Produced by Chris Whitehead and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) THE MANŒUVRING MOTHER. BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE HISTORY OF A FLIRT." IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1842. LONDON: F. SHOBERL, JUN., 51, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET, PRINTER TO H. R. H. PRINCE ALBERT. THE MANŒUVRING MOTHER. CHAPTER I. Sir John and Lady Wetheral were blessed with four fine little girls, who promised to be all the fond heart of a parent could wish; for, as her ladyship observed with pride, "their forms were perfect, and their features were faultless." There was no exuberance of shape to rectify, there was no limb distorted, and, above all, there were no thick ankles, or dumpy-looking hands to shock a refined taste. The four girls were sprightly, lovely little beings, who would in due time create an immense sensation, and ultimately form connexions with noblemen, or with "county kings," which was even more desirable. Sir Watkin Williams Wynn was considered "Prince of Wales," and there were one or two gentlemen who might claim the title of King of Shropshire, if immense property conferred that title. The Miss Wetherals were born distinguished looking, and their career would be triumphant. Lady Wetheral loved also an even number; _four_ daughters were not too alarming: five or three would have been an indefinite half-vulgar fraction. Her ladyship hated any thing vulgar. But events are not in our own hands; and the systems we prepare and digest with patient calculation are overturned in one luckless moment by unforeseen circumstances. Lady Wetheral had scarcely decided in her own mind, that five daughters were an indefinite vulgarity, when another helpless innocent appeared to crush her hopes, and disturb her tranquillity. This was, indeed, a blow. All fear of increasing her family had passed from Lady Wetheral's mind so completely, that it was an overpowering disappointment. Five years had stolen away since the birth of Clara, and now to recommence the troubles and miseries of nursing, with an uncertain vista before her! Suppose she had twelve? suppose she had fifteen? suppose she had five-and-twenty? where might all this end? How very provoking and vexatious!