"Yes; his eyes were fixed upon your hand a full half hour at dinner—an hour, as we sat talking, and all the voyage; yet, like Lady Macbeth, his eyes were open, but their sense was closed. He has a lady-love in the south."
Christobelle started at Captain Ponsonby's suggestion. Impossible! she would not believe it! She never heard such a thing alluded to. If Sir John Spottiswoode loved in the south, Mrs. Pynsent would have named it. How came Captain Ponsonby to imagine such folly! The very supposition of Sir John's attachment, however, created pain, and chilled her into silence. Captain Ponsonby's conversation soon became wearisome, and she was glad when they reached Clanmoray.
It was a relief to find Lord Farnborough absent, and still more a relief to perceive the second party approaching in the distance. She wanted to be at Fairlee, to enjoy rest, and silence, and free communion with her thoughts. Captain Ponsonby's spirits were oppressive, and his polite anxiety amounted to absolute annoyance. Christobelle was ill, and restless, and eager to return home.
The carriage was ordered as soon as Lady Wetheral arrived, and the Fairlee party were supplied by Miss Ponsonby with comfortable refreshment in the article of stockings and shoes. Every other apparel had been spared, by the thoughtful cares of Mrs. Ponsonby, who had wisely ordered a depôt of cloaks and umbrellas on board. Lord Farnborough did not appear during their short rest at Clanmoray, and Captain Ponsonby led Christobelle to the carriage, after the ceremonies of leave-taking had concluded. Miss Ponsonby hoped to enjoy Miss Wetheral's society a little more exclusively at a future time; but she seemed to be the entire property of Arthur and Lord Farnborough at St. Mungo's Isle. There was policy in allowing novelty to exhaust its powers of pleasing; and she would reserve her society till it would fill up a chasm, formed by the secession of an admirer. "Depend upon it, all this cannot last, fair Christobelle, and, like me, you will some day search in vain for a Télémaque."
"I shall not live to see the day, Miss Wetheral," said her brother, as he led Christobelle forward.
"Don't attach the smallest credit to Arthur's compliments," cried Miss Ponsonby, kissing her hand.
"Mary is very incorrect in her statements, Miss Wetheral," said Captain Ponsonby, as they passed through the hall. "You will receive me with a smile, if I call at Fairlee to-morrow?"
"With many smiles, Captain Ponsonby."
"No, one little particular welcome smile is my hope—give your many smiles to Farnborough. Fare you well!"