Lady Charlotte Campbell Bury

“ 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!" ”

“ She looked haughtily towards Sir Foster, who sat within hearing. "There sits my animal: shall we decide upon the species?"
"Hush, Clara, hush!" softly whispered Mrs. Tom Pynsent.
"My dear Lady Kerrison!" burst from the lips of Miss Wycherly.
"Every one has a name and a place," continued Lady Kerrison, heedless of all caution and counsel. "Pray, Tom Pynsent, assert your opinions as plainly as I do mine, and tell me what a mother deserves, who weds her young and unsuspecting child to a brute, without contemplating her fate in prospect? Pray, Tom Pynsent, what is the conclusion of that fate? ”

“ Isabel is a warm-hearted girl; she must be happy with Boscawen." Christobelle assured him her thoughts were wrapped up in her babe, much more than in Boscawen. Isabel only lived for her child.
"She may think so," replied Sir John, "and you may judge it is so; but when you have lived a little longer, you will both perceive a woman's happiness to depend upon her husband's principles. If he is worthless, she must be miserable; and children increase the misery, if she loves them. Boscawen is a good man, and Isabel is happy. Be careful in your choice, Chrystal." ”

“ I like to see young people employed. Every hour is valuable, and idleness is the mother of mischief, as you may remember writing in your copybook. I hope you are never idle, Miss Wetheral?"
Isabel answered for her sister.
"Oh, dear Tabitha, Chrystal is always reading history and poetry: I am astonished at her learning, for I never could bear reading or writing: I liked my doll best, and dancing with Tom Pynsent."
"We shall like one another, Miss Wetheral, I foresee," said Miss Boscawen, taking no notice of the latter part of Isabel's speech.
At dinner, Isabel sat silent. ”

“ Sir John Wetheral and Christobelle were speedily on their road to Ripley. The morning air was fresh and delicious, for May was on its threshold, and April had passed in smiles. The father's countenance beamed with pleasure, for he was conferring happiness—and his daughter was revelling in delight, because she was rolling towards Isabel, and should enjoy hours of amusement with the kind and patient Mr. Boscawen. All nature smiled under her eager eye, and she fancied the woods of Ripley even more beautiful than the grounds of Wetheral. ”

“ Christobelle was delighted with the polite tact of her manners, as she directed her conversation from John to herself. It is assuredly a great gift to possess that polite ease, and well-directed attention, which gives a flattering unction to the vanity of all who receive its plastic touch. It is the wand of a fairy which turns words into the pearls and diamonds of the little tale—which does so delightfully
"Wash, and comb, and lay us down softly."
No one could exceed Lady Ennismore in that [254] most fascinating, most dangerous gift of attraction. ”

“ Sir Foster smiled and winked, as allusion was made to the known violence of his temper; and he tapped his boot with rapid strokes, when Sir John professed his more powerful objections arose from his constant absence at the house of prayer.—"If," he said, "a man cared not to pray to his Maker, he would never heed the happiness of a creature committed to his care; and he would rather follow his child to the grave, than give her to a man who had no respect to earthly or heavenly things—whose passions were violent, and whose faith was unsettled." ”

“ Her mother wept.
"I know my temper is like the whirlwind, but you never complained of it, or subdued it! You only bid me conceal it when Lucy came here, till I was actually the wife of a monster! I cannot conceal it now, for it chafes under ill treatment. Oh, if you had but checked it in childhood, to meet this extremity!" Clara grew almost madly passionate and vehement; she threw herself upon her knees before her weeping mother. "If ever my misery exceeds my forbearance, it will be your doing, oh! hard-hearted mother! ”

“ Anna Maria caught her hand, as she extended it scornfully towards Sir Foster.
"Now, dear Clara, don't be energetic. I will ask Tom what he thinks. Tom always says things so agreeably."
"I will say what is true, if it proves disagreeable," replied Clara, withdrawing her hand from Anna Maria's light grasp, and again pointing attention, by a graceful movement, to Sir Foster, who sat silently winking his eye. "If there is a creature born to be a blessing to woman—patient, gentle, and interesting—look at that man." ”

“ Pynsent gazed after her son with proud delight.
"I say, Bobby, there he goes! Didn't I tell you he would love to see his dogs round him? Bless him, his mother knew his tastes. There's his little wife gone off with her father! She does not stay to look at Tom. She doesn't care for his whims, Sally Hancock—how should a Wetheral care for any thing?—I don't, and I can't, abide a woman who is indifferent to Tom's whims."
"Don't mob the Wetherals, Pen; it's only the old lady: they can't help their mother." ”

“ I tell you not to marry a selfish, heartless man, as Clara and Julia have done, to secure wealth and rank, which they will never enjoy in peace—which they will never enjoy in respectability. It is a hard fate, but even the young must endure it if they barter peace for riches. God help them! their poor mother has done this, and I did not act a father's part by them!" Sir John seated himself, and Christobelle knelt by him, and held his hand to her lips, and kissed it repeatedly. ”

“ Her eyes were heavy, for she closed them as she spoke.
"Is that you, Thompson? I have had such horrible dreams: your master is going into Scotland, and poor Miss Clara will be taken away from Sir Foster, after all my trouble."
"It is me, mamma," whispered Christobelle.
"Well, well," replied her mother, petulantly, "never mind who it is, you are equally included in this dreadful Fairlee business. I shall never live to reach Scotland: the dullness of the place—no neighbourhood—all old married men—not a match there fit for Clara—altogether it will kill me." ”

“ Miss Wycherly passed on with her lover, and the Wetherals entered their carriage in silence. Sir John sighed heavily, and did not enter into any conversation with his daughter during their drive home: doubtless there was bitterness in his thoughts. Christobelle lost all painful recollections of the emotion caused by Mrs. Pynsent's conversation, in pleasing remembrance of the pleasures of the day. She had enjoyed herself with the pure, unalloyed happiness which attends youth, ere it is pursued by care, and before it endures disappointment. ”

“ Christobelle never remembered her so captivating as she appeared at this moment, when her attention was engrossed in watching her child. The tears of grateful remembrance were upon her cheek, yet smiles were chasing every emotion from her heart, but those of tenderness and a mother's pride. Mr. Boscawen looked on, enchanted. Isabel, in the fullness of her heart, turned for the first time since her arrival to Miss Boscawen.
"Ah, Tabitha, I am sure you will be one of our party round the Castle Hill, to enjoy my babe's crowing delight. Do put away your work, and join us." ”

“ Sir Foster walked fiercely towards his lady, without taking notice of Lady Wetheral or Christobelle, who stood amazed, as he advanced to the sofa; he did not even wink his eye. Clara remained in haughty expectation of his address, her head thrown back, and her eye flashing defiance. "Now, sir, are you come to beard me at Wetheral!" was her indignant exclamation; "are you come here to prove how brutally you can treat a woman, even in her father's house?" ”

“ The Countess patted Julia's cheek.
"My dear love, you cannot know a mother's agonising, though, perhaps, foolish fears. A young wife is not aware of the nature of unpleasing symptoms, such as I fear I see arising in my son's system. Sir John, I think we may assert it as a fact, that a parent's anxiety is even more keenly acute than a wife's alarm."
Sir John did not agree with her ladyship. He thought parental pangs must be to every heart a bitter trial; but a wife's welfare, or a husband's health, must be a paramount interest. To his idea, a mother's affection must bow to that of a wife. ”

“ Boscawen. She rejoiced to think her sister was loving him as she had always loved him—that her studies must in future be as pleasing to her sister, as they had ever appeared to herself—that they should now enjoy the dressing-room together, as sincerely as she had formerly abhorred it. Christobelle's countenance betrayed the thoughts of her heart, for Isabel gave her a smiling glance as she gazed upon her; and the annoyances of the journey faded away in the contemplation of her happy, contented position, as she still held Mr. Boscawen's hand, while the babe lay sleeping in her lap. ”

“ Clara released her grasp, and Christobelle fled to a distant chair, to remain a spectator of the ensuing scene.
"Clara," said her mother, reproachfully, "what could induce you to blame me, for your own impolitic conduct? If I wished to see you the wife of a man standing high in situation, I [128] never counselled you to forget the proprieties of life."
"You held up Sir Foster to my view, as a match which you prayed for, and desired me never to relinquish," retorted Clara, with passionate energy. "You have married me to a heartless brute, and now you turn against me!" ”