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Maria’s ear had drunk in the whole [62] conversation, which took place near her and her mother, though both were concealed from observation. Lady Wetheral listened, with joy of the deepest and most powerful nature, to the confession of Tom Pynsent’s affection for Julia, and the restraints of society scarcely concealed the exhibition of its effects. Anna Maria preserved her calm demeanour, and bore with intrepidity the acknowledgment of his love for another. A common observer would have pitied the cold indifferent character of Miss Wetheral’s countenance; none knew the pangs which were silently devouring her existence. She bore the outpourings of her mother’s self-congratulation with unflinching steadiness.
“My dear Anna Maria, I have now married two daughters admirably, for Julia will assuredly marry Tom Pynsent very shortly. Did you not hear him say he should ask her before he hunted? Most likely this very night. What will your father say now? I wish he had been here! but I am sure it is time to return home. Where is my dear Julia! oh, Lord Ennismore is dancing with [63] her, I see; Lord Ennismore will do for Clara, whom I shall bring out immediately. Julia will be Mrs. Pynsent, of Hatton, and Clara shall be Lady Ennismore. I have established my daughters exactly as I could wish. Poor Isabel did very well for old Boscawen, because she was rather vulgar. Well, my love, just tell Julia we must order the carriage.”
Anna Maria obeyed her mother’s request, and rose to approach Julia, who was at that moment seated between Tom Pynsent and Lord Ennismore. Julia’s quick eye saw her advancing, and she left the gentlemen, to bound forward to meet her sister.
“Julia, the carriage is ordered; are you cool enough to prepare for your return home?”
The words were calmly and distinctly uttered, but Julia was struck by the hollow tones and dull eye of Anna Maria. She took her hand affectionately.
“My dear sister, you are ill?”
“No,” replied Anna Maria, calmly.
“Yes, you look ill. I know your countenance well, and it looks very disturbed; tell me what is the matter?”
[64]
“Nothing.” Anna Maria trembled as she stood. Julia became alarmed.
“Take no notice,” continued Anna Maria, “but let us return home. Are you ready?”
“Yes, now this moment; let us go.”
Lord Ennismore and Tom Pynsent advanced, and each offered an arm to Julia, who quietly gave her hand to his lordship. Tom Pynsent followed, but offered no assistance to her eldest sister, who clung to Julia’s disengaged arm. They joined Lady Wetheral.
“My dear Julia, you are not heated, I hope? I am sorry to call you away from the dance; but I believe it is late, and Anna Maria is fatigued. Sir John sits up for us.”
A little change took place among the party, and a little bustle ensued, preparatory to their departure. Julia withdrew her arm from Lord Ennismore for an instant, to adjust her shawl, and Lady Wetheral took immediate advantage of the movement. She glided to Lord Ennismore, and took possession of his deserted arm.
“Allow me, my dear lord. You must take care of us, and give us safely back to Sir [65] John, you know, according to promise. Anna Maria, I bespeak Lord Ennismore’s other arm for you; thank you, my lord, we are very comfortably arranged. Julia, my love, Fate gives you to Mr. Pynsent pour le moment. Now shall we bow to Lady Spottiswoode?”
The little ruse succeeded. Tom Pynsent walked to the carriage with Julia, and he opened the subject so near and so interesting to his heart, boldly and without preamble.
“Miss Julia, I wish to know if you like Lord Ennismore?”
Julia was taken by surprise, but she knew the characteristic bluntness of her companion’s manners and speech, and Julia was rarely disconcerted: she possessed astonishing coolness of manners for a girl so young and so recently introduced: her reply was prompt, and quietly delivered.
“I know no right you possess to ask me such a question, Mr. Pynsent.”
“I have a right, Miss Julia. If I like a girl, I am at liberty to ask if she is pre-engaged.”
[66]
Julia laughed, and her laugh led Tom Pynsent to form a wrong conjecture upon the state of her feelings towards himself. He pressed her hand with considerable force, which Julia resented by withdrawing her arm.
“Pray don’t be angry, my dear Miss Julia, at a good fox-hunting squeeze: I am not used to press ladies’ hands, but the firmer I shake a friend’s hand, the stronger is my pleasure at receiving him, and, if my grasp offends you, set it down to my affection.”
Julia made no reply, but she retreated to her party; Lady Wetheral was impatient at her return, but Julia’s indignation heeded not the hopes and fears which struggled in her mother’s bosom; she was offended at Tom Pynsent’s misconstruction of her laugh, and she stationed herself by the side of her sister. Tom Pynsent stood bewildered. The colour rose in Lady Wetheral’s cheeks with alarm.