"Miss Chrystal, there is something going on there which I can't make out, neither can Mr. Daniel. My lady, she wrote to invite herself to Bedinfield for change of air, after Miss Clara's marriage, and a letter came in reply from the dowager, which I never made out clearly; for my master, he had a long interview with my lady, and nothing was said about it. My lady wept a good deal, but she never spoke to me upon the subject, which I do not take kindly, for I have always been consulted upon family matters; and Heaven knows, Miss Chrystal, how I held forth upon poor Miss Clara's sweet temper, when you know her best mood would turn milk into vinegar!"
"And Anna Maria?"
"Oh! for ever, Miss Chrystal, what a place that Paris is! Mrs. Pynsent, our young lady that was, writes word they are coming home, for they have not eaten an intelligible thing since they quitted Wetheral. Poor young Mr. Pynsent declares a vixen fox roasted and well peppered, would be far better than the ragouts and frogs he has been obliged to eat since he left old England. Mr. Daniel says, the Hatton people have sent them an invitation to return there for a time. Mrs. Pynsent, the old lady, has been very low and poorly since her son married, and she spends almost every other day with Mrs. Hancock."
They turned, at this moment, from the high-road into the Wetheral grounds, and Christobelle was obliged to compose her features and heart into something like external tranquillity. She made fearful efforts to banish Isabel and Brierly from her thoughts; she could not think upon the child whom she loved so dearly. She tried to remember alone her father's precepts, and act upon his often repeated cautions, to begin early in life the important task of sacrificing pleasure to duty, and to pray for strength to act uprightly and obediently to his laws. She did pray at this moment; and her earnest repetition of the prayer which he taught her to offer up daily to her parent in heaven, caused some words to escape which reached Thompson's ear. She turned towards her with quickness.
"Well, for ever and two days, Miss Chrystal, if you are not saying your prayers! Don't let my lady hear you going on so, or she will be angry; she called me a methodist the other day with her own lips, because I said just a few words about Mr. Daniel being a church-going man: and so he is, Miss Chrystal, I assure you."
Christobelle's heart leaped when she saw her father standing upon the lawn, as they drove up the avenue. The happy hours, the quiet delights of his study, his affection for her, his long, solitary readings, while she was absent—all and each pressed upon her mind, and absorbed all thoughts of Brierly. There he stood watching their approach, and smiling upon his child the same benignant smile which ever welcomed her presence into his study: she held out her arms, though she could not reach him; but the chaise stopped, and she was soon in the parental embrace. How was she caressed and welcomed after an absence of three months!
Christobelle thought there was a change in her father; but she was too young to discover or dwell upon the cause. She fancied his manner more grave, and his voice was melancholy; but her attention was attracted to a thousand trifles, and she forgot to gaze upon him. She was listening to all that had occurred in her absence. Christobelle took tea with her father alone, and to him she detailed the happiness she had enjoyed at Brierly; the odd ways of Miss Boscawen, the perfect bliss of Isabel: a smile lighted up his countenance.
"I married Isabel to a good man, and she was certain of happiness: her child is a delightful gift, but her content proceeds from her husband's temper and principles. Isabel is a warm-hearted girl; she must be happy with Boscawen." Christobelle assured him her thoughts were wrapped up in her babe, much more than in Boscawen. Isabel only lived for her child.
"She may think so," replied Sir John, "and you may judge it is so; but when you have lived a little longer, you will both perceive a woman's happiness to depend upon her husband's principles. If he is worthless, she must be miserable; and children increase the misery, if she loves them. Boscawen is a good man, and Isabel is happy. Be careful in your choice, Chrystal."
"Oh! papa, you shall choose for me."