Sir John parted with his daughter in the hall. He kissed her, as usual, but his voice was melancholy, and the parting short.
"Good night, my love—I am going to my study."
"Good night, dear papa!"
Sir John turned away, and Christobelle listened to his step, as it echoed through the hall, till he closed the chapel-door behind him. She then retired to her own room, and slept soundly, in spite of anticipations of lectures from her mother upon supposed improprieties committed at Hatton.
CHAPTER XVII.
Lady Wetheral was extremely disconcerted by the knowledge of Mrs. Pynsent's intended visit for the day. The hour of breakfast passed slowly and miserably to Christobelle, who bore the whole burden of her petulance, and gave offence by the silence with which she hoped to dispel her irritability. "She was not at all like her other girls. Clara was warm in her temper, but she had always something sharp or witty to say. Christobelle was the dullest creature she had ever been doomed to sit in company with. Thompson was a great loss, poor dear silly woman; the best creature in the world, and the greatest fool for marrying a man who could not settle something upon her. If Christobelle would have the kindness to inform her how Clara looked, she would be extremely obliged by the information. Perhaps that was a subject on which she might condescend to speak."
Christobelle told her mother all she had seen and heard; and how fearful she was, that another dispute had arisen between the Kerrisons, which would increase Clara's violence. Lady Wetheral smiled incredulously.