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. II. 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 XII. Sir Foster Kerrison's entrance into the great drawing-room at Wetheral was an epoch in its annals. It was the precursor of stirring matter. Lady Wetheral received him with great amenity of manner; and any other gentleman might have perceived a look of anxious care in her eyes. Sir Foster, however, saw nothing; he did not even observe that her ladyship was alone. Habit directed him to a seat in the direction of the lounging-chair, which stood in the boudoir, and when his hat was placed upon a table, there was nothing to interfere with his _dolce far niente_. Sir Foster sat down, tapping his boot and winking his eye, in happy ignorance of coming events. Lady Wetheral allowed some little time to elapse in silence, ere she commenced proceedings; but, when Sir Foster had taken root, and looked steadily deposited for three hours at least, the case was gently opened. Lady Wetheral drew near, and seated herself opposite her neighbour. "Sir Foster Kerrison, I beg your attention for a few moments." Sir Foster made no reply, but a rather quickened tapping of the boot assured her she was heard. Miss Kerrison had innocently enough supplied the key to her father's meaning, and movements. "Perhaps, my dear Sir Foster, you are somewhat surprised at the absence of Lucy and Clara." Sir Foster looked round the room, and smiled. "Clara is not allowed to return again to your society, my dear Sir Foster, for very essential and painful reasons." Lady Wetheral paused, but she might have continued _ad libitum_ for hours: Sir Foster neither perceived the absence of his daughter and Clara, nor understood the drift of her remarks. Lady Wetheral's quickness detected at once the obtuseness of her companion; she perceived the uselessness of hints and sighs, and broken sentences, in the present instance. Tom Pynsent yielded at once to their influence, but Sir Foster required a _coup de main_ to rouse his feelings and attention. Another line of conduct was therefore chosen. "Sir Foster Kerrison, you have behaved very ill to my daughter!" "God bless me!" cried Sir Foster, almost starting. "Eh! what?" "If your intentions are not honourable, Sir Foster Kerrison, I, as a mother, demand a change of conduct on your part." "Lucy ill, or any thing?" demanded Sir Foster, in surprise. "_Miss Kerrison_ is well," replied Lady Wetheral, with emphasis. "Oh, umph!" Sir Foster sank again comfortably into the arm-chair.