Sir Foster had nothing to say in extenuation, if he really understood the purport of the address; but he looked perfectly innocent of all charges, or of having attached any meaning to the sounds which reached his ear. Sir John remembered Sir Foster's besetting sin, and accosted him again with decision, as Lady Wetheral had done in a similar situation, though upon a different subject. "Sir Foster, I forbid your visits to my daughter Clara." Sir Foster raised his eyebrows, but he understood the sentence: it was clear and concise. "Eh?--yes, certainly, if Lady Wetheral does not mind." "I am afraid, sir, Lady Wetheral has given you encouragement in this affair." "Umph!--ah!--yes; something of that sort." "I must insist upon ending the engagement, Sir Foster." "Eh!--what? Yes, if you like." There was a silence for some moments; it was broken by Sir Foster, in apparently complete forgetfulness of the preceding subject. "Boscawen keep his blood mare?" Sir John smiled, as he replied in the affirmative. Sir Foster began to wink his eye violently. "Give him two hundred for her." Sir John mentioned his intended visit to Brierly, and offered to be the bearer of his message or intentions. "Go with you." "Ripley does not lie far out of our way; shall I call for you, Sir Foster? We shall be happy to offer you a seat in or outside the carriage, which you please." Sir Foster smiled and hummed, which, according to Lucy Kerrison's reading, implied consent; they were therefore to have the pleasure of his company on their journey. Sir John would not feel annoyed by the accession of a taciturn companion; Sir Foster would, at least, be out of Clara's neighbourhood, and, what was more satisfactory, he would be beyond the reach of his lady's machinations. After this arrangement, Sir Foster remained two hours, silently smiling in his chair, without changing his position, or appearing to feel the absence of his so lately affianced bride. Once initiated in another suite of apartments, it was more than likely he would, in future, seek the study as naturally as he had made his _sederunt_ in the boudoir; but the proposed journey must interfere with his plans, and force them into other channels. Brierly and the blood-mare had present possession of his memory, and, unless they sank into the oblivious depths of his lethargic mind, Sir Foster was destined to become a millstone round the energies of Mr. Boscawen, and Clara must relinquish all hope of securing her fleeting lover.