"Oh! if you go, Sir John, all will be well. I shall hear the truth from you, and you will find how unchanged dear Julia is. Tell her, from me, that my love and gratitude is unchangeable, and that my home is her home for ever and ever. Tell her I care not for her silence, because it is not _her_ doing; and though we may never more meet, she will be Julia Wetheral, as freshly and fondly my friend, as when she married a man who could not deserve her. Tell her this from me, Sir John." Miss Wycherly passed on with her lover, and the Wetherals entered their carriage in silence. Sir John sighed heavily, and did not enter into any conversation with his daughter during their drive home: doubtless there was bitterness in his thoughts. Christobelle lost all painful recollections of the emotion caused by Mrs. Pynsent's conversation, in pleasing remembrance of the pleasures of the day. She had enjoyed herself with the pure, unalloyed happiness which attends youth, ere it is pursued by care, and before it endures disappointment. She considered that day as the very happiest portion of her life. She had been kindly and hospitably welcomed by every one, and not a word of reproach or disgust had been levelled at her. Every one seemed delighted to see her eat and dance, to her heart's content. Nothing could surpass the pleasure of that day--nothing had ever equalled it! Sir John parted with his daughter in the hall. He kissed her, as usual, but his voice was melancholy, and the parting short. "Good night, my love--I am going to my study." "Good night, dear papa!" Sir John turned away, and Christobelle listened to his step, as it echoed through the hall, till he closed the chapel-door behind him. She then retired to her own room, and slept soundly, in spite of anticipations of lectures from her mother upon supposed improprieties committed at Hatton. CHAPTER XVII. Lady Wetheral was extremely disconcerted by the knowledge of Mrs. Pynsent's intended visit for the day. The hour of breakfast passed slowly and miserably to Christobelle, who bore the whole burden of her petulance, and gave offence by the silence with which she hoped to dispel her irritability. "She was not at all like her other girls. Clara was warm in her temper, but she had always something sharp or witty to say. Christobelle was the dullest creature she had ever been doomed to sit in company with. Thompson was a great loss, poor dear silly woman; the best creature in the world, and the greatest fool for marrying a man who could not settle something upon her. If Christobelle would have the kindness to inform her how Clara looked, she would be extremely obliged by the information. Perhaps that was a subject on which she might condescend to speak." Christobelle told her mother all she had seen and heard; and how fearful she was, that another dispute had arisen between the Kerrisons, which would increase Clara's violence. Lady Wetheral smiled incredulously.