"If you please—oh yes—eh, what?"
Lady Wetheral smiled very complacently as she rose from her seat.
"You have made me very happy, by proposing for my Clara, dear Sir Foster, and we will now return into the boudoir."
Lady Wetheral talked all the way from the drawing-room into her boudoir, while Sir Foster followed, humming and staring, perfectly aware something had happened, yet not quite awake to its nature.
"I am delighted our little society is not to be broken up, my dear Sir Foster: now, you know, every thing will continue in its own charming routine—you will be in your arm-chair now every day, as a thing of course. Sit down, dear Sir Foster; I will open this window; the spring flowers are early and delicious this season. I perceive Lucy and Clara walking in the garden. Ah, I see you have taken possession of your old seat, dear Sir Foster."
Miss Kerrison and Clara were quickly at the door of the boudoir. Clara had seen the signal; the window was at last thrown open.
"Lucy, Lucy, your father is come; let us return to the house," she cried, hastily retracing her steps. Lucy followed instinctively.
"Lucy Kerrison," said Lady Wetheral, taking her hand the moment she appeared, "I have very extraordinary news for you! how are you inclined to receive a mother-in-law, my dear love!"
"Are you going to marry papa?" asked Lucy Kerrison, in extremity of surprise.
"No, my love; Sir John is in excellent health in his study," replied her ladyship, smiling.