The Manoeuvring Mother (Vol. 1-3). Lady Charlotte Campbell Bury
be a foil to her sisters, at any rate."
Lady Wetheral was right: an odd, "retired bachelor" did admire Isabel precisely for her healthy, good-humoured looks; and, in process of time, he advanced, slowly and cautiously, to the attack; but his manner concealed the matter long to all eyes but those of her father. Lady Wetheral was blind to the very dénouement.
"I can't imagine why that tiresome old Boscawen comes here every other morning, Sir John, sitting for hours and saying nothing: pray don't ask him to stay dinner again—he makes me ill."
"He is a great friend of mine, Gertrude: I like Boscawen."
"I know you like unaccountable people, love; but he worries me to death, and he will sit at dinner between Anna Maria and Isabel. I don't consider Isabel, but he keeps Tom Pynsent away from Anna Maria, and never enters into any sort of conversation."
"He thinks more than he says, my dear."
"I hate people who think: thinking makes every thing worse: luckily, I have quite given up thinking about Isabel, or her loud laugh would kill me."
"Boscawen does not object to Isabel's joyous laugh, Gertrude; he hopes to hear it in perpetuity."
"I wish he would take her to himself, then," replied his lady, gently yawning, and taking up a novel.
"Boscawen has proposed for Isabel," said Sir John, seriously.
"How can you talk such nonsense, Sir John! if the old man proposes to any body, it will certainly be to Anna Maria. I saw he admired her exceedingly—so does every body: she is very captivating."
"Boscawen has proposed for Isabel, however," he returned; "and though he is too advanced in years for a young girl's speculation, yet, if she could fancy him, I think she might be happy. I wish you to speak to your daughter upon the subject, Gertrude. If she has the slightest disinclination to Boscawen, do not mention him a second time: I will not allow her to be talked into matrimony."
"Then, talk to her yourself, Sir John. I am quite overpowered by the surprise. I was so certain Boscawen admired Anna Maria; but since he has the bad taste to prefer Isabel, she ought not to demur an instant. Boscawen is very rich, and I dare say he will act very handsomely as to settlements. When old men marry young wives, they ought to pay for the distinction. Isabel will be very foolish if she declines him."
Anna Maria at this moment appeared at the door, and Lady Wetheral's ideas excursed at the sight of her beautiful daughter, still so admired, yet unsought.
"Well, my dear, I am glad you are come at this moment; here is Mr. Boscawen proposing for Isabel, and no one asks for you: I can't understand it. Perhaps, my love, if you chatted a little more—but you must 'take' in time. Old Boscawen is no great things, only he is so rich; there is no saying when Isabel may be a gay widow."
"Does my sister accept Mr. Boscawen?" asked Anna Maria, in dulcet tones, without replying to her mother's hints.
"She will do so, if she has common sense; but we have sent for her. Your father is to talk to her."
Isabel obeyed the summons, which prayed for her appearance in Lady Wetheral's boudoir. She entered laughing.
"I am sure I know the reason of your summons, papa. Mr. Boscawen has written to you."
"And you will not be so mad as to refuse such an excellent establishment," cried her mother, earnestly.
"Stay, Gertrude; I will not allow Isabel to be influenced."
"He can make any settlement you please, Isabel," continued her mother.
"Gertrude——"
"He is old and ugly, Isabel"—Lady Wetheral rose unconsciously from the sofa in her energy, perfectly deaf to her husband's call to order—"he is old and ugly; but no girl in her senses would refuse such an establishment. You cannot stake a handsome face against a fortune, which will purchase all a woman prizes most. You will be respectable and enviable, for you will command every thing that is covetable in this world!"
Sir John was distressed and indignant at the sentiment conveyed in his lady's discourse; but he knew it was vain to contend with a mind anchored upon the world. He turned to Isabel.
"I wish to know, my love, if Mr. Boscawen's offer is disagreeable to you. If you reject his suit, I will take care he shall not offend again."
Lady Wetheral fixed her eyes with intense anxiety upon Isabel, who promptly replied the offer had been made with her knowledge and concurrence.
"My dear Isabel, I thought you would not overlook such advantages," cried her ladyship, embracing her daughter with unfeigned delight.
"Isabel," said her father, "you wish to marry Mr. Boscawen?"
"Indeed, papa, I do."
"You wish to quit your home, my love, and live altogether with Mr. Boscawen?"
"Yes, indeed, I do, papa."
"Are you aware, Isabel, that in marrying Mr. Boscawen you must become steady and obedient, and submit to his wishes and views?"
"Perfectly, papa."
"Are you aware, my love, that when you have become a wife, you must quit home for ever, and remain with Mr. Boscawen at Brierly, to nurse him in sickness, and console him in sorrow?"
"Oh, yes, papa, I know all that perfectly; and I shall like very much to nurse Mr. Boscawen, he is so good-tempered."
"Yet, listen to me, Isabel, I have much to say," and her father's countenance and manner became impressively serious. "You are too young to understand the solemn vows you must make at the altar. I know Boscawen is a good man, or I should not have listened to his offer when he proposed for a girl young enough to be his daughter. You must have given him great encouragement, Isabel."
"Oh yes, papa, I did. I told him I would be sure to be his wife, if you had no objection, and I hope you do not mean to prevent it."
Lady Wetheral became indignant at her husband's serious view of matrimony, and she had recourse to her vinaigrette, as usual, upon exciting subjects.
"I cannot imagine, Sir John, why you should endeavour to make doubts for Isabel, when such an offer may never occur again—certainly not to Isabel, who has so little appearance. It quite provokes me to hear you raising difficulties about a nonsensical affair of marriage. Isabel will marry like other girls, and get on like other people."
"I do not wish my daughter to marry like other girls, Gertrude. I wish Isabel to be happy and respected."
"And who will deny her being very happy, Sir John, when she has every luxury her mind can invent; and who denies a woman's respectability when she is rich and well connected? Nonsense, my dear."
"We never agree in sentiment, Gertrude," said her husband, gravely.
"How can I see things, love, in the strange light you represent them? My mother never read me such lectures as you preach to Isabel, and I was scarcely her age when I married. I was congratulated on my good fortune, and you know we both drove immediately to Hamlet's. Pray let Isabel enjoy herself."
"Oh pray, papa, let me have Mr. Boscawen," cried Isabel, clasping her hands as the tears burst from her dark, blue eyes. "Do not say I am not to have Mr. Boscawen! and he has ordered me a tilbury cloak upon the certainty of my accepting him; it is to have a leopard's claw as a fastening round my throat! Oh papa, papa!"
"I have not uttered a word about refusing Mr. Boscawen, my love."
"Oh, thank you, papa, thank you!" and Isabel flew to embrace her father. "My own good papa, not to make me miserable!"
"You would be unhappy, then, if I declined Mr. Boscawen, Isabel?"
"Oh, papa, wretched!—the cloak too of no use, and I had so set my heart upon the leopard's claw!"
"A small 'forget-me-not' would have been in better taste, Isabel," observed her mother.
"No, I particularly