"My dear Miss Wetheral, a certain gentleman's gallant and unequivocal admiration of a nameless beauty, proves his excellent discriminating powers. I admire the lover, and approve his suit. I wish I had a daughter who was fortunate enough to attract Mr. Pynsent."
Anna Maria did not love Lady Ennismore; she even shrank from her address in general; yet her expressed approval of Tom Pynsent at once gained belief, and gave pleasure to her heart. On all sides, congratulations awaited her. Her father added his approval, and it was given with feeling and earnestness. Before all the assembled family-party, he told her he had no fears for her welfare, as the wife of an honest, high-principled man. He could congratulate her upon an engagement which must bring happiness to a woman who valued the texture of a heart such as Pynsent possessed. His wealth might surround her person with luxuries, but his good qualities alone could secure her peace of mind. He trusted Anna Maria would appreciate and hold fast the affections of her future husband, and her lot would fall upon good ground. Pynsent was a man to whom he could intrust a daughter's happiness, and have no fears for her futurity.
Anna Maria's spirits were subdued under her father's earnest observations; her happiness, the suddenness of the event, and her future prospects, combined with the congratulations of her family, overpowered a mind which had long borne the alternations of hope, suspense, and fear. She sought refuge in her own room; Lady Wetheral and Julia followed; the one to offer soothing remedies, and to rejoice with her sister in the termination of her sorrow; the other to triumph in the success of her scheme: her ladyship's delight was boundless. To marry two daughters in one day to the first matches in Shropshire and Staffordshire, seemed an affair beyond common calculation: the lottery of life rarely threw two prizes consecutively into a family; and certainly her own generalship had secured both. In the exuberance of her spirits, she confessed to the sisters the ruse she had practised to elicit an offer from Tom Pynsent. Anna Maria was distressed.
"Oh, mamma, how could you take such a method; practising upon Tom's fears to hasten a declaration! How you frighten me; I might have lost him!"
"Poor Greenhorn! no, you had no chance of losing him; he was too much in love. I only prepared the way for him, to hasten the catastrophe. I particularly wished him to propose, because my mind is bent upon the double wedding, therefore I applied the goad very gently, but he answered the whip. The instant I mentioned your rides being discontinued, I saw the thing was done. My only hope now is, that Clara may succeed as you have done. There will be some difficulty in obtaining Mrs. Pynsent's consent perhaps, but I do not doubt a little management may succeed there too. Mrs. Pynsent is violent, but seldom firm; she will chafe and use very strong language, but she will be busy and delighted at your wedding, my love."
"But why do you consider Mrs. Pynsent objects, mamma?" asked Anna Maria, in alarm.
"Oh, she has some stupid notion that I have laid plans for her son, I fancy. Now, to suppose that I hunt for sons-in-law is absolute absurdity. I wish my children to marry well, I confess, but no one detests fortune-hunting more than I do. I consider a manœuvring mother a nuisance in society, and, therefore, Mrs. Pynsent's notion is ridiculous—too ridiculous even to confute. I shall get your father to make an intimate acquaintance with Sir Foster Kerrison, Julia. He is a widower, but his eleven children would not interfere with Clara's comforts: some may die, and the others might be sent to school. I don't believe a word about his kicking his servants; if scandalous reports were believed, very few of us could escape infamy. Servants are vile creatures, and would destroy any character. Sir Foster is a very fine man, and not to be rejected because he may occasionally lose his temper. There are many provocations in life, which now and then cause a man's temper to ferment a little, but what would that signify to Clara? Tom Pynsent uses a few, perhaps, unnecessary oaths, but he means nothing; his temper is excellent: Sir Foster probably means no more. I shall ask his eldest daughter to Wetheral, when you are all gone; indeed, I shall require amusement; my spirits will be depressed enough when that melancholy day arrives, my dear girls."
Lady Wetheral's voice fell, and a deep sigh succeeded: she soon resumed, more gaily—