"I see him!—I could point him out among a hundred!"
"Whom do you see?" asked Sir John Spottiswoode, as he rose and advanced to her side—"Whom are you noting?"
Christobelle did not immediately reply. She continued gazing upon the lake, and several of the party were also observing them through their telescopes from below.
"But, tell me, Miss Wetheral, whom you note among a hundred, in that party," repeated Sir John Spottiswoode.
"He is standing with—no, he is sitting—that very large personage, the Duke of Forfar—you know the Duke of Forfar?"
"Oh yes, I see. How gratified his Grace would be at the knowledge of having attracted your observation! I think I see Lord Farnborough."
"Whom do you see?—I fancy I recognise Lady Anna Herbert's feather; and there is kind Miss Ponsonby," replied Christobelle, colouring.
"Lord Farnborough is standing in the stern of the vessel, Miss Wetheral: he is waving something—his handkerchief. Who is he waving to?"
A little conscious feeling prevented Christobelle from returning the salutation. She feared Sir John Spottiswoode would observe and smile at her action. She wished he had not told her Lord Farnborough was considered "fair and false." She had no belief in the insinuation, but it caused a very unpleasant restraint. The vessel passed under the jutting rocks immediately below them, and it was obscured for a time: when it reappeared, the distance did not allow them to distinguish the party. They heard the full notes of the French horns, however, till a headland concealed the vessels from sight; and, ere the last faint note died away, the sun was considerably below the horizon. Christobelle and her companion returned to Fairlee at the moment the servants were passing through the hall with coffee.
The evening passed in conversation upon the past and present, and Sir John Spottiswoode's society made Christobelle speedily forget the attentions of Lord Farnborough. The compliments of an attractive and agreeable person, for a few hours, could not compete with the presence of a dear friend, whose taste had led her own in many instances, and who had devoted so much time to accomplish her talents for music and painting. That friend had been remembered during an absence of four years; he had been often apostrophized in solitary walks, and she had wished in silence and sincerity to renew their pleasant intercourse. That boon was now granted. Sir John Spottiswoode was again her companion, and what desire of her heart remained ungratified?