"Considers a fiddlestick, my Lady Wetheral!" replied Mrs. Pynsent, knotting with great energy. "What young girl considers herself agreeable with no playfellows, and a hipped Lady-mother? No, no; air, my lady—exercise, my lady—companions, my lady: that is poor Miss Bell's proper entertainment. Tom will ride with her, poor thing."
Lady Wetheral did not condescend to reply to this sally. However lowly Christobelle stood in her eyes, however petulant she might be to the "stupid, awkward girl herself," "poor thing!" sounded most offensively to her ear. Anna Maria again interfered by ringing the bell, and begging that Mr. Tom Pynsent might be summoned from the library. Tom's presence, she knew, was always desirable every where; but his mother's attention would be riveted upon her son, and Lady Wetheral would escape the inevitable contention which followed her own remarks. This was the first time the ladies had ever been placed a whole morning in juxtaposition. Anna Maria was sure the visit would never take place again. Each party would decline a second day of family intercourse.
Tom Pynsent's entrance with Sir John effected a change in every one's situation. Christobelle was to ride; Mrs. Pynsent decided upon that measure, and her father enforced it. He was then to do the honours of the conservatory and gardens to his guest, while the mother and daughter worked and conversed tête-à-tête. So far, all was prudently arranged, and promised peace.
Christobelle was enchanted with her ride. Tom Pynsent did not possess conversational powers, but his want of talent was more than balanced by invincible good-nature, and manly courage of body and mind. Christobelle loved him for his kind heart and anxious wish to make every body happy; and she loved him for the devotion he expressed for Anna Maria at all times, and in all places. It was not an uxorious affection, effeminate, and annoying to witness. Tom Pynsent loved with his whole heart the woman who possessed his name, and was to share his fortunes. He loved her with a manly tenderness, which displayed itself in a thousand forms, and raised him in public estimation by its amalgamation with his very existence. It connected his wife with the stable and the kennel; it connected her with all his amusements. She was part and parcel of every thing in which he was concerned. What a man had Julia thrown from herself, ere he discovered Anna Maria's love and sufferings!
Tom Pynsent shewed Christobelle, with infinite satisfaction, the spots most consecrated to memory, as the scenes of Anna Maria's confessions. He seemed to linger with pleasure in the lane where his wife first disclosed her long-concealed misery, and where he had dismounted to impress a thousand kisses upon her hand. His tone changed, as he recapitulated his astonishment and delight.
"By Jove, when I think of all this, I could never bear to ride here, if any thing happened to my little wife; but I hope not—I hope she will see me into my grave, and be comfortable with you all. She would do very well without me, but I couldn't exist without her. I should let Kerrison have the kennel then, and take the shoes off the hunters. By Jove, they might turn out for life, then."
Christobelle listened to her brother's remarks with great interest; she could not understand the deep affection of his heart at that time, but she was sensible to the compliment of being the depository of his thoughts. She was delighted with his notice and attention; and particularly felt its pleasing influence, because her mother undervalued and reproached her daily and hourly at Wetheral. She was very sorry when their ride was brought to a close, and she again returned to her apartment to dress for dinner.
Anna Maria joined her sister; her hair was forced into immense curls, by her French attendant, Félicé, and her ringlets were frizzed into bows. Félicé followed her mistress in green silk. Such a novelty was rare and alarming in Shropshire; they had heard of the allied sovereigns being at that moment in London, but nothing approaching to a foreigner had yet appeared at Shrewsbury. Félicé was a creature to be stared at, and Anna Maria would become most formidably fashionable when once the knowledge of her arrival should transpire. Anna Maria said, "she had brought her maid to friz Christobelle's very English head of hair into something like effect. She bade her look in the glass, and smile at her hair, combed straight in front, and just turned up at the back. It was something that would horrify De Nolis in the autumn. She must positively have it dressed properly."
"See now, Félicé; Miss Wetheral's hair must be dressed this way."