"Here, come with me, young lady, and I'll take you to your father. Remember every word in your heart of hearts which he utters." Mrs. Pynsent put Christobelle's arm within her own, and continued, as they quitted the room, "Some of her young ones have turned out well, in spite of her. I hope that will tell for her hereafter. Don't fret, now, and make your poor father wish himself at Old Nick: he'll want comfort at Wetheral, and you must comfort him. Here, Sir John, I've brought your good girl to you: don't let her marry in a hurry—ware sheep! There, take her into your care, and hide her for the next seven years."
Sir John Wetheral received his daughter with smiling pleasure, and they proceeded to make their adieus to the remaining company. The Tom Pynsents were engaged to spend the following day at Wetheral, and Mrs. Pynsent invited herself to accompany them. She had no intention of leaving Tom, just as he was returned from outlandish places. It might disturb the family party at Wetheral, but she liked to watch him enjoying the good roast beef of Old England and home-brewed ale again, and she would follow him to Old Nick, to see him looking so jolly and happy. "Bobby might have Sally Hancock to keep him company; he did not object to her when he was alone."
Sir John Wetheral particularly requested the pleasure of Mr. Pynsent's company to complete the family circle.
"Oh! well, I'll tell him what you say," replied Mrs. Pynsent. "Bobby has been snoring these two hours: he can't bear late hours at all. We shall do very well without him to-morrow, for he only sits licking his lips. Bobby never shone much—but I'll give your message. Sally Hancock will take very good care of him: it's a treat to her, you know."
The Wetherals' farewells were rather lengthy, for they had many friends to hold converse with. Miss Wycherly hovered round them for some time, as if she had some disclosure to make which required effort. She suddenly caught Sir John's hand as he was quitting the room, and spoke quickly, "Have you heard from Bedinfield lately?"
"Not very lately; why do you appear so anxious, my dear Miss Wycherly?"
"I am very uncomfortable about Julia," she replied: "I have written three letters without receiving any reply. I am sure the Dowager is there; and I am equally sure she separates Julia from her friends. Julia always loved her friends, and there is something wrong when a woman is compelled to drop her old companions. It is not Julia's fault; I'll stake my existence upon Julia's true heart: there is double dealing somewhere, Sir John."
Sir John expressed his intention of visiting Bedinfield the following week, and Christobelle was to accompany him. He would be the bearer of a letter from Miss Wycherly with pleasure. Miss Wycherly's mind was greatly relieved.
"Oh! if you go, Sir John, all will be well. I shall hear the truth from you, and you will find how unchanged dear Julia is. Tell her, from me, that my love and gratitude is unchangeable, and that my home is her home for ever and ever. Tell her I care not for her silence, because it is not her doing; and though we may never more meet, she will be Julia Wetheral, as freshly and fondly my friend, as when she married a man who could not deserve her. Tell her this from me, Sir John."
Miss Wycherly passed on with her lover, and the Wetherals entered their carriage in silence. Sir John sighed heavily, and did not enter into any conversation with his daughter during their drive home: doubtless there was bitterness in his thoughts. Christobelle lost all painful recollections of the emotion caused by Mrs. Pynsent's conversation, in pleasing remembrance of the pleasures of the day. She had enjoyed herself with the pure, unalloyed happiness which attends youth, ere it is pursued by care, and before it endures disappointment. She considered that day as the very happiest portion of her life. She had been kindly and hospitably welcomed by every one, and not a word of reproach or disgust had been levelled at her. Every one seemed delighted to see her eat and dance, to her heart's content. Nothing could surpass the pleasure of that day—nothing had ever equalled it!