"Your poor father's violence has made me seriously ill, Bell, and he must lay my death at his own door. Sir Foster has been extremely ill used, and all the neighbourhood will think so, after his proposal being accepted, and his attachment made so public! My poor child Clara! it is very cruel by her, and the affair has broken my heart." There was again a pause, so continued, that Christobelle believed her mother slept; at last she heard her name pronounced. "Bell." "Yes, mamma, I am close to you." "Perhaps, Bell, as you have influence with your father, you can find out his intentions with respect to Sir Foster. I can't think he would break off such a match, but I am too unwell to enter upon the subject with him now. Go down, Bell, and manage your father, as I used to do, only bring me some intelligence." "Shall I ask the question for you, mamma?" "Don't be stupid, Bell; ask questions? Nonsense! You will never get the truth from man by a direct question, foolish child. You know what I mean; now go and glean his intentions with cleverness; it will be practice for you; there, no reply, Bell; no sentimentality; I detest it!" Christobelle left the room, not quite comprehending her mother's words. She could not understand the "gleaning," neither did she know the meaning of the word "sentimentality," but she went to her father's study, and found him in his arm-chair, the candles standing before him unsnuffed. It was nearly twelve o'clock when she entered. Her father held out his hand, and drew her to him. "You are still up, my child, and it is very late." She told him her mother had slept long, and was very anxious to know whether he really intended to quit Wetheral. "Your mamma sent you to inquire, my love?" She hesitated. "No, papa, not to inquire; mamma forbade my asking questions." "What _were_ you to do, then, Chrystal, since your mother wished to know my sentiments?" Christobelle hesitated again. She was not prepared for this close investigation. "Chrystal, whenever you speak, let it be strictly in truth, and with open-heartedness; God and your father, my child, hate insincerity, and untrue lips; speak without fear, and without evasion. What is this all about?" Christobelle became alarmed at her father's grave observation, and lost all presence of mind; she repeated at once her mother's injunction. "Papa, I was told to glean your intentions, without sentimentality, that was all; only I don't know what 'glean' means." "Go to bed, now, my dear child, and I will visit your mother," said her father, in a melancholy tone of voice, which surprised her. "You and I have a journey before us, Chrystal; the day after to-morrow we shall set out for Brierly; you will be useful to Isabel, and improved by Boscawen's society and tastes. Good night, and go to your bed, my love."