"Bell, is that you?" Christobelle found her ladyship seated in a lounging chair, employed with her knotting. She looked up. "I thought I recognized your step, my love; the fairy step, as Lord Farnborough calls it. I wish you to remain entirely in the grounds, Bell; indeed, I wish you not to quit the house this morning. Stay with me, and wind these silks; they plague and impede my work." "I am only going to the cliff, mamma: if any body comes, you will be so good as to send for me, perhaps." "My love, I cannot send the whole establishment in different directions for you, upon all occasions. Your walks become a serious evil." "I will remain on the terrace, then, mamma: I have promised to join Sir John Spottiswoode." "I do not approve of such daily walks, Bell--such wild roaming over the hills. I wish you to wind these obdurate skeins for me: you forget caution and propriety. I insist upon your avoidance of Sir John Spottiswoode this morning. Lord Farnborough must not always find you appropriated." Sir John Spottiswoode appeared at the window which opened upon the terrace at this moment. Lady Wetheral kissed her hand to him, and he entered. "My dear Spottiswoode, assist me to persuade my restive daughter that so much exercise is hurtful. I wish her to remain with me this morning." "The day is so beautiful, Lady Wetheral, and the air so reviving!" he observed. "I am sure this fresh breeze will exhilarate her, and bring the roses into her cheeks." Her ladyship raised her glass to her eye, and slightly examined her daughter's countenance. "Bell, my love, your bloom is less vivid, but I think I prefer the delicacy of its present tone. I have very essential reasons for wishing you to remain with me this morning. I feel languid and unwell--very languid after the fatigues of yesterday." Lady Wetheral's voice grew fainter as she uttered the last sentence: and she sank back in her chair, in an attitude of languor. "My love, pray wind those skeins for me. I am a poor creature, you see." It was useless to contend: Christobelle's destined walk must give way to her mother's quiet determination that she should not become conspicuous with Sir John Spottiswoode, and it was her duty to yield to her wishes. Christobelle relinquished, therefore, all hopes of a _tête-à-tête_ with her lover, and prepared to obey her commands, by occupying herself with the silks. She had not courage to meet the disappointed eye of her companion, nor indeed did she wish him to discover, by the expression of her own orbs, how severely she suffered by her obedience.