Mr. Boscawen was admitted as an accepted lover, and Isabel did not regret her acceptance of a man who listened with admiration and interest to her remarks, and who never turned from her brusquerie with the disgust her mother could not conceal towards her. Mr. Boscawen at five and forty looked with delight upon Isabel, whose extreme youth and beauty threw a halo around her uneducated mind. Her rich and joyous laugh pleased the taciturn nature of his mind; he was charmed by her innocence, and untired by her ceaseless prattle; therefore was Mr. Boscawen her constant and loved companion, whom her eye sought in all companies and at all moments, and to whom her inmost thoughts were communicated. She loved to hang upon his arm, and take long walks with her darling Boscawen; she delighted to drive his tilbury, and exhibit the cloak of long promise—to chat freely, and, as she expressed it in confidence to Julia, to rattle away about nothing, and be just as much admired, as though she spoke sense, like Anna Maria.
Isabel's wedding-day was to herself a day of extravagant enjoyment and agreeable confusion. She was going to a home of her own—to be called in future "Mrs. Boscawen," and to receive the compliments of the bridal-party. There was a large company to breakfast, and the Spottiswoodes were of the chosen number who had the pleasure of congratulating Isabel upon her magnificent prospects. Isabel thanked Miss Spottiswoode for her friendly wishes.
"Now, I am married, dear Sophy, I wish you were all going to do the same thing. I should so have liked four or five weddings at once! but you will all come and see me, and we will have such merriment; won't we, Mr. Boscawen?"
Mr. Boscawen bowed smilingly to Isabel's appeal, and she proceeded—
"I will drive you all in the tilbury, when you come to Brierly; it holds only Mr. Boscawen and myself now, but I dare say we can squeeze four. Mr. Boscawen is very stout, and his coat covers an acre of ground; doesn't it, Mr. Boscawen?"
Lady Wetheral became visibly uneasy at Isabel's loquacity, and endeavoured to change the subject; but Mrs. Boscawen was too happy and too unsuspecting to observe a hint, or detect a look; her heart was full of hope, and revelling in novel situations. She talked on, inviting every body to Brierly, and appealing to Mr. Boscawen if he would not be delighted to have his house as full as it could hold. The bridal carriage drawing to the door relieved Lady Wetheral's distress.
At the parting moment, Isabel preserved her serenity, while her sisters wept over the kind-hearted companion they were now to lose. Isabel's gentleness of temper, her buoyant spirits, and warm affections, endeared her to all her family-circle, and they doubly valued her excellence when her society was on the eve of being withdrawn for ever. Isabel smiled as radiantly as usual under the repeated embraces of her weeping sisters, and cheered their grief.
"My dear girls, you see I am married, and, as mamma says, I can do what I like, I mean to have each of you with me in turn, so pray do not cry. Julia, you will come first, and we will have such fun, haymaking! shan't we, Mr. Boscawen? And Clara, when you come to me, we will gallop over the country on ponies; won't we, Mr. Boscawen?"
Mr. Boscawen kissed Isabel's hand without reply, and her father led her to her carriage. The new equipage struck her eye.
"Oh, mamma! how you will delight in my carriage! It's quite my own; is it not, Mr. Boscawen? When you come to Brierly, we will drive about all day. You know you said it would be the best part of the show."