. We must lead him gently and gradually to make Wetheral a daily resting-place; and while Lucy is here, it can be done. Pray, Clara, endeavour to check your temper before Lucy. I should not wish her to report unfavourably of your manners at Ripley; so much depends upon your trying to appear good-humoured—do, my love."
With evident painful effort, Clara did manage to conceal her irritable nature from the particular observation of her friend Miss Kerrison, who was the main spring of that machinery which was to involve her father. To Lucy Kerrison Lady Wetheral directed the most flattering attentions, and offered the most agreeable series of parties of pleasure; to her young and unsuspicious ear was consigned every compliment which could lull observation, awaken her love, and interest her in all Lady Wetheral's actions. In short, a separation from Clara and the delights of Wetheral was becoming unbearable to the heart and imagination of poor Miss Kerrison, and her eyes filled with tears of real sorrow, soon made apparent to her ladyship's quick apprehension, the regret with which her young guest contemplated a return to Ripley. This was, to use her favourite expression, "all in their favour;" and she mentioned the circumstance to Sir John in her own way.
"This poor, dear Lucy Kerrison, my love, is sadly overcome at the thoughts of leaving us. Clara and herself are exceedingly attached; the tears rush to her eyes whenever the subject is alluded to."
"Miss Kerrison is a ladylike, nice girl," replied Sir John.
"Yes, my love, she is quite the companion Clara should have. I approve her good and judicious selection. I wish they may often meet."
Sir John did not reply, and a short pause succeeded.
"I could almost wish Lucy was going to remain with us for Clara's sake. If I thought Sir Foster would not object, I would request him not to recall her."
"Isabel is still with us, Gertrude; Clara has her two sisters."
"Yes—to be sure—oh, yes, Mrs. Boscawen is here, but she is never visible till the half-hour bell rings. I see very little of poor Isabel myself, and Clara still less. Bell is shut up, too, in the schoolroom, learning to be over-wise and disagreeable; besides, my love, Bell can be no companion to Clara. I wonder Sir Foster does not call to see his daughter! do you know, my love, he has been but once within this fortnight to see us."
"His company is not particularly acceptable, Gertrude."