"We have forgotten its proper designation, and even its existence," replied Lady Wetheral, smilingly; "I am only anxious my daughter should not undertake too much fatigue. I fear her efforts in trying to promote amusement for our guest, Sir John Spottiswoode, have overcome her strength." "Miss Wetheral shall not suffer from efforts of any kind this morning. My lord, take possession of your fair cargo, but reserve the seat of honour for our young friend." Christobelle clung to her father's arm, but Miss Ponsonby did not observe the movement. "Sir John Wetheral, you are my property; you must relinquish your fair daughter." "Are we not admissable together, Miss Ponsonby?" "I will have no rival--yes, I change my mind; I will have Miss Wetheral for my Eucharis, and be myself Calypso, instead of Ellen Douglas. Where shall I find a Telemachus?" "Sir John Spottiswoode," answered Lord Farnborough. "No, I hate a flirting Telemachus--he is saying sugared sentences to Fanny." "Mortimer Grey," rejoined his lordship. "Nonsense, Telemachus with a hare-lip?--now, out upon you! Miss Wetheral, you are mine, and you are Eucharis. I steal you from my lord." "I cannot resign my fair assignment--racks and tortures shall not extort my consent," replied Lord Farnborough. Captain Ponsonby came up. "What are we waiting for? Your boat is filling, Mary--we must not delay. Miss Wetheral, are you of our party? allow me to lead you to the boat." "Miss Wetheral is mine," cried Lord Farnborough, "and I give her to no mortal." "It is a freight worth contending for, Farnborough: state your claims." "The lady's own fair word, Ponsonby." "I will hear it from her own lips. Miss Wetheral, Genius of the Lake, as they truly style you...." "I dispute the title," exclaimed Miss Ponsonby. "I have also adopted the costume, and I choose to share the distinction." "Unfortunate Mary!--name fatal to peace upon Lochleven, be still. Does Miss Wetheral consign herself wholly and solely to Lord Farnborough?" "I wish to go with my father," eagerly replied Christobelle. Lord Farnborough bowed proudly and coldly. Captain Ponsonby waved his hat in the air. "Hurrah for Miss Wetheral and independence! For once, my lord, you are refused--checked in your high careering. Miss Wetheral, will you give your fair hand to a portionless son?" Captain Ponsonby held out his arm to escort her to his vessel, but Christobelle's hand was taken gently yet firmly by her mother. "My dear daughter thanks you, gentlemen, for your polite and amusingly-agreeable knight-errantry. Captain Ponsonby, however, is only unsuccessful from being too late. I believe honour is a treasure too delicate to endure a breath of reproach, and we are pledged to my Lord Farnborough." "Then, 'soft ideas fly,'" said Captain Ponsonby, laying his hand upon his heart.