Christobelle gave the required assurance, that she would herself name the affair to her mother; and Thompson, after making her adieus, and repeating the pleasure she should feel in receiving Miss Chrystal to tea, quitted Wetheral and its eventful scenes, to seek a new home, and become the property of Daniel Higgins.
Christobelle was reading with her father a scene in Macbeth, when Lady Wetheral entered. She had returned from Ripley; and the extreme paleness of her countenance, her trembling hands, and quivering lip, announced some fearful accident or event. She laid her hand upon her husband's shoulder, and looked in his face, but did not utter a word. Sir John grasped her hands, and bade her be composed; but his lady's distress prevented all utterance for some moments: at length, a deep sob relieved her, and she spoke in hurried accents—
"John—the brute has beaten her!"
Sir John feared his lady's intellects were shaken by some horrible accident: he again took both her hands, and seated her, beseeching her to gain calmness, and explain the cause of her agitation. Lady Wetheral placed her hand upon her heart, and wept for some time in silence. It was distressing to look upon her, suffering, without possessing a knowledge of its cause, or being able to soothe its violence. A pause ensued, till the paroxysm of weeping relieved her heart, and enabled her to account for the extraordinary emotion. She took her husband's hand, and spoke in broken sentences.
"John, I did not believe Sir Foster's temper was so bad as people represented—I did not think he would use Clara ill; or, indeed, John, she should never have entered Ripley, to be treated like his spaniel—oh, John!"
"Tell me, at once, Gertrude, what you mean," said her husband, calmly.
"I went to Ripley, John, to give my daughter the delightful information of your having overlooked her little fault; and I entered the sitting-room, where Clara and Sir Foster were quarrelling, oh, so dreadfully!—I was exceedingly shocked—I did not think a daughter of mine would ever quarrel as Clara did, with her husband—it was so underbred—so very vulgar! Sir Foster swore he would kick Clara, if she persevered in her assertion—it was all about a wretched fishmonger.—Clara persisted, and my child was knocked down before my eyes—I saw my beautiful Clara upon the ground; her features swollen, and her dear face crimson. Oh, John, I never saw such a scene!"
Lady Wetheral again wept, and proceeded brokenly to describe her feelings and continue her account.
"I never felt so distressed and shocked in my life! I had always inculcated the propriety of commanding their temper into my daughters' minds. I always laid great stress upon the bad taste of making scenes for servants to report and comment upon. I am sure I lectured my girls by the hour, on the necessity of keeping up appearances, and avoiding scenes—public scenes—which the neighbourhood must ridicule. I cannot bear that Clara should become an object of ridicule. What will Mrs. Pynsent say? Nothing can equal my shocked feelings. I told Sir Foster, he was a brute, too disgusting and monstrous for remark or notice from me; and I assured Clara, her violence of temper had done little credit to my instructions, and ruined her appearance most cruelly. My observations were of no avail; Clara persisted in asserting the odious fishmonger was right in his charges, as she raised herself from the ground, and another blow was struck. Oh, John, I left my child bleeding on the ground—neither of them listened to me, or replied to me. What can be done to hush up this dreadful scene, for my cries brought in three footmen? Oh, John, what is to be done?"