Lady Wetheral trembled, which was ever a prelude to hysterics, but her husband's temper was now tried "to the top of its bent," and he heeded not the increasing symptoms.
"Lord Ennismore has been duped into making Julia an offer."
"I meant him for Clara, love, not Julia," cried his lady, hoping to ward off his reproach.
"And you have given one of your daughters, Gertrude, to a creature diseased in body and mind."
"What does that signify, my love? Julia will not think of his looks a month after her marriage, and she will be a peeress, with an immense estate."
"You are marrying her to an idiot of quality."
"Fiddlededee, Sir John, he enters a room as well as other people. Who makes a fuss about intellects, if a man of large fortune proposes to their daughter? I should die with shame if you advanced such musty notions before company. Besides, you asked Lord Ennismore to Wetheral yourself."
"I did so," replied Sir John, "I did so; but I believed my daughters must be safe in their affections. I could not suppose Lord Ennismore would attract a woman's love; and I will not believe Julia cares for him. You have tutored her, Gertrude, to barter her soul for a coronet, and your system has corrupted her heart and feelings."
He paced the room in unusual agitation of manner. Lady Wetheral perceived the tide of her powerful influence over her husband's mind was fast ebbing, and a coup de main was the last resource of her inventive genius. She became indignant.