Sir John Spottiswoode was silent under the existing order of things, and forbore to offer an opinion upon its unfitness; but he quietly assisted Christobelle's operations, and held the skeins for her better convenience in winding them. The whole affair arranged itself in such perfect pantomime, that she could not resist a smile and glance at her assistant, which amply repaid her self-control. An expression of gratified happiness played upon his manly countenance, and lighted up his eyes, which communicated itself to Christobelle's heart, and caused intense gratitude for the blessing conferred upon her in the gift of his affections. She felt that she could meet her mother's opposition, her irony, her bitterness, with patience, since she had won all that seemed valuable upon earth--all that was excellent, and affectionate, and kind--the heart of Sir John Spottiswoode. She had received the blessing too, at the very moment when her fears believed him indifferent to her love: and when she suffered the pangs of jealousy, elicited by Fanny Ponsonby, and continued by the surmise of Captain Ponsonby; yet it was a change so suddenly effected, that she could scarcely believe in its reality. Her lover knelt before her, holding the extended skein, yet she could not place faith in the certainty that all was not a dream: she heard her mother speak, and yet it appeared a vision, from which, she trusted, she might never wake. "My dear Spottiswoode, you are Hercules with the distaff." "I have made my choice too, like Hercules, Lady Wetheral. I have selected virtue, and I find I have also gained pleasure, for they are seldom separate, after all. Pleasure does not include virtue always: but virtue rarely moves without pleasure; I find it so now. I am virtuously employed, and it is my greatest pleasure. I have great pleasure in assisting your labours, Lady Wetheral." "You appear to great advantage, Spottiswoode; but I hope you are not making a pain of pleasure. Bell has already broken her thread twice." "Miss Wetheral is all kindness; she bears with my awkward attempts to be useful. I know I am very trying to her patience. Another thread broken! My dear Miss Wetheral, be calm." "I believe I must relinquish it, for a few moments," Christobelle observed; "my hands are so tremulous." "I am going to lecture you, Miss Wetheral, to spare your mamma the trouble of pronouncing an exhortation in her languid state. Pray, make another trial, and hold your hand steadily--_so_." Sir John Spottiswoode pressed her hand affectionately, and held it as he continued--"Now, my dear pupil, you must try to feel tranquil, and be assured all efforts succeed, if they are made with perseverance." "Very well," said Christobelle, laughingly; "my next effort shall be boldly made."