"I will summon my daughter, my lord, and leave you together: I am sure of my child's ingenuous heart; and she will scorn to allow any man to remain in suspense, when his full intentions and hopes are disclosed."
Lady Wetheral's appearance at the sitting-room window unfolded her thoughts and expectations to Christobelle's mind in one glance. The subdued look of triumph, the forced calmness of manner, contrasted with the glowing expression of every feature, left her daughter not an instant in ignorance of what had taken place. She felt that her hour of trial was already arrived—that she must collect her thoughts, and meet, with patient firmness, all the crosses in her path—that she must redeem her promise of patience to her lover. Christobelle had little leisure for mental reflection, for Lady Wetheral entered the room, and compelled attention.
"My dear love, Lord Farnborough requests the honour of your attention for a few moments: I have promised that you will join his lordship on the terrace. Your instant acquiescence will oblige me, Bell." Sir John Spottiswoode quitted the room. She continued—"It is a relief to lose sight of one's friends for a few minutes; I wish Spottiswoode had found amusement elsewhere. Hasten, my dear girl, and meet me after your little consultation in my room. I won't say a word till you rejoin me; but, my dear child, this is the very happiest hour in my existence—a happier hour than when my Julia told me she had won Ennismore. My wish, Bell, has been gloriously fulfilled; every thing has crowned that wish, without an effort. I am a proud and happy mother!"
"Oh, mamma," cried Christobelle, kneeling before her, "do not misunderstand me, and do not hope against hope. I cannot marry Lord Farnborough!"
"Do not rouse me into anger, Bell, as you hope for peace in this world; and do not let me find you a mean-minded creature, content to live in insignificance. Go instantly, and meet Lord Farnborough."
"I cannot go, mamma; I have no affections to bestow upon Lord Farnborough—do not let me meet him! Tell him, I deplore his disappointment, if it proves such—but I cannot see him!"
Lady Wetheral's face turned pale as marble, as she caught Christobelle's hand, and dragged her forward.
"Tell me only that you are thinking of Captain Ponsonby, to break my heart at once, Bell!"
"Oh, no, not Ponsonby—I care not for Captain Ponsonby, mamma: but do not look so pale and angry—you terrify me!"
"So you have led me into error—deceived my hopes—and destroyed me, while you sought the love of Spottiswoode! Is that truly so? Is it Spottiswoode you love?"