Miss Wycherly was eager to break up the conference, and she played country-dances with great spirit: five couple were therefore soon arranged, and Christobelle was led forth by Charles Spottiswoode. When they reached the termination of the set, Mr. Spottiswoode addressed his partner with an air of mystery, and inquired, in low tones, if she had lately heard of or from Bedinfield. Christobelle could give no satisfactory intelligence. A letter had certainly been received at Wetheral lately, but she had not been made acquainted with its contents. Mr. Spottiswoode's reply was very complimentary to Christobelle: she felt it exquisitely. "Miss Wetheral, I address you as no common person; and I feel assured a young lady, who has been the companion of Sir John Wetheral, must be prudent beyond her years. Penelope has never received any reply to several letters addressed to Lady Ennismore, and I am anxious to understand the cause. Your sister is not ill, I hope?" Christobelle was unable to answer even that simple question; she knew nothing, and had heard nothing with reference to the Ennismores. "It is very extraordinary!" was Mr. Spottiswoode's quick reply, but nothing more was said, for they were again indefatigably engaged in dancing, till eleven o'clock, when Sir John Wetheral approached his daughter, and advised her to rest till the carriage was announced. As she seated herself, according to his wish, Christobelle heard Mrs. Pynsent speaking to Mrs. Tyndal with some vehemence. "Upon my word, there will be a dreadful blow-up soon: I went to see Sally Hancock into the pony-carriage, and who should be in the hall but those two people abusing each other. That matchmaking woman has a thousand sins to answer for: she will pay for all this, Jane Tyndal, in the next world!" Christobelle felt assured the Kerrisons were the party in question. Her eyes sought them, but they were not in either of the drawing-rooms. She turned to Mrs. Pynsent in terror, and inquired for Clara. "Oh! my dear, they have killed each other by this time, as far as intentions can go. They were fighting in the hall half an hour ago." Christobelle turned pale with distress, and Mrs. Pynsent, whose heart was as kind as her manners and address were abrupt, pitied her sufferings. She put her hand gently upon Christobelle's shoulder, and spoke with emphasis. "_You_ can't help it, my poor girl; _you_ need not vex yourself: it will all come home to the right person, but that won't be you. Only take care you are not the next sacrifice, and sell yourself for money at people's bidding." "Oh! Mrs. Pynsent," cried Christobelle, "Where is papa?"