"My dear Lucy, it was time to have mercy upon your father and his bride elect, therefore I begged you to withdraw. They must have a tête-à-tête, poor things, to explain their feelings and inquire into each other's habits and tastes. And now, my love, since events have unfolded themselves so rapidly this morning, I must counsel and advise with you. I think it prudent that you should return to Ripley this morning, Lucy; therefore the carriage shall be at your service in two hours." Tears rushed into Lucy Kerrison's eyes.
"You know, my dear love, a separation now is merely a few hours' absence; something more to smile at than weep over—perhaps a day or two, not more. You are aware of your good father's infirmity, Lucy; and I trust to your good sense and kindness to remind him occasionally of his engagement; you understand me, my love."
"Yes, but papa forgets so sadly. After all, he may go off, and sit three hours at Lidham again; and how can I detain him, Lady Wetheral?"
"Circumstances are very different, my love! Yet I do not say Sir Foster may not require a little prompting sometimes; his absence of mind is certainly a disease: perhaps, if you withheld his cane, or concealed his coat—Pelham, you know, might be let into the secret, to watch his master; or, if you sent a message by him, to freshen his recollection; but you will do every thing well, I am sure, my love;—no one more au fait and clever than Lucy Kerrison."
Thus flattered and counselled, Miss Kerrison undertook to watch her father's whereabouts, and Pelham was to be instructed to turn his master's thoughts every morning to his regular ride towards Wetheral. With these "advices" upon her mind, poor Lucy was consigned to the carriage, bearing with her many delightful compliments and invitations to consider Wetheral her second home—many pleasing anticipations of the future—and much triumph that another was going to undertake the management of Ripley, her father's violence, and the frightful contests between himself and the fishmonger.
Clara assured her mother, when Sir Foster had departed, "that though the tête-à-tête had not been a chatty affair, yet such taciturnity proved a very quiet, mild character, which would suit her own warmth of temper. She was very content to be Lady Kerrison, and have Lucy for a companion. Sir Foster loved quiet, therefore he would not interfere with her tastes, or quarrel with her actions. She and Lucy would enjoy themselves, and perhaps be a great deal from home." Lady Wetheral quite acquiesced in Clara's prognostics; there was only one little affair to get over, and that would soften by time and reason, she trusted.
"I mean your father's objection, my love; I dare say he will be horrified at first, because he fancies Sir Foster a little warm in his temper."
"I don't believe he is warm-tempered," replied Clara, haughtily. "If I don't complain, no one need make any objection."
"Exactly so, my love; who can possibly judge of another's tastes? What I consider impetuous, another person may think simply vivacious, and so on. I think, my love, we will not say any thing to your father just now; suppose we allow the subject to remain in abeyance for a few days? Sir John has such very narrow views of worldly advantages; such peculiarly contracted notions upon the luxuries of life."