"Ha!" exclaimed his lordship, "then he has preceded me? Lady Wetheral, allow me an immediate conference, if you please."
"Certainly, my lord; we will retire into my own sitting-room."
"Here, if you please, for time is very precious. Will you allow me to lead you upon the terrace, Lady Wetheral? You must excuse my impetuosity."
Lady Wetheral accepted Lord Farnborough's offered arm, and she was hurried upon the terrace; but not a glance or movement on her part betokened fatigue, or a remnant of her past languor. Her step was firm, and her eyes beamed with expected triumph.
"Chrystal, my own Chrystal," cried Sir John Spottiswoode, as the receding figures were lost to sight, "if ever I loved and admired you more truly and fondly than I fancied I could do, it was at the moment you renounced your plans to obey a parent, with a smile on your lip, and regret in your dear heart."
"But my real misery is yet to come," exclaimed Christobelle, though she felt herself pressed to the warm heart of her lover, and there was blessedness in the pressure.
"But why so?" he asked tenderly; "what has Chrystal to fear?"
"Lord Farnborough's visit is connected with myself; I know it as surely as if I heard the words spoken. I know I have so much to endure from my mother!"
"But you are mine, Chrystal; and who can take you from me now? Are you not my own, my very own?"
"I know it: I feel secure of you; but my mother will say such harsh things!"