Christobelle did not continue the dialogue. She gave her whole attention to her netting, till the gentlemen returned, and till Sir John Spottiswoode commenced his reading: her whole soul was then engrossed in the fate of the fair and gentle Ellen. Gradually her hands relaxed their grasp, as the story proceeded—gradually her eyes turned upon the reader, and her netting fell disregarded upon the carpet. She was listening to the scene where Malcolm hears the praises of Ellen from the lips of Douglas:
"If a father's partial thought
O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught—
Well might the lover's judgment fail
To balance with a juster scale;
For with each secret glance he stole,
The fond enthusiast sent his soul."
The eyes of Sir John Spottiswoode rested upon Christobelle as he spoke these lines, and she felt a pain at her heart before unknown, and now indescribable. Lady Wetheral caught the mutual expression, and was struck by the sudden paleness of her daughter's countenance. She turned to Sir John Spottiswoode.
"You will smile at a lady's nerves, and decide us to be incomprehensible beings; but the continual flow of your voice vibrates upon my nerves in a peculiar manner. I must feel unwell, since a voice like your own creates nervousness. I will retire, for a short period, to appeal once more to camphor-julep. My dear Bell will give me her arm."
Sir John Spottiswoode rose in alarm.
"My dear sir, these trifling attacks are becoming less and less frequent. My daughter and myself will leave you and Sir John together. I trust these attacks are not to be often repeated; but we shall meet at luncheon, I hope, quite recovered."
The mother and daughter quitted the sitting-room; but, as they passed through the door, held open by Sir John Spottiswoode, he took Christobelle's hand, and kindly hoped she would not be too ill to enjoy a breeze upon the terrace. "Oh! yes, this evening I shall truly enjoy the pure air," she replied, withdrawing her hand as they passed on.
"If there is any thing most displeasing to me," observed Lady Wetheral, as they entered her dressing-room, "it is comprised in that familiar action of shaking hands upon every occasion. I beg you will avoid it in future."
"It was merely to express a kind wish, en passant," Christobelle remarked, "that Sir John Spottiswoode just touched my hand."