"How could you think so, Spottiswoode?" "Lady Wetheral's words were in my ears, Chrystal, and I had relinquished all hope for myself." "What a day of misery it was to me!" Christobelle exclaimed, as she thought of all she had endured. "Fanny Ponsonby's feelings were all echoed by my own." "It was a painful day to many, Chrystal; but to us it has proved a blessing, for it confessed our sentiments at once, and prepared the way for our mutual understanding. Had you not expressed disapprobation of Lord Farnborough, I had not dared to tell my feelings. Was it not a blessing, my love?" "But poor Fanny Ponsonby, what will be _her_ destiny?" Christobelle asked, as she returned the pressure of Spottiswoode's hand. "What will be her fate in her attachment?" "Miss Ponsonby has sown her seed among thorns," he replied, with feeling, "and her heart must wrestle with its feelings, unless she becomes his wife. Lord Farnborough may turn to Miss Ponsonby, since you have rejected him, and she may become the envied Lady Farnborough; but she will only sink into a neglected wife. He cannot make a woman happy." "Oh! if I had seen him with my mother's eyes, and fallen a sacrifice!" observed Christobelle, with a shudder. "I should have quitted England, Chrystal. I would not have witnessed your misery, or remained within hearing of your gradual decay. You could not long live under his harsh treatment, and I could not have borne to hear the world remark upon your pale cheek and faded form." "How grateful I am! how happy I ought to be, Spottiswoode! When you come to see me at Brierly, and I do not suffer daily under my mother's angry prohibition, you will find me so changed and happy! When I think of Lord Farnborough, I turn to you with such grateful delight! Yes, Spottiswoode, I _will_ be happy!"