Dr. Campbell, alas! was right. Henry looked eagerly towards the door
every time it opened, when they were at dinner: but he was continually
disappointed. Flora, whose gaiety usually enlivened the evenings, and
agreeably relieved her father and brother after their morning studies,
was now silent.

Whilst Lady Catherine's volubility overpowered even the philosophy of Dr.
Campbell, she wondered--she never ceased wondering--that Mr. Forester did
not appear, and that the doctor and Mrs. Campbell, and Henry and Flora,
were not more alarmed. She proposed sending twenty different messengers
after him. She was now convinced, that he had not fallen from Salisbury
Craigs, because Dr. Campbell assured her ladyship, that he had a letter
from him in his pocket, and that he was safe; but she thought that there
was imminent danger of his enlisting in a frolic, or, perhaps, marrying
some cobbler's daughter in a pet. She turned to Archibald Mackenzie, and
exclaimed, "He was at a cobbler's; it could not be merely to mend his
shoes. What sort of a lassy is the cobbler's daughter? or has the cobbler
a daughter?"

"She is hump-backed, luckily," said Dr. Campbell, coolly.

"That does not signify," said Lady Catherine; "I'm convinced she is at
the bottom of the whole mystery; for I once heard Mr. Forester say--and
I'm sure you must recollect it, Flora, my dear, for he looked at you at
the time--I once heard him say, that personal beauty was no merit, and
that ugly people ought to be liked--or some such thing--out of humanity.
Now, out of humanity, with his odd notions, it's ten to one, Dr.
Campbell, he marries this cobbler's hump-backed daughter. I'm sure, if I
were his guardian, I could not rest an instant with such a thought in my
head."