"Oh, Clara!" Christobelle exclaimed, "do not persist in using provoking words—oh, be like Isabel!"
"I'll be Clara Wetheral," she replied, indignantly; "I will never submit to tyranny, or crouch to brutality. I would spurn a quarrel about a salmon! Beat a woman about a salmon!—is there a coward upon earth who would dare have acted as this man has done?"
Sir Foster appeared irritated to the top of his bent, and his hand was raised to strike. Sir John Wetheral could be silent no longer; he called to his son-in-law, in piercing tones, "Kerrison, be a man!" Sir Foster did not touch Clara—he turned away with a great effort, and resumed his seat; but he closed his fist, and shook it at his wife.
"If I don't wallop you some day properly!"
"Ay, when the fishmonger returns," answered Clara, in taunting tones.
The father's distress at witnessing this scene cannot be described. A parent may feel with him the desolation of heart he endured, as he listened to his daughter's unadvised and unwomanly railing, and comprehend his deeply-pained, disgusted feelings—but no pen can depict it. He stood for some moments unable to master his emotion; and, to all appearance, he was bowed down under its influence. Christobelle was sure the effect of this scene would have a fearful result, and that his mind would dwell upon the reckless conduct of Clara, and her future destiny, till his health would suffer. When utterance returned to his opened lips, which had essayed in vain to move, Sir John advanced to Sir Foster, and spoke kindly, but firmly.
"I have seen a dreadful quarrel between two people, who are my near relations, and who have been married three months: this is a sight, Sir Foster...."
"Plaguy devil!" muttered Sir Foster.
"I have seen great provocation on Clara's part, but I beseech you never to lay your hand upon my daughter, as you hope to see your own children happy in marriage."