The young ladies walked out in the morning with Chetwynd 5 drove out in the afternoon with Lady Thicknesse; and dined at eight, with nearly the same party, and on an equally good dinner.
Very little progress, however, seemed to be made with the important affair Lady Thicknesse had in hand. Her ladyship began to get tired, and had a private conference with her nephew, Scrope, but he could not help her.
“I cannot make out whether or not Lord Courland has spoken to Emmeline,” she observed. “If he has, she has said nothing to me.”
“Nor has his lordship said anything to me,” rejoined Scrope, “though I have given him several pretty strong hints. The affair must take its course. We shall spoil all by precipitation.”
“I sometimes think Emmeline has a secret attachment,” observed Lady Thicknesse, after a short pause. “If my conjecture be right, it must be for Chetwynd Calverley.”
“Impossible, my dear aunt!” exclaimed Scrope.
“No, it's not impossible,” said Lady Thicknesse. “Chetwynd is an exceedingly fine young gentleman, and calculated to inspire an attachment. I have half resolved to question her.”
“Better write to Lady Barfleur, I think.”
“I have written to my sister, and very cautiously; but, as yet, I have received no answer to my letter.”
“Well, then, wait till you do before taking any steps. Things are going on very smoothly.”