Sir John Wetheral's visits to Lidham were of daily occurrence; he longed to clasp his poor fugitive to his heart; but Lady Ennismore's present situation required care, and all agitating interviews were prohibited. It was only when the torpor which had seized upon her became alarming by its continuance, that her father's presence was advised, to try its effect upon her mind. If that interview did not awaken her powers, it was feared that nothing henceforth would rouse her from the stillness of death, till she forgot for ever the cares which had disturbed her short pilgrimage. Mrs. Spottiswoode urged the interview with anxious hope: she knew Julia's strong affections, and she felt firmly convinced that if any earthly object could rouse her, it would be the sight of her indulgent parent. Sir John Wetheral was accordingly summoned to appear unexpectedly before Lady Ennismore.
Julia was seated in her arm-chair, with her eyes fixed on the ground, when Christobelle entered her chamber in the evening; but, as usual, no sign of recognition took place. Miss Wetheral advanced towards her sister, and offered her arm. "Julia, let us take one turn round the room."
Lady Ennismore rose without speaking, and mechanically took the arm of Christobelle, but she did not raise her eyes. Miss Wetheral spoke again.
"Julia, look there!"
Lady Ennismore's eye slowly followed the direction of her sister's hand, which pointed towards the door. A scream burst from her lips, and she flew into his arms. The sight of her father did rouse every recollection!
It is needless to dwell upon a scene so fraught with distress, or to describe the affecting interview. It would be painful to repeat Lady Ennismore's self-upbraidings, or to recount her father's soothing, and most parental words of comfort. He welcomed his Julia to his heart and home, with endearments which went deep into her grateful heart, and spoke peace to her broken spirit. It was a scene which Mrs. Spottiswoode and Christobelle never forgot. The tears they shed that evening bore testimony to their deep emotion.
When Sir John Wetheral and his daughter became more tranquil, Mrs. Spottiswoode would have terminated the interview, but Julia clung to her father's arm, and would not be separated from him. She would now, she said, open her heart to those so dear to her, that the work of a long absence might be confided to her parent's breast, and he should judge if her flight was rashly done. Mrs. Spottiswoode feared a relapse; but Julia would not hear of rest. "Let me speak now, Penelope, while my spirit is equal to the task. I may be ill, but my story must be told; my father must be told; it will be a relief to know I need recur to the past no more. Let me speak now, Penelope."
Lady Ennismore recapitulated the events which had taken place since her father's visit to Bedinfield, and described her distress at finding he had departed without bidding her farewell. "Her mother-in-law had assured her so calmly that they would depart, and declined remaining another day to ascertain my lord's sudden attack, that she could not disbelieve the assertion, and the thought had given her severe pain. Profound silence, too, rested upon the transactions at Wetheral; not once had she received a letter from the home which professed to love her so tenderly. Not once did they acknowledge the numberless letters she had written, to entreat their consideration, and to implore them to answer her anxieties.
"After her father's departure from Bedinfield, as she thought, so coldly, so unkindly! her heart sank, and she became gloomy. Her lord received her as a stranger into his apartments during an illness of long continuance, while the Dowager remained stationed by his side, and her spirits could not endure the insulting banishment. She prayed to visit her home, to see again her friend Miss Wycherly, to ask the reason of their silence, and demand their withdrawn affection. Her request was refused; but it was done so gently, so persuasively by her mother-in-law, that she could only weep while she acquiesced in their wishes to remain at Bedinfield.
"She began to fear Lord Ennismore did not love her; she began to suspect the politeness of his mother, whose manners had so long blinded her reason by their soft fascinations, but who had never, in a single instance, yielded to her wishes, or considered her rights as the real mistress of Bedinfield. That unchangingly-polite and flattering suavity had proved the firmest bar to her happiness; for it had left her without the power of complaint, while her heart was wrung with disappointed feelings. They had carried her almost broken-hearted to Florence."