"I have this to say," she replied, with a seriousness foreign to her usual manner, "I have to say, that, much as I liked you as a girl, I love you far better than ever, now, because you had the sense to refuse a young coroneted rascal some time ago, and choose a man who will be a jewel to you. You showed sense and spirit in refusing to be manœuvred into wickedness, to lead the abominable life which two of your sisters have been doomed to suffer; and you showed a right woman's warm heart, in taking a man whom I like and respect next to my own Tom for comeliness and godliness. When a young woman marries such a tight lad as Jacky Spottiswoode, she knows she will be happy to the day of her death, and be respected among her friends. Now, Miss Bell, what do you say to that?"
Christobelle said nothing. Tears filled her eyes, and spoke volumes for her. She was affected with the idea that all her friends, except one, approved the connexion she was about to form. Mrs. Pynsent's remarks affected her still more, because they were spoken with unusual quietness of manner and phrase, and her words ever came from the fountain of her heart in all truth and sincerity. She spoke, too, the sentiments of those around her; Christobelle judged so, by Mrs. Pynsent assuring her of the respect of her friends. It was a deep gratification to think her attachment was sanctioned by those she loved and honoured; and it was a grateful pride to feel assured the finger of scorn or ridicule had never pointed observations offensive to the high character of her beloved Spottiswoode. Was it to be wondered at that she sat silent by the side of Mrs. Pynsent, enjoying feelings too blessed for utterance? She saw her agitation, and forbore to notice it; but Mrs. Pynsent was not wanting in real delicacy to those who did not offend her notions of right; and to Christobelle she had ever shown peculiar kindness. She addressed her daughter.
"I say, Anna Maria, we'll have old Sally Hancock to spend the evening with us, to compliment Miss Bell. It's all over with Sal now, so she won't shock the company. You need not be afraid of Sally Hancock any more, for she can't speak, if she was dying for it. I can see her poor eyes glare up sometimes; you won't mind Sally Hancock. She likes to watch the children, and when they don't pull her crutch from her, they are great friends. Moll and Bab often imitate her walk, but Sally Hancock only laughs at them."
"I wish the children would not fight so much," remarked Anna Maria.
"Fiddle diddle! my Tom fought Pen Spottiswoode like a dragon when he was their age, and he is all the better for it. I don't like to keep down their spirits. How would our little Moll climb the sycamore, if she hadn't a fearless spirit? Well, look at Bobby, between those two great monsters upon the lawn! Boscawen looks such a long animal, compared with Bobby. Don't you think Bobby is worn into half a goose, Miss Bell? He looks trussed for the spit."
"I think Mr. Pynsent looking very well—better than your letters insinuated, Mrs. Pynsent."
"Poor Bobby! no, he's nothing better than half a goose now; but Sally Hancock and myself remember him a smart lad. There goes the half-hour bell!"
"Come, then, Bell, we will depart, for my toilette is a long affair," said her sister, rising.
"I say," called Mrs. Pynsent, as they left the room, "I say, Anna Maria, don't let Bell into the secrets of the prison-house."
"Oh! Bell knows all about that!" replied the laughing Anna Maria. "Tom is the only person who does not know my secret. Every body knows I only rouge to please Tom."