Tom Pynsent's mind was composed of kindly materials, but his perceptions of right were always clear, and his conduct did credit to those perceptions, by resisting, formidably and pertinaciously, every attempt to attract him from the path chalked out by his straightforward, well-judging principles. Lady Wetheral's eloquent and parental complainings roused his best feelings, but Tom Pynsent was at this moment, as he ever had been, perfectly blind to all hints and concealed purposes. He read her ladyship's meaning, simply as a parent mourning her separation from a loved and gentle daughter, and his excellent heart prompted every means of consolation. "God bless my soul, Lady Wetheral, I feel quite a brute in taking Anna Maria out of the neighbourhood, while you suffer so much--I am sure I am willing to do any thing to lessen your regret! Anna Maria, my dear little duck, what shall we do for Lady Wetheral?" "To be separated from two daughters at once," remarked Lady Wetheral, despairingly--"to lose two children at once is a serious misery. Julia _must_ live in Staffordshire--she must, and, of course, ought, to settle upon her husband's property: but my dearest Anna Maria need not surely desert us!" "I'll tell you what I'll decide upon at once," cried Tom Pynsent. Her ladyship listened with intense eagerness. "I'll decide at once, and accept my father's offer to live----" Lady Wetheral seized Tom Pynsent's large red hand. "You have given peace to my heart, Tom, to a mother's deep disquietude--I understand you--my Anna Maria will live near me. You will be brilliant, as I anticipated, my dear girl!" "I'll do what I never thought I could do," continued Tom Pynsent; "but I am sure I'll not separate you from your daughter, if you love her as well as I do. Come, then, I'll accept my father's offer of a large house in Dog Pole; and though I never lived in a town, I'll do it to quiet your heart, Lady Wetheral." Her ladyship sunk into a chair--she could only articulate, faintly, "Oh--no, no!" "Yes, but I will, though, Lady Wetheral. I'll remove the kennel to Coleham, and then I can hunt; I'll amuse myself on Sundays with shewing my wife the hounds, and I must patronise the poor devils of players in an evening, to amuse my little woman here. I will do it, upon my soul: I'm not joking, Lady Wetheral." "No, it cannot be--I see it is wrong--no, you shall not live in Shrewsbury to please _me_," said her ladyship, writhing in horror; "my daughter would become ill in a close atmosphere. You would become disgusted too. I see very clearly my mistake--no, that must not be. A little effort will shake off maternal regrets." Lady Wetheral trembled with the remembrance even of Tom Pynsent's offer. Her daughter living in Dog Pole, and going to the play like a mechanic's wife!--oh, let her die first! She was obliged to have recourse to her salts. Anna Maria was surprised at the strong emotion which seized upon her mother. She offered consolation in her own way.