"Then be very cautious, Captain Ponsonby," said Christobelle, with a feeling of painful interest. She felt how sorrowful were the disappointments of friendship. What would the pangs of unrequited affection be?
"Will you be my guardian angel, and watch over me, Miss Wetheral?"
"I cannot undertake such a momentous charge," she replied. Lord Farnborough watched the conversation in gloomy silence, and conversed no more with Miss Quintin. Lady Wetheral was gratified by the expression of jealousy which darkened his lordship's fine face, for, during the little bustle of debarkation, she smiled, and hastily whispered—"Christobelle, very well managed, my love; a little jealousy is useful, but beware of giving offence."
"Mamma, you are quite mistaken, indeed you are."
"Nonsense, Bell; I am keenly watching and deciding." Lord Farnborough offered his hand to assist her transit at that moment, and the subject was of course dropped. Captain Ponsonby offered his hand to Miss Wetheral, and they followed in succession: he placed her arm within his own, as they touched the shore of the little island. "Mind, you belong to me, Miss Wetheral; I shall not relinquish you now."
Lord Farnborough consigned Lady Wetheral to his father's care, and immediately returned. His lordship appeared offended at the disposition of things.
"Miss Wetheral, I am deputed by Lady Wetheral to bring you to her: allow me—" Lord Farnborough put forth his arm. Captain Ponsonby interfered.
"No one takes my guardian angel from me. I will take charge of Miss Wetheral with equal care. Miss Wetheral is mine."
"My claim began earlier, Ponsonby," remarked his lordship, with a look of fierceness.
"I will fight for every inch of mine. My good fellow, the Quintins are unattended."