The Manoeuvring Mother (Vol. 1-3). Lady Charlotte Campbell Bury
"Tell Tom I will congratulate him, if he will come and see me." Mrs. Hancock winked her eye.
"Tom never will come near you till you leave off your broad jokes, Sally Hancock. I wish you would not offend people in that way. I can't ask you among ladies and gentlemen."
"Lord, Pen, how can I leave off old habits at my time of life?" Mrs. Hancock put her finger to her eye and looked innocent.
"Then Bobby and Tom will never visit you, or allow me to ask you to Hatton for more than one day. That's all you get by old habits, Sally Hancock."
"Tom is mighty nice; I wouldn't give a farthing for such a nephew."
"I'll trouble you not to abuse Tom, Sally Hancock," cried her sister, who was touched on a most sensitive point by this remark. "Tom is always right, and his mother will always uphold him. You must have a very genteel dialect, when two gentlemen cannot sit in your society comfortably."
"When shall I see you again? don't be scolding, Pen; I'm not used to scolding, now poor Hancock is gone."
"I'll come to Lea, as soon as Tom's affairs are settled, but never call Tom names before me, Sally Hancock; you know I cannot bear it. Tom shall marry too if he pleases, and no one shall offer an opinion against the match before me."
"Nor before me either," cried Mrs. Hancock.
"Before you! who ever comes before you, except myself?" asked Mrs. Pynsent, stopping short, as they were advancing towards the door, at which the pony-carriage was drawn up.
"Oh! Tomkins, the exciseman, comes for a bit of chat, and the old Ripley housekeeper has retired here, so I often hear the news. This is a very cheerful place."
"Don't frighten away the exciseman, Sally Hancock."
"Never fear, Pen; the exciseman is not made of such dainty materials as my nephew."
So ended the interview between the sisters; and Mrs. Pynsent returned to Hatton, resolved internally to support her son's wishes, and to offend any person who presumed to reflect upon his taking a "Wetheral."
CHAPTER VIII.
News of any trifling occurrence passes rapidly round a neighbourhood; but news of bridal import speeds with increased velocity through every department. It was soon known to every individual in the establishment, that Mr. Pynsent was accepted by Miss Wetheral, and in less than twenty-four hours the event was generally current in the higher circles of the Wetheral acquaintance. Separated as many mansions were from each other's observation by large intermediate property, it was wonderful how the intelligence could gain such powerful progress, yet it was publicly spoken of as an assured fact the following evening at Lady Spottiswoode's; and Lady Wetheral's extraordinary good fortune was canvassed in every particular.
Mrs. Pynsent's publicly-expressed disapprobation of a daughter-in-law from Wetheral, was commented upon with eagerness, and many anxious friends of both parties looked with mingled curiosity and amusement to the effects likely to emanate from Hatton. Miss Wycherly consented to escort a party upon a congratulatory mission to her aunt Pynsent, and she undertook to drive Lady Spottiswoode and her daughter to Hatton, accompanied by the two Mr. Tyndals.
It was an evil day to Miss Wycherly. Ever since the eventful ball, which produced the present cause of her intended visit, Mr. Spottiswoode had never renewed the subject which she had treated so lightly, or sought her society, his once constant anxiety and invariable daily practice. Since that eventful ball, so happy in its results to one party, so gloomy in its termination to herself—since that night, when her rash spirits tempted her to jest with her lover's serious wish to understand her sentiments, had Mr. Spottiswoode been a stranger to Lidham; and most rashly had Miss Wycherly persevered in flirting with Mr. Henry Tyndal, to evince her indifference to Mr. Spottiswoode's prolonged absence, and to bring down upon herself, ultimately, the reproach of having given encouragement to Henry Tyndal ungenerously and dishonourably. Her present state of mind towards Mr. Spottiswoode was unchangeable affection, such as it had ever felt towards him; and such as she felt assured must ever exist there, though her own lips had made a breach between them, by trifling with his long-expressed affection.
Miss Wycherly felt aware that she had drawn down upon herself the offended feelings of an injured man, who had borne all her caprice with patient endurance; she felt, too, that there was a point when that endurance must and would burst from its fetters, and assert its freedom. Mr. Spottiswoode's spirit might bear with a certain degree of flippancy; but he would not endure to become a woman's toy, to become a thing, which the woman he loved could dare to throw from her in caprice, and recall at will. Such, Miss Wycherly knew, was not the nature of his love, whom her heart pined to recover. But her pride—the pride of a woman unwilling to bend her spirit in acknowledgment of error—persisted in allowing Henry Tyndal to attend her in public; and its false reasoning forbade her to appear wounded by the consequences of her fault. Miss Wycherly could only trust to circumstances for assistance in developing the real intentions of her offended lover; and, in making an appointment with Lady Spottiswoode, she trusted events might concur to restore her again into her son's favour, and dispel the cloud which separated them.
In this frame of mind, and with this hope, to spread flowers on her path, Miss Wycherly drove her four beautiful bays into Shrewsbury, and drew up before Lady Spottiswoode's house. Mr. Spottiswoode, accompanied by the Tyndals, appeared at the hall-door to receive her; and Mr. Spottiswoode politely, but with reserve of voice and manner, expressed Lady Spottiswoode's hope that she would take refreshment before they proceeded to Hatton. This was Miss Wycherly's first meeting with her lover, since the misunderstanding which had taken place at Lady Spottiswoode's ball; and her heart felt and sunk under the changed expression of his voice and manner. She gave her reins to the groom, and prepared to obey Lady Spottiswoode's request. Mr. Henry Tyndal went forward with his brother to offer their assistance, while Mr. Spottiswoode remained on the steps, as a person who conceived that all required attention on his part, was effected in the delivery of his mother's message. Miss Wycherly declined Mr. Henry Tyndal's offered hand, and reseated herself with feelings of mingled mortification and indignation. Nothing now could persuade her to descend from the barouche-box.
"Have the goodness, Mr. Tyndal, to make my excuses to Lady Spottiswoode. I rarely quit my throne, when once exalted, and she will allow of my apology. Insist upon herself and Miss Spottiswoode taking their own time. I am not in any hurry."
It appeared as though Mr. Spottiswoode had cheerfully and for ever surrendered her to Mr. Tyndal's attentions, for he spoke in an undertone to the young men, and returned into the house.
"Very kind fellow," cried Henry Tyndal; "he has gone himself with your message, so I can stay and admire your set out, and yourself. Upon my soul, your habit sits beautifully, doesn't it, John?"
"I begged you to deliver my message," replied Miss Wycherly, offended and distressed at her lover's action. "I desired you, Mr. Tyndal, to deliver my message, not Mr. Spottiswoode."
Henry Tyndal misunderstood, and was flattered by Miss Wycherly's reproof. It was clear enough to his comprehension she was angry with Spottiswoode for presuming to take a message which had been delegated to himself as her regular and encouraged attendant.
"Oh, well! never mind for once, Miss Wycherly; I thought Spottiswoode was very anxious to go, or he should not have taken my place, I promise you. No, no, poor fellow! he was off before I knew what he was about. Upon my soul, your horses are magnificent."
Miss Wycherly did not hear Mr. Tyndal's observation; her attention was given exclusively and painfully to the hall-door, which remained open.
Lady Spottiswoode and her daughter appeared.
"My dear Miss Wycherly, you are patience itself," exclaimed both ladies.
"I never descend from my altitude," replied Miss Wycherly; "but you look forsaken without a beau of some sort; if your son would like to take a seat,