"My dear John, the Duke of Forfar called this morning." Christobelle's colour rose, and her quick eye detected the little emotion. "I was gratified by the call: his Grace looked remarkably well, and Lady Anna Herbert as sprightly as usual. Four years have rolled by, and left their 'flowing hair' unthinned. Lady Anna looks quite as youthful as she did when a '_belle confessed_,' at your mother's balls, Sir John Spottiswoode." "She was a very fine girl, and an excellent flirt," remarked Sir John. "Charles and Lady Anna were great friends some years ago." "I was very much pleased with Lord Farnborough," continued Lady Wetheral, addressing her husband, and passing her eyes slightly over Christobelle. "Lord Farnborough accompanied his party, and I have not seen such a finished gentleman many years." Sir John Spottiswoode made no remark; and Christobelle was silent. Sir John Wetheral asked if the great boy had grown into a fine-looking youth? "I set Lord Farnborough down as decidedly handsome at the first glance, my love; but I forgot his beauty in his very finished manners." Sir John made no further remark, and there was a short pause, till Lady Wetheral resumed-- "Lord Farnborough spoke with polite pleasure of his introduction to my daughter yesterday; and he brought a note from Miss Ponsonby, requesting us to join a party next Tuesday to St. Mungo's Isle. You were included, Sir John, when our friends learned you were at Fairlee." Sir John Spottiswoode bowed. "It is to be an early party, and there were sundry messages delivered which my poor head could not contain; but Lord Farnborough will call again with more ample instructions. I told him it was cruel to load my memory with such matter." "Do the Forfar party continue long at Clanmoray," said Sir John Spottiswoode, some moments after the subject had dropped. "I believe so," was Lady Wetheral's reply; "indeed, Lord Farnborough mentioned his own protracted stay, when the rest left for Farnborough Stacy. I forget when _they_ depart." "Perhaps there is attractive metal in Miss Fanny Ponsonby," observed Sir John Wetheral. "There is attraction somewhere," replied his lady, "for there was a lover's touch in his description of Lochleven, and in his anxiety for the party to St. Mungo's Isle." "Allow me the pleasure of taking wine with you, Miss Wetheral," said Sir John Spottiswoode, bending forward. The subject again dropped. The half hour's interregnum after dinner, was passed in lectures on Lady Wetheral's part. The ladies had scarcely entered the drawing-room, when Christobelle's attention was again required upon the subject so painfully argued in the morning. "I wish to try your narrow capacity once more, Bell, and to ascertain whether you really possess one spark of that wholesome ambition which dignifies a woman of birth."