Chapter 8 - Page 2

John, coolly taking up his hat
to leave the room.

"Which way, my son?" said the baronet, who met him at the door.

"To the deanery, sir, to try to get Captain Jarvis to act as bridesmaid--I
beg his pardon, groomsman, to-morrow--Chatterton has been thrown from a
horse and can't come."

"John!"

"Jenny!"

"I am sure," said Jane, indignation glowing in her pretty face, "that if
Captain Jarvis is to be an attendant, Clara must excuse my acting. I do
not choose to be associated with Captain Jarvis."

"John," said his mother, with dignity, "your trifling is unseasonable;
certainly Colonel Egerton is a more fitting person on every account, and I
desire, under present circumstances, that you ask the colonel."

"Your ladyship's wishes are orders to me," said John, gaily kissing his
hand as he left the room.

The colonel was but too happy in having it in his power to be of service
in any manner to a gentleman he respected as much as Mr. Francis Ives. He
accepted the duty, and was the only person present at the ceremony who did
not stand within the bonds of consanguinity to the parties. He was invited
by the baronet to dine at the hall, as a matter of course, and
notwithstanding the repeated injunctions of Mrs. Jarvis and her daughters,
to return immediately with an account of the dress of the bride, and with
other important items of a similar nature, the invitation was accepted. On
reaching the hall, Emily retired immediately to her own room, and at her
reappearance when the dinner bell rang, the paleness of her cheeks and the
redness of her eyes afforded sufficient proof that the translation of a
companion from her own to another family was an event, however happy in
itself, not unmingled with grief. The day, however, passed off tolerably
well for people who are expected to be premeditatedly happy, and when, in
their hearts, they are really more disposed to weep than to laugh. Jane
and the colonel had most of the conversation to themselves during dinner:
even the joyous and thoughtless John wearing his gaiety in a less graceful
manner than usual. He was actually detected by his aunt in looking with
moistened eyes at the vacant chair a servant had, from habit, placed at
the table, in the spot where Clara had been accustomed to sit.

"This beef is not done, Saunders," said the baronet to his butler, "or my
appetite is not as good as usual to-day. Colonel Egerton, will you allow
me the pleasure of a glass of sherry?"

The wine was drunk, and the game succeeded the beef; but still Sir Edward
could not eat.

"How glad Clara will be to see us all the day after