"The lady's own fair word, Ponsonby."
"I will hear it from her own lips. Miss Wetheral, Genius of the Lake, as they truly style you...."
"I dispute the title," exclaimed Miss Ponsonby. "I have also adopted the costume, and I choose to share the distinction."
"Unfortunate Mary!—name fatal to peace upon Lochleven, be still. Does Miss Wetheral consign herself wholly and solely to Lord Farnborough?"
"I wish to go with my father," eagerly replied Christobelle.
Lord Farnborough bowed proudly and coldly. Captain Ponsonby waved his hat in the air.
"Hurrah for Miss Wetheral and independence! For once, my lord, you are refused—checked in your high careering. Miss Wetheral, will you give your fair hand to a portionless son?"
Captain Ponsonby held out his arm to escort her to his vessel, but Christobelle's hand was taken gently yet firmly by her mother.
"My dear daughter thanks you, gentlemen, for your polite and amusingly-agreeable knight-errantry. Captain Ponsonby, however, is only unsuccessful from being too late. I believe honour is a treasure too delicate to endure a breath of reproach, and we are pledged to my Lord Farnborough."
"Then, 'soft ideas fly,'" said Captain Ponsonby, laying his hand upon his heart.