Christobelle

“ The hour of breakfast passed slowly and miserably to Christobelle, who bore the whole burden of her petulance, and gave offence by the silence with which she hoped to dispel her irritability. "She was not at all like her other girls. Clara was warm in her temper, but she had always something sharp or witty to say. Christobelle was the dullest creature she had ever been doomed to sit in company with. Thompson was a great loss, poor dear silly woman; the best creature in the world, and the greatest fool for marrying a man who could not settle something upon her. ”

“ It was after the luckless elopement of Clara, that she was hurried to Wetheral, to be the companion of her mother, under circumstances most annoying to herself, connected with the very marriage she had promoted so anxiously. Christobelle was now herself the object of her anger, for declining to enter into an engagement, hateful to her heart and principles! How and when would her mother's soul be divested of its ambitious worldly anxieties?
Christobelle's reception at Hatton was gratifying to her feelings in the highest degree. She was surrounded by affectionate greetings and congratulations. ”

“ Christobelle would cheerfully have contributed to her parent's comfort, had her wishes extended to less than the sacrifice of all happiness; but surely it was not reprehensible to withhold a shadow of hope, when her heart was not with Lord Farnborough! Surely it was not right to turn from the man she loved, when her affections were his beyond the power of recal, and when the voice of ambition alone demanded it! ”

“ Luckily, Christobelle was ranked among her favourites at her first visit.
"You young thing, so you are come to Hatton, are you? Shake hands. I shall like you, because you showed a good feeling about your dare-devil sister Kerrison, some time ago. I like warm-hearted people, without nonsense and pride—here's a welcome to you, you great, tall, good-looking thing." Mrs. Pynsent wrung her hand with a good will, which gave severe pain. Christobelle tried to smile. ”

“ Christobelle shuddered at the thought; but the encircling arms of her [166] lover restrained the movement which impelled her to start from her chair.
"I was assured your heart was on the point of acknowledging Lord Farnborough's power, Chrystal—and your mother spoke in terms of proud approval."
"Oh, my mother, my mother!" exclaimed Christobelle, weeping at the thought of her cruel policy; "I might have been sacrificed for ever to your ambitious wishes! I should have been given in utter wretchedness to a man I did not love, and consigned to hopeless misery!" ”

“ How could she alarm her husband's nice perceptions in conversation, when all her thoughts rested in one absorbing interest—on one dear and mutual object of earthly pleasure?
Christobelle was happiest of the happy at Brierly. Mr. Boscawen had always something pointed in his remarks which attracted her admiration; and if Isabel could not withdraw her attention from her new and delightful occupation, Christobelle was ready to profit by her husband's extensive reading; to listen with eagerness to his details; and enjoy his animating [66] comments upon men and books. ”

“ You will rejoice your friends, and be rejoiced in meeting them. I shall also rejoice, in the knowledge of your happiness. Our thoughts will meet often and often in our absence; and then, my Chrystal, we shall meet again in peace. I cannot and will not remain a week absent from you."
Christobelle smiled again to think their separation was not eternal. ”

“ There were repeated and long pauses, which she could not break, and Sir John Spottiswoode appeared to covet. They sat one morning in their rocky seat, without exchanging a single word, till Sir John suddenly exclaimed,—
"This is, indeed, perfect happiness."
Christobelle smiled.
"We are silent adorers of Nature; but our feelings are not the less sincere."
"Powerful admiration is in the heart, not upon the lips," replied her companion, sighing.
"Yet we admired the scene as fervently when we chatted and sang upon the lake," observed Christobelle. ”

“ She could not win one smile, or obtain one remark from her friend. His eye appeared heavy, and Christobelle fancied he must suffer from concealed illness, otherwise he would have caught the infection of her spirits. The thought of Sir John Spottiswoode suffering sobered her vivacity. She became grave, and gradually even sad, to witness his dejection. Christobelle approached him when they rose from the breakfast-table; her mother had quitted the breakfast-room, and she feared no misconstruction of her anxiety.
"I know you are ill. I am sure you are unfit to join a party full of mirth." ”

“ Lovers' happiness is composed of a million nothings, and every indescribable rapture, which in after days provoke the laughter and ridicule of its votaries. All those who have loved understand it well—and to those who have never known a sincere attachment, it is a sealed book. Christobelle utterly forgot all mundane concerns, as she listened to the fond effusions of her lover's heart, and owned an affection deep and imperious as his own. ”

“ I know I have so much to endure from my mother!"
"But you are mine, Chrystal; and who can take you from me now? Are you not my own, my very own?"
"I know it: I feel secure of you; but my mother will say such harsh things!"
"Fear not, my beloved. If we are true to each other, surely we can endure a little trial of patience."
Yes, he spoke truly. Christobelle could endure a long, long trial for his love. She could suffer a protracted misery, to deserve a heart so excellent. ”

“ She went to her room, and slept soundly, innocent of wrong, and ignorant of the scene which took place in her mother's room, in consequence of her unfortunate disclosure. Christobelle was summoned to Lady Wetheral's bed-side after breakfast; Clara was seated reading near the window, and a small table covered with essence-bottles told her at a glance there had been strife. Christobelle was accosted with much irony.
"Peacemakers are desirable people, Bell, and, doubtless, your heart is enjoying the harmony you have created; pray advance, and behold your delightful work. ”

“ Christobelle was delighted with the polite tact of her manners, as she directed her conversation from John to herself. It is assuredly a great gift to possess that polite ease, and well-directed attention, which gives a flattering unction to the vanity of all who receive its plastic touch. It is the wand of a fairy which turns words into the pearls and diamonds of the little tale—which does so delightfully
"Wash, and comb, and lay us down softly."
No one could exceed Lady Ennismore in that [254] most fascinating, most dangerous gift of attraction. ”

“ I left your friend talking about the heart of a lover, which made Fanny grave. Do look at her, now." Christobelle glanced towards his sister; her sprightly countenance had faded into deep attention, as Sir John Spottiswoode spoke earnestly; her glowing complexion had changed its bloom, and was become pale. Christobelle would have given worlds to have been acquainted with their subject.
"Ponsonby, you are devilish rude; no one has taken wine with the Greys," exclaimed Lord [112] Farnborough, as his friend resumed his station behind the chair of Christobelle. ”

“ If her father was no more, who besides Isabel would cherish his companion, and love her as he had done? Who would save her from her mother's irony, and soothe her increasing irritability towards her? Christobelle became wild with the idea of his early death, and, clasping her hands, cried, "Oh! dearest papa, don't talk so—don't frighten me, and promise not to leave me."
"Nay, Chrystal," he replied, soothingly, "do not alarm yourself; I am here in present health; and I trust, for some years to come, to be allowed [109] to watch over you. ”

“ Christobelle was to beware of the sun and of the dew. It was ruinous to the complexion to sit staring for hours in a hot sun upon nonsensical views, and still worse, to roam about with a plaid round her shoulders, and a hat swinging to her arm, like a low-lived Scotch girl. Lochleven produced much gaiety in the autumn, [5] as many families thronged to visit lake scenery; she would therefore feel obliged by Miss Chrystal paying a little more attention to her person, that she might not be recognized as Lady Wetheral's very vulgar daughter, or give occasion of remark to General Ponsonby's family. ”

“ Each attempt to argue away their violence did but increase the evil. Nothing could induce her ladyship to receive Christobelle at her bed-side, or hear a word pleaded in her defence. Christobelle's attachment to Sir John Spottiswoode, and her subsequent refusal to accept Lord Farnborough's proposal, appeared to destroy the ties of affection which had never been closely woven together, for his ladyship declared her daughter's presence would kill her upon the spot. The sad event which occasioned her flight from England, faded under the shock of Lord Farnborough's dismissal. ”

“ Christobelle received no letter from Lady Wetheral, but her father wrote to her of all he suffered; and he said, his happiest moments were passed in contemplating her prospects. His Chrystal was given to a man who would value the blessing conferred upon him. She would be the wife of a good man—a wife as happy as Isabel, or as Anna Maria proved to be—a wife whose hopes were anchored upon high principle [248] and religious feeling, and who, therefore, would not be called upon to endure the undying torments of self-reproach. ”

“ The silence [23] was unbroken for some time, as they crossed the slumbering lake; but Lord Farnborough, at last, broke the stillness of the scene by asking Christobelle if she amused herself in sketching the lovely views on either side Lochleven. From this question, answered in the affirmative, they entered upon the subject of painting, which gradually led to its sister art—poetry; and Christobelle was delighted to know that when they visited St. Mungo's Isle, she would judge of his progress in both departments. They were both to go provided with drawing materials ”

“ Christobelle conferred with Boscawen upon the contents of her father's letter. Since he wished her to be at Wetheral when he arrived, she thought she had better not return to Brierly. They might travel more rapidly than was anticipated. Lady Wetheral might feel more equal to the journey than she imagined, and Christobelle might be at Brierly the moment they reached Wetheral. She felt she would prefer returning to Wetheral from Lidham; and Isabel would understand the circumstances, which left her no power to act otherwise. She would return to Brierly at a future time. ”

“ Christobelle forgot her mother—she forgot Lord Farnborough; she thought not of his errand, or her future anger. She was in a trance:—she thought all reproach—all suffering—all unkindness, had no further power to wound, for she belonged to her lover, and he would shelter her, as he did at that moment, in his beloved embrace. The world without might struggle with deep and mighty commotion—it might drink deeply of the elements of strife, and do battle with the stirring natures of mortality—but she was safe from strife and suffering now. ”

“ Christobelle did not think the gay, thoughtless Isabel would have become such a fond, anxious mother, so devoted to her child, so active as a nurse. And yet, why was she surprised? Had not Isabel warm affections, and was she not the favourite at Wetheral; always kind and conciliating, always gentle and beloved? Mr. Boscawen's age and manners chilled Isabel's heart by his anxiety to bestow attainments upon a mind which disliked application; but her child was sure to call forth every particle of her affectionate heart; its daily wants, its helplessness, made her useful in the way she best loved. ”

“ I was perfectly well when I entered the breakfast-room; but a few turns on the terrace with Lady Wetheral, before you appeared, has caused a head and heart ache. I cannot remain at Fairlee solitary, but I am too ill to mix in a party of pleasure."
"I wish we were both going in our own boat, to our own island, to be quiet," Christobelle exclaimed. "I do not enjoy large parties when my friends are ill." ”

“ Christobelle acknowledged it was so. She was silenced; she did not offer any defence for her alarms, but she could not suppress them. That chamber would never be her "sleeping" apartment. She should never be able to close her eyes.
A servant was in waiting to announce them, as they descended into the hall. The folding-doors were thrown open, their names were called over with proper emphasis, and they found themselves in the presence of Lord and Lady Ennismore, and the Countess-dowager. The latter rose, and advanced with her usual suavity. She took both Sir John's hands in hers. ”

“ Sir John Wetheral and Christobelle were speedily on their road to Ripley. The morning air was fresh and delicious, for May was on its threshold, and April had passed in smiles. The father's countenance beamed with pleasure, for he was conferring happiness—and his daughter was revelling in delight, because she was rolling towards Isabel, and should enjoy hours of amusement with the kind and patient Mr. Boscawen. All nature smiled under her eager eye, and she fancied the woods of Ripley even more beautiful than the grounds of Wetheral. ”

“ Whom did she love and venerate equal to Sir John Spottiswoode?
The following morning produced a long and perplexing conversation between the mother and daughter, which extinguished all Christobelle's happy feelings. No two beings could possibly be more opposed in feeling, in sentiment, and in action ”