"I have kept my word, Chrystal, to salute you upon your birthday. I made great efforts to achieve the journey in time, and I have brought another friend to congratulate you upon your looks and studies." Christobelle turned towards the stranger, and a cry of pleasure burst from her lips; it was Sir John Spottiswoode. The sight of her instructor, her companion, her kindest friend, at once obliterated all other thoughts, and she caught his offered hand with feelings of most enviable enjoyment. She had now again a companion to ramble with, to talk with. She would no more mourn under her mother's petulance, or roam the borders of Lochleven unattended. Christobelle did say to him at that joyful moment—and she said it in sincerity—"Oh! now I shall be happy—now I shall have you always with me again!"
Sir John Spottiswoode expressed his equal pleasure at the meeting, and he complimented Christobelle upon her appearance of perfect health. It was a grateful satisfaction to find she had not forgotten him. He remembered, with interest, their former studies, and he expected to be astonished by her rapid progress in every pursuit, during the long interregnum of four years. Christobelle assured him of his mistake.
"I have been a wild creature for years, and, except in drawing and music, I have not done credit to your instructions. You will be obliged to begin my education again, Sir John."
"Bell is a dear, flighty girl," said Lady Wetheral, in affectionate accents, which had never yet gladdened her daughter's heart at Fairlee—"Bell is wild as the curlews upon the lake. She requires your society to tame her flights. She has been absent now three long hours."
"I have seen extraordinary things, and extraordinary people," Christobelle exclaimed, as she doffed her mountain-cap, and took Sir John Spottiswoode's offered seat.
"In that dress, my love?—surely not in that dress, Bell?"
"I have been among the high ones of the land," continued Christobelle, in high spirits, delighted at being with her father, and near Sir John Spottiswoode. "I have been among the gay Southrons in Douglas Isle, and a peer of the realm has escorted me across the lake."
Lady Wetheral looked incredulous, and somewhat offended. Christobelle was obliged to detail the events of the morning, to mitigate the rising storm; and what a change came over her ladyship's countenance, as her daughter mentioned the attention and intended visit of Lord Farnborough!—joy sparkled in her eyes, and excitement drew her form to its utmost height. She did not answer—words were too feeble to express her deep gratification.
"What sort of a looking person is Lord Farnborough, now?" asked Sir John Spottiswoode.
"Most intelligent, most agreeable," she replied, "but not handsome. I do not consider him handsome."