"But, stay," he added, detaining the hand she would have withdrawn, "stay one moment, while I examine this entanglement." Sir John Spottiswoode bent forward to conceal his movement and Christobelle's confusion from Lady Wetheral's notice. "This is rather a puzzling affair at this moment, Miss Wetheral, but we must succeed in time by mutual perseverance--if you are calm, and I am near you, to offer counsel. Do you perfectly understand me?" "I believe I do. I am to be calm, and try to unravel this puzzling work in patience. I quite understand you, and I will try to do so." "When did my pupil ever misunderstand my words?" he replied, with energy; and, forgetful of his own cautions and Lady Wetheral's presence, he caught Christobelle's hand to his lips. She was terrified at the action, but her mother had little time to express her indignation, for the door was suddenly thrown open, and the servant announced Lord Farnborough. His lordship entered with a heated and raised complexion, and he attentively surveyed the apartment, as he spoke. "So I am before him at last. I thought I should find the fox in his earth, for he was off an hour ago: this is capital." "My dear lord, you are most welcome. This is really a neighbourly action." Lady Wetheral rose promptly from her languid repose, and received her visitor with bright smiles of pleasure. Lord Farnborough recollected himself, and recovered his self-possession, as he paid his _devoirs_ to the party. "I fear I came in rather hastily, Lady Wetheral; but you will excuse my eager manner, when you learn its motive. I thought Ponsonby had been before me. We have had a race for it, I assure you." "Captain Ponsonby has not called, I believe," replied Lady Wetheral, in tones of mingled triumph and hope, "unless he is closeted with my husband." "Ha!" exclaimed his lordship, "then he has preceded me? Lady Wetheral, allow me an immediate conference, if you please." "Certainly, my lord; we will retire into my own sitting-room." "Here, if you please, for time is very precious. Will you allow me to lead you upon the terrace, Lady Wetheral? You must excuse my impetuosity." Lady Wetheral accepted Lord Farnborough's offered arm, and she was hurried upon the terrace; but not a glance or movement on her part betokened fatigue, or a remnant of her past languor. Her step was firm, and her eyes beamed with expected triumph. "Chrystal, my own Chrystal," cried Sir John Spottiswoode, as the receding figures were lost to sight, "if ever I loved and admired you more truly and fondly than I fancied I could do, it was at the moment you renounced your plans to obey a parent, with a smile on your lip, and regret in your dear heart." "But my real misery is yet to come," exclaimed Christobelle, though she felt herself pressed to the warm heart of her lover, and there was blessedness in the pressure. "But why so?" he asked tenderly; "what has Chrystal to fear?"