Lord Farnborough's mission was speedily developed to Lady Wetheral, as they paced the terrace together. His lordship at once opened the subject, which lay so closely upon his mind's peace, and at once laid his dukedom at Christobelle's feet.

"Upon my honour, Lady Wetheral, my respect for your daughter is excessive, and I wish to make known my sentiments at such an early period, because I see I have rivals. Ponsonby is over head and ears in love, and there's no knowing how many more will become so; for her beauty is really something extraordinary. Miss Wetheral is the loveliest creature I have ever seen."

"My daughter is flattered by such remarks, my dear lord, and her mother feels proud of such an encomium. She is a treasure to me, in every sense of the word, as she will prove to the man who wins her."

"I can offer much more than Ponsonby," continued Lord Farnborough; "and I think, at this very early stage of our acquaintance, an earl's coronet in possession, and a duke's strawberry-leaves in prospect, may perhaps entitle me to her notice beyond the claims of humbler men."

"Lord Farnborough may claim a lady's preference upon still higher grounds than mere rank or fortune," said her ladyship, with smiling approbation, and gently pressing his lordship's arm. Lord Farnborough was gratified by the compliment.

"It is very soothing, Lady Wetheral, to my feelings, to be assured that my suit is not displeasing to her parents. May I hope Miss Wetheral's affections are disengaged?"

"I can answer for my daughter's free heart, my lord. I am sure—indeed, I know her affections are untouched."

"You think Ponsonby has not got before me into her good opinion?"

"I have authority to say, Captain Ponsonby has not yet succeeded, my dear lord."

"Ponsonby has been very successful with the female heart, and I know he was attentive yesterday—but he has nothing to offer. I think Sir John Spottiswoode fluttered round Fanny Ponsonby—nothing there, you think, Lady Wetheral?"

"My daughter's affections are not so lightly won, my lord; and my interest is not with Sir John Spottiswoode."

"It would be a great feather in my cap, to win Miss Wetheral from all competitors. She would be a star in town, and cause a great sensation. She shall be the best-dressed woman in St. James's, if she appears there as Lady Farnborough. She would have the most splendid jewels in the drawing-room."

"My dear child's tastes are simple and unexpensive, Lord Farnborough. She does not court notoriety. Her heart is happiest in her own home."

"That is a lady's throne," observed his lordship, "and man is happy, who marries a creature devoted to his comforts."

"Is the duke aware of your present application, my lord?"

"I believe he surmises what I am about, Lady Wetheral, for your daughter's charms almost led to a quarrel this morning with Ponsonby. It decided me at once to announce my wishes here, or he would be laying siege to Miss Wetheral. I saw that pretty clearly. However, if you stand my friend, Lady Wetheral, I am safe."

"My lord, I think my wishes will point my daughter's affections; I believe I possess her entire confidence, and the control of her judgment; and the very proper way in which you announce your wish of an alliance with our family, prompts me to exert my influence in your favour. I admire your high-spirited address, my lord, in consulting me before you applied to the lady."

"I wish to do every thing in order," replied his lordship, "and I know Ponsonby has serious intentions, which gave me some alarm. When may I pay my respects to Miss Wetheral? Will she allow me an interview soon, Lady Wetheral? You may conceive my impatience to be received as one of your family."

"I will summon my daughter, my lord, and leave you together: I am sure of my child's ingenuous heart; and she will scorn to allow any man to remain in suspense, when his full intentions and hopes are disclosed."

Lady Wetheral's appearance at the sitting-room window unfolded her thoughts and expectations to Christobelle's mind in one glance. The subdued look of triumph, the forced calmness of manner, contrasted with the glowing expression of every feature, left her daughter not an instant in ignorance of what had taken place. She felt that her hour of trial was already arrived—that she must collect her thoughts, and meet, with patient firmness, all the crosses in her path—that she must redeem her promise of patience to her lover. Christobelle had little leisure for mental reflection, for Lady Wetheral entered the room, and compelled attention.

"My dear love, Lord Farnborough requests the honour of your attention for a few moments: I have promised that you will join his lordship on the terrace. Your instant acquiescence will oblige me, Bell." Sir John Spottiswoode quitted the room. She continued—"It is a relief to lose sight of one's friends for a few minutes; I wish Spottiswoode had found amusement elsewhere. Hasten, my dear girl, and meet me after your little consultation in my room. I won't say a word till you rejoin me; but, my dear child, this is the very happiest hour in my existence—a happier hour than when my Julia told me she had won Ennismore. My wish, Bell, has been gloriously fulfilled; every thing has crowned that wish, without an effort. I am a proud and happy mother!"

"Oh, mamma," cried Christobelle, kneeling before her, "do not misunderstand me, and do not hope against hope. I cannot marry Lord Farnborough!"

"Do not rouse me into anger, Bell, as you hope for peace in this world; and do not let me find you a mean-minded creature, content to live in insignificance. Go instantly, and meet Lord Farnborough."

"I cannot go, mamma; I have no affections to bestow upon Lord Farnborough—do not let me meet him! Tell him, I deplore his disappointment, if it proves such—but I cannot see him!"

Lady Wetheral's face turned pale as marble, as she caught Christobelle's hand, and dragged her forward.

"Tell me only that you are thinking of Captain Ponsonby, to break my heart at once, Bell!"

"Oh, no, not Ponsonby—I care not for Captain Ponsonby, mamma: but do not look so pale and angry—you terrify me!"

"So you have led me into error—deceived my hopes—and destroyed me, while you sought the love of Spottiswoode! Is that truly so? Is it Spottiswoode you love?"

Christobelle shrank from her grasp in terror. Lady Wetheral's face and manner became fearfully changed; she caught the back of a chair to support herself.

"Bell, I have answered for your dutiful submission to my wishes. I have promised for you—I have told Lord Farnborough you are free. Go to him, and say that I spoke in truth. A dukedom, Bell!—a dukedom!—my last, my only child, a dukedom is offered you!"

Christobelle sat in terrified silence: she could not endure to see her mother suffer, but she had no consolation to offer. Lady Wetheral approached her, and took her cold hands in hers.

"Bell, a child never yet prospered that gave pain to her parent, and now you can raise me into happiness by your obedience. To see my daughter a duchess—a duchess, moving in stately magnificence, is the dearest wish of my heart. It has been my hope, ever since your first introduction to Lord Farnborough—my dearest project by day and by night, my earthly contemplation for many days! Go to him, Bell, for I have answered for you, and you will go; think better of it, think of your future regrets, when repentance will come too late! Go to Lord Farnborough, I command you, Bell."

A mother's commands had never been disputed by Christobelle, and it was, perhaps, better to meet his lordship. By an open declaration of engaged affection, which would end all further hopes on his side, Christobelle's disquietudes would cease; and her mother would reconcile herself to a step which must be unavoidable, by every honourable and upright principle of justice. Christobelle had no doubts to solve, no inquiries to make with her own heart. Every feeling of her soul was given to Sir John Spottiswoode, and Lord Farnborough had not deserved to endure suspense. She obeyed her mother's command, therefore, to meet his lordship upon the terrace. Her steps were slow, and her mind was torn with contending feelings, but she went forward.

"Bell," said Lady Wetheral, as she passed through the open window, "do not be rash."

Lord Farnborough approached with respectful pleasure. Christobelle returned his greeting with a silent bow, but she could not command words, and she stood in silence before him. His lordship hesitated.

"Miss Wetheral is aware, I presume, of my hopes?"

"My mother has informed me, my lord, of your wishes—of the honour done me, but...."

"Will you do me the honour to walk up the terrace, Miss Wetheral, while I explain my feelings and motives." His lordship offered his arm; Christobelle declined it silently. "I trust you will not misinterpret my action, Miss Wetheral. I am not a confident man, or one who presumes upon a parent's interest in my behalf—it was done in all respect, Miss Wetheral."

"I am sure it was so, my lord—my only motive for declining your assistance, is the fear of giving a hope, where none is intended."

His lordship appeared startled and annoyed.

"When I have explained my wishes, Miss Wetheral, to you, and when I state my hope that you will allow me to visit you at present, simply as a friend, till you can give me a dearer title, I trust you will listen calmly to what I am further anxious to say."

"Lord Farnborough," replied Christobelle, with trepidation of voice and manner, "I will not deceive you for one moment. Pray do not think of me, for it is useless. I—I—cannot love you, or even give you hope that I ever shall love you. Pray do not think of me."

Lord Farnborough bowed with great stiffness. "I beg your pardon, Miss Wetheral, for this annoyance, but, allow me to say, I was assured you were disengaged."

"My lord, I was——, I am——." The words died upon Christobelle's tongue; she could not utter them.

"Ponsonby has made an impression upon your heart, Miss Wetheral! I thought—I was sure of it yesterday! That fellow is born to be my misery."

Christobelle laid her hand upon his lordship's arm, and endeavoured to speak distinctly, but she could only articulate, "No, no, no!"

"Do not fear me, Miss Wetheral," replied his lordship, with offensive hauteur, "I am not intending to wreak vengeance upon a man you approve, but this is the second time he has traversed me!"

"Captain Ponsonby is nothing to me, my lord; Captain Ponsonby can never be any thing to me!" Christobelle exclaimed, "but pray excuse me if I drop the subject for ever. I am honoured—I am flattered—but it never can be, Lord Farnborough."

His lordship gazed eagerly in her face. "Repeat those words again, Miss Wetheral! Assure me again that Ponsonby is, and will be, nothing to you!"

"I do repeat it, my lord."

"Then, Miss Wetheral, I am content. I will believe your assertion, and it gives me hope. Do not be in haste to reply. Allow me your attention for a few moments."

"I cannot listen, my lord. I have spoken the truth, and I beg to be allowed to say this subject must end for ever. I have no affections to bestow upon yourself, or upon Captain Ponsonby."

"I beseech you to listen one moment—one moment, Miss Wetheral! I do not ask for your affections yet. I could not presume to hope even for a preference, upon our short acquaintance. I only pray for leave to visit you—to try and interest your heart, by my attentions and my love. Lady Wetheral gives me hope, Christobelle!"

"No one can give hope for another, my lord."

"Lady Wetheral assures me your heart is free."

Christobelle hesitated. Why did she feel ashamed to utter the truth, and end at once the displeasing subject? Why hesitate? She suffered many struggles between shame and timidity, but at last the victory was gained, and she spoke with resolution.

"My lord, I love another—I have given my affections to another person—excuse me."

His lordship bowed low, with peculiar frigidity of manner. "I wish you good morning, Miss Wetheral. I regret my intrusion: I am answered."

Christobelle curtseyed with equal hauteur.

"I am sorry my words have produced dissatisfaction, my lord. It was but just that my sentiments should not be misunderstood, and I do not reproach myself for having withheld an ungenerous and delusive hope. Good morning, my lord."

They parted with a second silent and distant salutation, and Lord Farnborough quitted the terrace.

Christobelle stood some moments, vainly endeavouring to gain fortitude to meet her mother—but now the deed was done, and his lordship had departed, the terror of Lady Wetheral's anger fell upon her heart, and she flew to her father for protection. Sir John Wetheral was in his study conversing with Spottiswoode, when Christobelle appeared, and both gentlemen rose, smiling at her entrance; but she threw herself into her father's arms with hurried steps, and besought him to save her from her mother's reproaches. She felt it was impossible to meet her alone, or bear the indignant flashes of her eye. She implored her father to be the bearer of her refusal, and to endeavour to soften her mother's anger, when she learned that Lord Farnborough was returning to Clanmoray, a rejected and offended suitor.

Sir John Wetheral soothed his daughter's fears with kind approval of her conduct. He spoke affectionately of her attachment to his friend, and commended the propriety of her sincere avowal to Lord Farnborough. He would leave her now under the soothing care of Spottiswoode, who was destined, he hoped, to be her future guide through life. He would give his Christobelle to his care, to listen to his reasonings and his affection, while he himself sought the presence of his lady. He bade his daughter fear nothing. He would shield her from all the storms of life, till he relinquished her into a husband's care. And, while she continued to act with honourable and high principles, untouched by sordid temptations, and the miseries of an insatiable ambition, she must be free from self-reproach, and would be patient under trials which could not greatly affect her peace of mind. Sir John Wetheral then placed his daughter's hand within the warm grasp of Spottiswoode, and left them together.

Lovers' happiness is composed of a million nothings, and every indescribable rapture, which in after days provoke the laughter and ridicule of its votaries. All those who have loved understand it well—and to those who have never known a sincere attachment, it is a sealed book. Christobelle utterly forgot all mundane concerns, as she listened to the fond effusions of her lover's heart, and owned an affection deep and imperious as his own. Christobelle almost forgot there was a drop of bitter yet left, in her cup of joy.

Sir John Wetheral passed on to his lady's apartment, little aware of the scene which awaited his peaceful nature, produced by defeated ambition, in an ardent spirit. Lady Wetheral was suffering severe nervous excitation as he entered her sitting-room, for Christobelle's protracted absence boded evil to her hopes. She looked earnestly in her husband's face, to read its import.

"You have seen Bell, you have seen Bell—tell me at once, if I am to be the mother of Lady Farnborough."

"Gertrude," replied her husband, calmly, "do not destroy your health by these nervous excitements."

"Sir John, my nerves are excited by the conduct of my children. Am I the mother of the future Duchess of Forfar? Am I to be the proud mother of a child raised to the very pinnacle of worldly grandeur?"

"You will be the mother of a child truly happy in her worldly prospects, if your mind will but look rationally upon its promises, my dear Gertrude."

"Am I to be the mother of Lady Farnborough?" repeated the excited parent.

"Our daughter has not committed the base folly of accepting one man, when her heart belonged to another, Gertrude."

"Did I not do so before her, Sir John? I never repented my marriage!"

"It might be so, my love, but Chrystal never possessed your ambition, to soar over affection and honour, through its cold dictates."

"Am I to understand Bell has refused Lord Farnborough, Sir John? Is that the reading of your words? Pray speak it in intelligible words."

"Christobelle has declined his lordship, Gertrude. Her heart preferred Spottiswoode, and my concurrence went with it."

"Perhaps you will convey a message from me to the future Lady Spottiswoode of Alverton, among the flat meadows of Worcestershire, Sir John," replied his lady, in the calm tones of suppressed anger. "Tell my Lady Spottiswoode it is my request she never presumes to appear before me during the days of her singlehood."

"Gertrude, Gertrude," exclaimed her husband, "is this request a fit message from a mother to her child?"

"I had always a dislike to scenes," observed her ladyship, "therefore, I shall not reproach Miss Wetheral with her deceptive conduct in allowing attentions from a quarter which I never countenanced, and after my express commands to avoid them. I ever deprecated scenes before Lady Kerrison—but her violent spirit scorned restraint. She gave me deep pain; and Lady Ennismore's banishment has caused me pain—but this stroke lies far deeper in my heart!"

Lady Wetheral became all nerve: her whole person was in a nervous trembling. Her husband failed in every effort to tranquillize her spirit.

"You may dilate upon the supreme excellence of your favourite Spottiswoode, my love, and you may assure me your daughter is an enviable and a happy being; but I know she has cast aside a ducal coronet, to wed the poor baronet of Alverton! I will see her no more. I will never see her again."

"My dear Gertrude, be tranquil, and be rational." Sir John Wetheral never could be persuaded to lose his temper.

"I am perfectly tranquil and calm, Sir John. I am perfectly tranquil, and very rational in my commands, when I persist in banishing my unnatural child from my sight. Miss Wetheral has taken her measures, and I assert mine. We do not meet again."

"This is wrong, a wicked wrong, towards an innocent child, Gertrude!"

"She is very innocent," retorted Lady Wetheral, with bitterness. "Her innocence has caused her to oppose my wishes, and to dare that which her sisters never presumed to do. They never contravened my views, nor thwarted my wishes in their establishment, and they married well!"

"Was it well with Clara?" demanded her husband, with earnestness of manner as startling as it was novel—"was it well with Clara? Did she not quit her home clandestinely, to become the wife of Kerrison?—miserable in her short career, and sudden in her death, was she happy? Is Clara to be held forth as an evidence of maternal care, in such a momentous concern?"

"Forbear, Sir John, forbear!" cried his lady.

"Nay, but Gertrude, has it been well with Julia, whom you taught to fly at quarry so distasteful? Wedded to imbecility—banished from her home and country, unseen and unheard of—is she, too, an evidence of your talent in contriving establishments?"

"I tell you," exclaimed her ladyship, "Julia is an earl's wife; and Clara's position was high and grandly placed, but her own hand plucked her down. Who can reproach me?"

"I will not reproach you, Gertrude, but I counsel you to spare this last poor child. Remember only your fatal mistakes, and do not add a third victim. I will not allow Christobelle to be sacrificed to your ambition."

"Ring for Bevan, I am very ill—ring for Bevan, but let no one else come near me. I am not hard-hearted! Clara called me hard-hearted: I am not hard-hearted! I am a disappointed, deceived mother. Where is Bevan?"

Mrs. Bevan appeared with the remedies, which time had taught her to dispense as judiciously as her predecessor, Mrs. Daniel Higgins, had done; but Lady Wetheral's attack threatened a longer continuance than usual. She would fain have retired to her own room, but Sir John perceived her inability to move without assistance: her ladyship trembled excessively. He bore her in his arms to her bed-side, and Mrs. Bevan, after assisting her lady to repose, proceeded to close the shutters, and exclude the bright sunbeams. Lady Wetheral became still more nervous.

"Bevan, let me have light—let me have light! If I cannot see the sun, it will be darkness of body and mind. Don't leave me, Bevan. Sir John, where are you?"

Sir John stood near, in a state of offended alarm: his mind was discomposed—it never became angry.

"Sir John, I cannot remain at Fairlee: take me back to Wetheral. Bell has destroyed my health. I was quite well till this wretched match, which has destroyed all my plans, and thrown down all my hopes! It has made me ill—worse than ever!"

It was not in the power of reason, much less in Sir John Wetheral's power, to check the indignant feelings which affected his lady's mind upon the subject of Lord Farnborough's refusal. Each attempt to argue away their violence did but increase the evil. Nothing could induce her ladyship to receive Christobelle at her bed-side, or hear a word pleaded in her defence. Christobelle's attachment to Sir John Spottiswoode, and her subsequent refusal to accept Lord Farnborough's proposal, appeared to destroy the ties of affection which had never been closely woven together, for his ladyship declared her daughter's presence would kill her upon the spot. The sad event which occasioned her flight from England, faded under the shock of Lord Farnborough's dismissal. Scotland would be to her sickened heart a remembrance of misery. Either Christobelle or herself must quit the shores of the now desolate and cold Lochleven, upon whose bosom she had once enjoyed such bright anticipations. All was ended, and joy had closed her brilliant wings for ever. This was an irrecoverable stroke.

Sir John Wetheral did not conceal from Christobelle the mandate which banished her from her mother's presence; and the consolation of Spottiswoode's presence was indeed necessary to soothe her distress of heart. Christobelle would cheerfully have contributed to her parent's comfort, had her wishes extended to less than the sacrifice of all happiness; but surely it was not reprehensible to withhold a shadow of hope, when her heart was not with Lord Farnborough! Surely it was not right to turn from the man she loved, when her affections were his beyond the power of recal, and when the voice of ambition alone demanded it! True, Julia and Clara's views were moulded by her mother's spirit, but then their hearts were untouched, and their unshackled affections might submit to her dictation. Ambition also impelled them to meet her wishes, and no private feeling struggled within their soul to deaden its influence; but Christobelle was another's!—she might suffer, but she could not change!

Sir John Spottiswoode believed that time would soften Lady Wetheral's displeasure, but Christobelle knew too well the bitterness of the disappointment, to lay such unction to her soul. Had she ever been a favourite with her ladyship—had her youth been pleasant in her sight, she might have hoped to obtain an influence through the operation of time, sufficient to effect a reconciliation in favour of her present attachment. But that had never been the case. Her birth was considered out of time—her sex displeased her—her education was uninteresting to her mother's mind. It was only at intervals, and under particular circumstances, that Christobelle received any commendation, and it expired with the cause which elicited its birth. Christobelle felt assured her mother would never forgive the wound inflicted upon her ambition. She felt assured her mother would never forgive the dismissal of Lord Farnborough.

Sir John Wetheral decided upon quitting Fairlee as soon as his lady felt equal to undertake the fatigue of a journey; and he also expressed a wish that a twelvemonth should elapse ere Christobelle became the wife of Spottiswoode. "His daughter," he said, "was young, and a twelvemonth might effect a change in her mother's feelings. It was Christobelle's duty to make some concessions to an offended parent, and twelvemonths would operate as a fair trial of the constancy of her own nature."

Christobelle submitted most willingly to this arrangement. The least wish of her father had ever been her rule of conduct, and his indulgence would have won obedience, had his wishes extended the period of the engagement. But Sir John required no painful sacrifices, no useless trials. Spottiswoode might visit Christobelle whenever his avocations enabled him to become a guest at Lidham, and he trusted time would soften Lady Wetheral's disappointed views. He dared not pronounce upon its certainty, but they had a right to hope the best.

The continued mortification which embittered Christobelle's repose, by Lady Wetheral's harsh mandate, at last induced Sir John to resolve upon his daughter quitting Fairlee. It was a painful and perpetual grievance to Christobelle, to know that her mother was ill, and confined to her apartments, yet that she was not suffered to alleviate her confinement, or attend her. It was a grief which the affectionate attentions of her lover could not control, and which her father's soothing presence did not lessen. Her appetite declined and her spirits fled. Spottiswoode also became dispirited and uneasy in witnessing her regrets, and Sir John Wetheral, alarmed at his daughter's increasing depression, wrote to Mr. Boscawen to meet them at Edinburgh, and conduct Christobelle to his own home for a season.

It was judged, that absence from a scene so painful, and the society of Isabel, would cheer her spirits, and soften her present sorrow; while, under the protection of Mr. Boscawen, she might receive the visits of Sir John Spottiswoode, and move among the friends she loved, and whom she had not seen for some years. Spottiswoode would remain some time longer at Fairlee, and it might be, that his lengthened sojourn in the north would produce a favourable effect upon the invalid's mind. It might be, that the knowledge of her daughter's withdrawal would rouse her, and if any human being could amuse and soften a harsh determination in Lady Wetheral's soul, that being was the good and kind Spottiswoode.

Christobelle wandered each day with her lover through the scenes of their early walks, and if the exercise failed to bring the bloom into her cheek, yet she was happy while leaning on his arm, and listening to his hopes. They spoke of Alverton in the rocky bower which she was so soon to quit. Christobelle looked upon the water, and she thought of the years of careless freedom in which she had wandered among those beautiful scenes with Janet for her sole companion. She thought of the Douglas Isle, where she had first seen Lord Farnborough, and the spot from whence she had waved her plaid at their parting. Christobelle thought of her gradually increasing passion for Spottiswoode—the hopes and fears of St. Mungo's Isle—the pangs of jealous feelings which she endured when Fanny Ponsonby engrossed the attention of him she loved:—she thought, too, of her present situation, the betrothed of Spottiswoode, yet the banished one from her mother's side. Would that mother, indeed, continue to drive her child from her presence, or might she yet receive her smile and hear her welcome? Should she be indeed the happy wife of Spottiswoode, and become, as he fondly styled her, the bright star of Alverton? Christobelle wept. Spottiswoode pressed her to his heart.

"My own Chrystal, this silent grief destroys me, for it is through me you suffer. Would to Heaven you were safe at Brierly with your friends, and that I was with you! I shall soon follow you, for here I cannot remain without you. I should hear you sigh, and see your weeping figure in every spot where we have been together. I shall look like the ghost of departed Pleasure. You will leave me on Friday, my Chrystal."

"For a few days only, Spottiswoode."

"I shall know you are in kind protection, dearest. You will be with the best of men in Boscawen's company, and you love him as well as Isabel. Her children will amuse you. You will see the Pynsents. You will hardly have time to think of me, Chrystal."

"I will try to forget you sometimes; I wonder if I shall succeed."

"You have nephews and nieces to engross your attention; you will be joked by Mrs. Pynsent, Chrystal, for fancying your poor lover. Every body will crowd round you, to admire your loveliness, and wonder at your graceful figure; and yet I must not be there to witness it. What shall I do without you?"

The tears sprung to Chrystal's eyes; she endeavoured to disperse them, but they fell unbidden. Her mind was weakened by recent events. She clasped her hands, and exclaimed,—

"Oh, do not say you will suffer, Spottiswoode, by my absence."

"No, no, my love," he replied, with fond endearments, "I will not think of our little trial. You will go from me on Friday; but are you not my own betrothed bride, and are we not one in heart and hand? You will rejoice your friends, and be rejoiced in meeting them. I shall also rejoice, in the knowledge of your happiness. Our thoughts will meet often and often in our absence; and then, my Chrystal, we shall meet again in peace. I cannot and will not remain a week absent from you."

Christobelle smiled again to think their separation was not eternal. How many attached hearts had been torn asunder, while they were mourning over the parting of a few short days! How many hearts had bid a long farewell, while they should meet again and be in peace! Again she leaned against her lover's shoulder, and her thoughts were of grateful thanks. She was not called to severe affliction—she was not beloved by a man whose birth or character was repugnant to her friends, and to whom her happiness was a source of discomfort and disgust. Even her mother had not deprecated Spottiswoode: his offence in her eyes arose from having won her daughter from Lord Farnborough. Her father loved him, and approved her attachment. Yes, Christobelle had reason to be thankful to the hand which ministered so wisely for her happiness. Her mother would not always be harsh; surely she might in time be summoned into her presence! She would never be forgiven; she never had been loved; and the slight cord of affection was broken for ever between them: but they might meet without pain, she hoped, on her mother's part; and she herself would exert unceasing efforts to win her into complacency. Her mother must love Spottiswoode, when time should soften her remembrance of Lord Farnborough's attentions.

Christobelle spoke of Fanny Ponsonby to her companion, now that her heart was at rest; and alluded to her emotions in St. Mungo's Isle. Spottiswoode had, from the first hour of their introduction, discovered her predilection for Lord Farnborough.

"I could trace it, Chrystal, in the agitated and close attention she bestowed upon yourself, and in her anxiety to remove from your vicinity. I saw the distressed feelings of her heart, as she watched the engrossed attention of Farnborough at dinner: and I felt for her sufferings during the singing. I felt for her and for myself at that moment, Chrystal, for I also fancied you approved his lordship."

"How could you think so, Spottiswoode?"

"Lady Wetheral's words were in my ears, Chrystal, and I had relinquished all hope for myself."

"What a day of misery it was to me!" Christobelle exclaimed, as she thought of all she had endured. "Fanny Ponsonby's feelings were all echoed by my own."

"It was a painful day to many, Chrystal; but to us it has proved a blessing, for it confessed our sentiments at once, and prepared the way for our mutual understanding. Had you not expressed disapprobation of Lord Farnborough, I had not dared to tell my feelings. Was it not a blessing, my love?"

"But poor Fanny Ponsonby, what will be her destiny?" Christobelle asked, as she returned the pressure of Spottiswoode's hand. "What will be her fate in her attachment?"

"Miss Ponsonby has sown her seed among thorns," he replied, with feeling, "and her heart must wrestle with its feelings, unless she becomes his wife. Lord Farnborough may turn to Miss Ponsonby, since you have rejected him, and she may become the envied Lady Farnborough; but she will only sink into a neglected wife. He cannot make a woman happy."

"Oh! if I had seen him with my mother's eyes, and fallen a sacrifice!" observed Christobelle, with a shudder.

"I should have quitted England, Chrystal. I would not have witnessed your misery, or remained within hearing of your gradual decay. You could not long live under his harsh treatment, and I could not have borne to hear the world remark upon your pale cheek and faded form."

"How grateful I am! how happy I ought to be, Spottiswoode! When you come to see me at Brierly, and I do not suffer daily under my mother's angry prohibition, you will find me so changed and happy! When I think of Lord Farnborough, I turn to you with such grateful delight! Yes, Spottiswoode, I will be happy!"

And Christobelle exerted herself to be happy, even the few days which intervened between her expressed gratitude and her long farewell to Fairlee. She sat hour after hour upon the terrace, with her father and Spottiswoode, looking with deep interest upon the lake, the scene of all her pleasures, while she was happy in ignorance of a deep affection, and the scene of suffering during the stirring incidents which had awakened her heart to the strife of worldly sorrow. Lochleven was endeared to Christobelle by a thousand recollections, by the enjoyments of her young age, and by the happy hours passed by the side of Spottiswoode. She was going to the south, to a new scene that would be changed in its aspect; gayer, full of friends, and still blest by the society of him she loved. But would it be to her like the grand Lochleven?—that shelter from the world's cares? that spot where she had enjoyed such long tranquillity? Adieu for a long, long time, the cloud-capped mountains, the heather hills, the placid waters! farewell the islands on its bosom—the groves, the far Cona! Farewell the stirring breeze, the lonely Eilan na Corak—the repose, the grandeur of the shores of Lochleven!

Christobelle endured much, ere she set forth with her father from Fairlee. She bore her parting interview with Spottiswoode with great intrepidity; but she wept at her mother's obdurate determination not to see her before she quitted the parental roof. Sir John Wetheral soothed her as she gazed upon the lake, till it vanished from her aching sight: and he prophesied that her trial would not be lengthened beyond her power to endure it. He spoke kindly and well to her overpowered spirit, of the sorrows which must accompany a progress through life, and of the consolation which attended a patient and praying spirit. He did not consider it right to allow Spottiswoode to accompany them, as her mother evinced such decided repugnance to the match; but at Brierly, Christobelle might enjoy her lover's society in peace; and he would accompany his lady to Wetheral as soon as she expressed a wish to set forth on the long journey. New scenes, new faces, and a new set of ideas would, he hoped, drive gloomy fancies from her mind, and bring comfort to all parties. She was on her road to Isabel, and with her and Boscawen she must enjoy the calm pleasures of domestic happiness. They would lead her to agreeable thoughts, and Spottiswoode would speedily add his society to the enjoyments of Brierly.

Such was Sir John Wetheral's reasoning, and its effects were apparent upon Christobelle's spirits. She gradually recovered cheerfulness under his indulgent soothings, and she could even admire the changing scenery which varied their route to Edinburgh. Mr. Boscawen was true to his appointment; they found him at the place of rendezvous, ready to conduct Christobelle to the county of her birth, and induct her once more into the domicile which had sheltered her so kindly years before.

Mr. Boscawen was surprised at her growth, and wondered at the girl who had glided into womanhood so rapidly. He thought her features bore a strong resemblance to her unfortunate sister Clara; but he politely assured her, her manner was entirely her own. She was no longer, he said, "the gay little half-grown girl, who had delighted to nurse her nephew under the mulberry tree at Brierly. She must be looked upon in a very different phase; and he feared the quiet haunts of Brierly would ring with the charms of the beautiful Miss Wetheral. He was pleased to think she possessed a protector whose claims would at once put an end to the fearful contention of furious rivals." Christobelle's blushes were the only answers she could give to the agreeable remarks of Mr. Boscawen.

Sir John Wetheral's absence would not be of long continuance, therefore Christobelle did not sorrow much as she bade him adieu. She prayed him to speak of her to her mother, and to express her deepest regret at having incurred her displeasure. She prayed for her pardon, and that they might meet again in reconciliation. She looked to her forgiveness with anxious desire, with a fervent and unceasing hope. She embraced her dear father, and bade him remember her kindly, affectionately, to the friend she had left at Fairlee, and then she gave her hand to Mr. Boscawen.