Christobelle was not aware of the compliment conveyed in her observation. She spoke from her heart simply and sincerely, without considering its flattering tendency. Sir John Spottiswoode caught her hand, and released it again suddenly. He turned abruptly away.
"Do not speak so recklessly, so heartlessly, I beseech you!"
"I never was suspected of heartlessness, Sir John Spottiswoode!"
Christobelle also turned away, for proud tears rose at the unexpected attack. She was quitting the room.
"Stay one moment, and say you forgive me," he cried with energy. "Forgive me, Miss Wetheral—forgive me, my generous pupil!"
Christobelle turned at the last expression, and her emotion was apparent, for he caught her in his arms.
"I cannot support this sight! What right had I to presume to give pain! What right had I to breathe a harsh expression towards a creature all heart, and all nobleness!"
"I am not angry," she replied, withdrawing from his embrace—"I am not angry, Sir John Spottiswoode; only I do not deserve the appellation of heartless. I spoke in sincerity and truth."
"I know you did. I was wrong to speak as I did—forgive me!"