"I declare, Thompson, Miss Clara gives me infinitely more trouble than my three eldest daughters combined. I am always fearful of some display of temper occurring in an unfortunate hour to betray her to gentlemen."
"Yes, my lady, that would be sad indeed. I'm sure I am always boasting of Miss Clara's sweet temper, as far as I am concerned."
"I wish her to be silent and calm in appearance, yet I am ever upon the watch to soften Miss Clara's remarks, and explain away offensive looks. I don't think, Thompson, Miss Clara will marry soon."
"Oh, my lady, I have heard many remarks about Sir Foster Kerrison's attentions at my young ladies' wedding!"
"What remarks, Thompson? what do foolish people say now?" asked her lady, affecting nonchalance.
"People say Sir Foster is not a very talkative gentleman, my lady, but then he stood always close to Miss Clara; I heard too he called this morning; so people put two and two together, as they very well may."
"If people calculate so erroneously, they must expect to be wrong in the sum total," replied her ladyship, smiling and internally pleased at remarks having been uttered; "but we shall see, Thompson."
Miss Kerrison's prediction concerning her father's way of sitting hours in silence at people's houses was verified. Having called at Wetheral to see Mr. Boscawen upon some affair connected with horses, and having also remained his usual two hours with the ladies, unnoticed and unbored with attentions which required him to talk, Sir Foster Kerrison, on the following morning, again deposited himself at Wetheral, and was allowed, with the tact of a veteran matron, to sit in a lounging chair, tapping his boot, and winking his eye without molestation. Miss Kerrison took an inventory of the stores deposited in his pockets during the first moment of her father's entrance, an employment he never noticed beyond an absent smile; after which ordeal he was consigned to a half-dozing kind of existence, till Miss Kerrison warned him to depart, by assuring him the clock had struck six. Day after day Sir Foster was found regularly installed in the ladies' boudoir at Wetheral, and as regularly did he depart at his daughter's summons.
Had Lady Wetheral rashly urged Sir Foster to dine at the Castle, it would have broken through the habit which impelled him to move backwards and forwards at stated times, and by certain sounds; it might too have drawn him towards new people and other houses. Lucy Kerrison was perfectly right in her suggestion that, having called by accident, his visits might continue through habit.
There was another advantage attendant upon Sir Foster's morning lounge. Sir John, who rarely appeared out of the precincts of his study, was ignorant of the events which gilded the pleasures of the boudoir. The study was far removed from sights and sounds, and the chapel must be traversed to reach its perfect seclusion. The windows received light from a court, walled round, and closed to curious view by a deep and impervious shrubbery of laurels and evergreen oaks. In this sequestered part of the castle, its master loved to pass his mornings; and how could he suppose his wishes, nay, almost commands, were of non-effect? Sir Foster was not seen at his table—his name was rarely mentioned at Wetheral—no visiting-ticket met his eye—no allusion was made to recent visits on the part of his family—every thing appeared regular and in its usual order. Sir John was, therefore, calm, and almost oblivious to the existence of Sir Foster Kerrison. This was most favourable to his lady's schemes.