"God bless me!" cried Boscawen, "it is indeed our friend from the north, and I must stop him, or he will never condescend to look at us." He put his head out of the carriage-window, and waved his hand: Sir John Spottiswoode heeded not the movement. He was riding rapidly by, and would have passed with a slight inclination of the head, had not Christobelle caught his eye. His handsome face glowed with surprise and delight, while her own feelings, so very suddenly called into action, completely took away her powers of speech. She could only hold out her hand, as he checked his horse, and wheeled round to the window, but it was pressed _so_ fondly--and he looked _so_ bright and happy! "Why, Spottiswoode, what fair lady are you scampering after, that you nearly passed by _us_?" exclaimed Boscawen, shaking him by the hand. "Never mind, I am going to turn back with you. Indeed, I was galloping to Shrewsbury, to get upon the coach for Brierly. I only arrived this morning." "My _mother_, Spottiswoode," uttered Christobelle, in alarm--"how is my mother?" "On her road to Wetheral, by short stages; I am but their _avant courier_, Chrystal. I have brought a letter for you. You will now, perhaps, offer me a seat in your carriage to Brierly, when you return. My brother said nothing about your visit--do they expect you?" "No, I am making a tour with my young sister--but let us reach Lidham before we enter into particulars." The carriage moved on, and Spottiswoode rode by its side. How unexpected was this meeting, and how busy were Christobelle's thoughts, conjecturing upon the motive of her mother's early journey! If it had but a happy reference towards herself, how would her cup of joy be filled! but, no, her mother never forgave an offence like hers! Christobelle was prepared to meet astonishment at Lidham, as she had found it every where else, since her return into Shropshire, and she was not deceived. Mrs. Charles Spottiswoode held her from her at arm's length, as she examined her person and growth. "My dear little Bell, is this really and truly yourself? I have heard of you from persons whom I did not consider altogether unprejudiced in their accounts; but, indeed, I now see it with my own eyes! John, you have not said half enough of this creature. I recognise her eyes--those large eyes--but these ringlets--that figure--no, John, upon my honour, you did not do her justice!" Spottiswoode stood by Christobelle, and his eyes flashed a proud satisfaction at the remarks of his sister-in-law. "But, Charles, Charles," she continued, "tell me if _you_ could recognise Bell Wetheral in this grand creature! tell me if it is not a vision, for I cannot think I really see the prim little Bell, always poring over books, and diving out of her father's study with a little shock head, like my terrier Tarter!"