"If your intentions are not honourable, Sir Foster Kerrison, I, as a mother, demand a change of conduct on your part."
"Lucy ill, or any thing?" demanded Sir Foster, in surprise.
"Miss Kerrison is well," replied Lady Wetheral, with emphasis.
"Oh, umph!"
Sir Foster sank again comfortably into the arm-chair.
Provoking man! Was there no way of chaining such a creature? Her ladyship's patience was inexhaustible. Perhaps a still more decided manner might effect the purpose. Lady Wetheral took a high tone.
"Sir Foster Kerrison, the neighbourhood have reported you are addressing my daughter. I wish to know if you are aware of this report: Miss Wetheral shall not be trifled with, Sir Foster!"
The tapping increased in velocity, and Sir Foster's eye winked with prodigious rapidity. Her ladyship became gradually more resolute and parental.
"If my child is to be made wretched, Sir Foster Kerrison, a mother's offended heart will urge its claims to be heard, and her lips will express its horror at such baseness. She will tell you how detestably wicked it is to come, day after day, and sit hours, with an innocent, trusting girl, who fondly believes there is truth and honour in your soul. No parent can mistake the aim of your visits, Sir Foster, but I will know if it is meant in honour. I will hear no base apologies, no wicked evasions—is my daughter to be Lady Kerrison, or is she to pine away in solitary, unrequited attachment? Is Miss Wetheral to become pointed at as a refused and melancholy picture of disappointed love; or is my lovely Clara to be your happy, affectionate wife, Sir Foster Kerrison?" The lady's voice sounded agitated and heart-broken at the conclusion of her speech.
Sir Foster looked bewildered. He heard the epithets "base" and "wicked," without comprehending their purport, or having a connecting idea of the sentences which fell from Lady Wetheral's lips with such voluble earnestness. He only heard distinctly the concluding words, "Is my lovely Clara to be your happy, affectionate wife, Sir Foster?" and he replied with quiet nonchalance,