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LONDON:
F. SHOBERL, JUN., 51, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET,
PRINTER TO H. R. H. PRINCE ALBERT.
THE
MANŒUVRING MOTHER.
CHAPTER XII.
Sir Foster Kerrison's entrance into the greatdrawing-room at Wetheral was an epoch in itsannals. It was the precursor of stirring matter.Lady Wetheral received him with great amenityof manner; and any other gentleman might haveperceived a look of anxious care in her eyes.Sir Foster, however, saw nothing; he did noteven observe that her ladyship was alone. Habitdirected him to a seat in the direction of thelounging-chair, which stood in the boudoir, andwhen his hat was placed upon a table, therewas nothing to interfere with his dolce far niente.Sir Foster sat down, tapping his boot and winkinghis eye, in happy ignorance of coming events.
Lady Wetheral allowed some little time toelapse in silence, ere she commenced proceedings;but, when Sir Foster had taken root, andlooked steadily deposited for three hours atleast, the case was gently opened. Lady Wetheraldrew near, and seated herself oppositeher neighbour.
"Sir Foster Kerrison, I beg your attention fora few moments."
Sir Foster made no reply, but a ratherquickened tapping of the boot assured her shewas heard. Miss Kerrison had innocentlyenough supplied the key to her father's meaning,and movements.
"Perhaps, my dear Sir Foster, you aresomewhat surprised at the absence of Lucy andClara."
Sir Foster looked round the room, and smiled.
"Clara is not allowed to return again to yoursociety, my dear Sir Foster, for very essentialand painful reasons." Lady Wetheral paused,but she might have continued ad libitum forhours: Sir Foster neither perceived the absenceof his daughter and Clara, nor understood thedrift of her remarks. Lady Wetheral's quicknessdetected at once the obtuseness of hercompanion; she perceived the uselessness of[3]hints and sighs, and broken sentences, in thepresent instance. Tom Pynsent yielded at onceto their influence, but Sir Foster required acoup de main to rouse his feelings and attention.Another line of conduct was therefore chosen.
"Sir Foster Kerrison, you have behaved veryill to my daughter!"
"God bless me!" cried Sir Foster, almoststarting. "Eh! what?"
"If your intentions are not honourable, SirFoster Kerrison, I, as a mother, demand achange of conduct on your part."
"Lucy ill, or any thing?" demanded SirFoster, in surprise.
"Miss Kerrison is well," replied Lady Wetheral,with emphasis.
"Oh, umph!"
Sir Foster sank again comfortably into thearm-chair.
Provok