Christobelle did make an effort to shake off the bonds which seemed to bind her spirits with links of iron. She turned from the contemplation of Sir John Spottiswoode and Fanny Ponsonby, but they rose before her like the undying Hydra. She saw them, in imagination, engaged in agreeable conversation--the beautiful eyes of Fanny Ponsonby fixed upon her companion's face, and her mind informed by his remarks. Christobelle saw him, in fancy, fascinated by her loveliness--eager to please--absorbed--forgetful of their own pleasant walks together--their readings--their long and happy pauses on the terrace, watching the last beams of the summer sun. She started with terror. "My dear Bell, you are not alarmed?" exclaimed her mother. "Lord Farnborough is kind enough to take the helm." Captain Ponsonby smiled. "What! the Genius of the Lake alarmed upon her own element? Forbid it, storms and clouds!" "Miss Wetheral, you would feel more undisturbed if you were at my _left_ hand," whispered Lord Farnborough. "Indeed, Miss Wetheral would deceive herself, if she looked for rest near _you_, Farnborough: I will not part with my supporters. Miss Wetheral, do not be inveigled away from me. No whispering, unless it is allowed to all, if you please." "You were pointing north this morning, Ponsonby; and now the wind sits easterly." "East, west--alas! I care not whither, So thou art safe, and I with thee!" exclaimed Captain Ponsonby, turning towards Christobelle, with a smile. Lord Farnborough became silent and sullen. A deep gloom spread over his handsome face, and its bland expression faded. Lord Farnborough wore a countenance, which Christobelle could never have recognised as the agreeable set of features which first pleased her at Lochleven. His lordship turned with indignant pride from his friend, and gave his attention to the Miss Quintins. "Bell!" whispered Lady Wetheral, as Captain Ponsonby again stooped forward, to adjust his cloak, "you will lose him." "Lose him!" thought Christobelle--"yes, I have lost him--for is he not uttering 'sugared sentences' to Fanny Ponsonby?--and is he not regardless of his old acquaintance? How easy it is to sit in happy, careless tranquillity, when no cloud veils our hopes! How happy was I, till the Clanmoray party broke through the seclusion of Fairlee, and brought a Fanny Ponsonby between me and my peace! How happy was I in my freedom, roving amid the groves of Fairlee, before Sir John Spottiswoode arrived, to teach me the glow of friendship, and then to withdraw its light!" Ill, unhappy, and indifferent to the scenery, which was her former object of devotion, Christobelle heeded not the sullen silence of Lord Farnborough, or the fears of her mother. The little attention she could spare from the conjurations of her wretched fancy, Christobelle gave to the gay and kind-hearted Ponsonby. CHAPTER XXV.