Lady Wetheral retired, and left Christobelle again in silence and in darkness. She could not sleep. The night passed _so_ slowly, as she lay revolving all these things in her mind! When she was happy, her nights flew by, and she rose refreshed; but now the hours lagged heavily, and her waking thoughts were upon the departure of Sir John Spottiswoode, and the introduction of Lord Farnborough in his place. She did not rise refreshed. She was tired and unhappy when she descended into the breakfast-room. Sir John Spottiswoode was there alone; and, as he paid the compliments of the morning, his voice was thick, and sounded hoarse. Christobelle was sure he had caught cold upon the water, and it was to protect her that he exposed himself to wet, and had thrown off his cloak. She was overcome by the recollection, and, though she approached him timidly, she was in anxious fear lest he should suffer by his attention. His hand was heated as it touched hers in salutation, and she held it in alarm. "Oh, you are feverish and ill, and you have caught cold by giving me your cloak! What can I do for you?" "I have a little headache and sore throat," he replied, smiling; "but it will pass away, I hope, in the course of the day." "It was that cloak," replied Christobelle, quite absorbed with fear, and totally forgetful that her hand was still held by him--"it was that cloak which you took off so suddenly, against my wishes. I was sure you would be ill!" "I am not ill," he answered, feelingly: "your kind sympathy has cured me; but let me observe _your_ pale cheeks in return, and let me mourn over _them_." Sir John Spottiswoode led her to the window, and looked so kindly at her, that tears sprang into her eyes. "Here are tokens of a restless night," he said--"here are signs of sleepless hours, and heavy thoughts, my dear pupil. Would I could calm your gentle heart!" "Then stay at Fairlee!" she exclaimed, as she wept without control, and cared not for the consequences of her indiscreet words--"stay at Fairlee, and be as kind as you used to be!" Christobelle felt the arm of her companion drawn round her, and she was pressed to his heart, as he replied.-- "I _will_ remain, dearest pupil, I _will_ remain at Fairlee, whatever pain it may cost me! I will do whatever you bid me do, to give you pleasure. God forbid _I_ should ever give you a moment's sorrow! I would sooner suffer a thousand pangs, than see you weep one moment. Why do you weep, and distress my heart?" Christobelle could not help it. Was it, indeed, painful to remain at Fairlee? Captain Ponsonby was right, then, in his suggestion--there _was_ a lady in the south! She could not reply; a suffocating sensation precluded all speech.