Chapter 10

The first carriages that rolled over the lawn to Bolton parsonage, on the
succeeding day, were those of the baronet and his sister; the latter in
advance.

"There, Francis," cried Emily, who was impatiently waiting for him to
remove some slight obstruction to her alighting, "thank you, thank you;
that will do."

In the next moment she was in the extended arms of Clara. After pressing
each other to their bosoms for a few moments in silence, Emily looked up,
with a tear glistening in her eye, and first noticed the form of Denbigh,
who was modestly withdrawing, as if unwilling to intrude on such pure and
domestic feelings as the sisters were betraying, unconscious of the
presence of a witness. Mrs. Wilson and Jane, followed by Miss Chatterton,
now entered, and cordial salutes and greetings flowed upon Clara from her
various friends.

The baronet's coach reached the door; it contained himself and wife, Mr.
Benfield, and Lady Chatterton. Clara stood on the portico of the building,
ready to receive them; her face all smiles, and tears, and blushes, and
her arm locked in that of Emily.

"I wish you joy of your new abode, Mrs. Francis." Lady Moseley forgot her
form, and bursting into tears, she pressed her daughter with ardor to her
bosom.

"Clara, my love!" said the baronet, hastily wiping his eyes, and
succeeding his wife in the embrace of their child. He kissed her, and,
pressing Francis by the hand, walked into the house in silence.

"Well, well," cried the dowager, as she saluted her cousin, "all looks
comfortable and genteel here, upon my word, Mrs. Ives: grapery--
hot-houses--everything in good style too; and Sir Edward tells me the
living is worth a good five hundred a year."

"So, girl, I suppose you expect a kiss," said Mr. Benfield who ascended
the steps slowly, and with difficulty. "Kissing has gone much out of
fashion lately. I remember, on the marriage of my friend, Lord Gosford, in
the year fifty-eight, that all the maids and attendants were properly
saluted in order. The lady Juliana was quite young then; not more than
fifteen: it was there I got my first salute from her--but--so--kiss me."
After which he continued, as they went into the house, "Marrying in that
day was a serious business. You might visit a lady a dozen times before
you could get a sight of her naked hand. Who's that?" stopping short, and
looking earnestly at Denbigh, who now approached them.

"Mr. Denbigh, sir," said Clara, "my uncle, Mr. Benfield."

"Did you ever know, sir, a gentleman of your name, who sat in the
parliament of this realm in the year sixty?" Mr. Benfield abruptly