Such was Sir John Wetheral's reasoning, and its effects were apparent upon Christobelle's spirits. She gradually recovered cheerfulness under his indulgent soothings, and she could even admire the changing scenery which varied their route to Edinburgh. Mr. Boscawen was true to his appointment; they found him at the place of rendezvous, ready to conduct Christobelle to the county of her birth, and induct her once more into the domicile which had sheltered her so kindly years before.
Mr. Boscawen was surprised at her growth, and wondered at the girl who had glided into womanhood so rapidly. He thought her features bore a strong resemblance to her unfortunate sister Clara; but he politely assured her, her manner was entirely her own. She was no longer, he said, "the gay little half-grown girl, who had delighted to nurse her nephew under the mulberry tree at Brierly. She must be looked upon in a very different phase; and he feared the quiet haunts of Brierly would ring with the charms of the beautiful Miss Wetheral. He was pleased to think she possessed a protector whose claims would at once put an end to the fearful contention of furious rivals." Christobelle's blushes were the only answers she could give to the agreeable remarks of Mr. Boscawen.
Sir John Wetheral's absence would not be of long continuance, therefore Christobelle did not sorrow much as she bade him adieu. She prayed him to speak of her to her mother, and to express her deepest regret at having incurred her displeasure. She prayed for her pardon, and that they might meet again in reconciliation. She looked to her forgiveness with anxious desire, with a fervent and unceasing hope. She embraced her dear father, and bade him remember her kindly, affectionately, to the friend she had left at Fairlee, and then she gave her hand to Mr. Boscawen.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
How delightedly did the eye of Christobelle rest upon the matronly form of Isabel! She was clasped in her arms, as she descended the steps of the chaise at Brierly.
"Well, I never saw such a beautiful creature in my life! My dear Christobelle, who would have thought you would turn out so very pretty? My dear Mr. Boscawen, were you not surprised at Christobelle's beauty, when you first saw her?"
"I was not so overcome at your sister's handsome face, as I am astonished at Isabel's neglect of her long-absent husband," replied Mr. Boscawen, smiling. Isabel flew towards him.
"I can't think how I came to be so wicked; but, indeed, it was the sight of my sister's face. My dear Boscawen, I have so longed for your return, and so have the children! I was obliged to tell the dear things papa was gone a long way off, for some cakes and their pretty aunt, or they would not have been comforted. I did not know what hour you would arrive, therefore I was wise enough not to say a word to them about it."