"I am very happy in my present situation," replied Captain Ponsonby; "I am attending upon Miss Wetheral." "But the Greys are quite by themselves, Ponsonby; do go down, and offer your services there." "Miss Wetheral, you are wishing for a slice of cold turkey; I saw you contemplating it," observed Captain Ponsonby, who took no notice of his friend's speech. "I fly for it." "I wish Ponsonby would attend to the Greys," said his lordship, as Captain Ponsonby quitted his station. "I shall be most happy to attend upon you and Miss Quintin." The eyes of Christobelle were riveted in the direction of the turkey, as Captain Ponsonby remarked; for there sat Sir John Spottiswoode, and Fanny Ponsonby was at his side: she tried to withdraw her eyes, but they were fixed by leaden weights, and she gazed on. She saw Sir John Spottiswoode turn to ask Captain Ponsonby whom he should assist to a slice of the breast; and when Miss Wetheral's name was mentioned, he did not look towards her; he turned and spoke to Fanny Ponsonby. Christobelle would not allow the tears to rush from their fountains, or a sigh to escape from her heart, however pained were her feelings. She only resolved never again to walk as she had done with Sir John Spottiswoode, never again to feel for him those kind and friendly sentiments which he knew not how to appreciate. Captain Ponsonby returned laughing from his mission. "I wish you could hear Fanny and your handsome friend, Miss Wetheral. They are trying which shall make the most glaring compliment to each other. I left your friend talking about the heart of a lover, which made Fanny grave. Do look at her, now." Christobelle glanced towards his sister; her sprightly countenance had faded into deep attention, as Sir John Spottiswoode spoke earnestly; her glowing complexion had changed its bloom, and was become pale. Christobelle would have given worlds to have been acquainted with their subject. "Ponsonby, you are devilish rude; no one has taken wine with the Greys," exclaimed Lord Farnborough, as his friend resumed his station behind the chair of Christobelle. "Ponsonby," cried Mr. Grey, "are you under orders there, that you stand sentinel over Miss Wetheral?" "I wish the guard was relieved, Grey," said Lord Farnborough. "Beg your sisters to send a deputation to Ponsonby." "They would prefer your lordship," answered Mr. Grey. "I speak in their names, because they decline the publicity of confession." Lord Farnborough's countenance again became gloomy, but he made no reply to Mr. Grey. His lordship turned to Christobelle. "Miss Wetheral, allow me the pleasure of drinking wine with you."