"No;" and Sibyl turned away from her questioner to hide the passion of tears she could no longer repress. "If you do not wish all the world to know, you must exercise self-control; you must be on your guard," said Isabel, after a short pause. "There is nothing that lays a girl more open to ridicule than the imputation that she has fallen in love with a man who has shown her no preference; and I am sure Mr. Digby Stuart has shown you none. Hush! this is like a baby! Don't let us have all the gossips in Hillminster set a-chatter! I'll lock the door, and then you can cry your cry out; but I hope nobody will come. Isabel stood for a minute hushed and observant-time enough to repent, time enough to steal away, time enough to save her own soul from the first active step into a temptation that was to beguile her whither she would have shrunk from imagining even now; but the demon was strong in her at that instant, and stepping over the thick carpet with noiseless tread, she laid a hand on Sibyl's shoulder and whispered, with a laugh which made no pretence of masking her contempt, "I'm sure Mr. Digby Stuart would feel immensely flattered if he knew who takes such a tender interest in his comings and goings." Sibyl sprang back with an inarticulate sound between a cry and a sob, her visage blanched Nobody did come, and Sibyl's agony had for a moment, then dyed scarlet with guilty its way. Isabel brought her some sal volablushes. She did not utter a word; and Isa- tile and water to drink, and stood over her bel, eyeing her with a steady, sarcastic pene-putting in words of wisdom and counsel at tration, went on: "So this is the clue to every lull in the storm; and when it was your fits of pretty abstraction! I wish you spent bathed her eyes, smoothed her hair, joy of your love? Don't let concealment, dressed her for a walk round the Close, tied like a worm in the bud, feed on your damask a veil under her chin, and carried her off cheek; don't pine away in green and yellow melancholy, but let yourself go, let your hidden passion reveal itself. Men are mostly vain. If Mr. Digby Stuart were told who lavishes on him such deep devotion, his heart, though proverbially tough as bend leather, would surely yield." 66 sex. 'Isabel!" gasped Sibyl, in a tone and with a gesture which were of themselves an ample confession; and in that light her cousin understood, accepted, and responded to them. "You have made me your confident against your will," said she. "I don't covet the burden of sentimental secrets, but I suppose I must keep yours for the credit's sake of our I declare I am very sorry for you, Cousin Sibyl; for to speak the honest truth I believe you have no more chance of winning a return to your feelings than I have of becoming Empress of China. If Mr. Digby Stuart had been inclined to marry, he would not have let Lady Raymond slip through his fingers; and compare Lady Raymond with yourself. How came you ever to indulge in such a cruel delusion as that you could rival her?" "I don't know; I don't know," muttered Sibyl, her lips parched, her eyes fixed, her heart in her boson growing colder and heavier at every word until it was cold and heavy as clay. "Have you told aunt Mary?" finally to evening prayers at the minster, was Isabel experienced no pain at seeing her suffer; she was drifting before the evil impulses to which she had yielded at the beginning, and her heart, without preconcerting plans to harm the child, readily adopted the opportunities that circumstances presented. Had Sibyl been bolder or less ingenuous, she would have stubbornly denied the charge, but it was now fully admitted, and she lay at her cousin's mercy. It seemed to her just then that though Isabel spoke satirically she was practically kind. "What should I do without you?" sighed she as they returned homewards across the Close. "Oh, what should I do without you ?" "It appears to me that you would still rather have kept your secret to yourself," was Isabel's response. not take to George, unless she has conceived a secret attachment to some other person.' "Oh, yes! It did not make me wretched | else;" and her mother's equally grave and or afraid; it was easier to bear when no one anxious, "I cannot understand why Sibyl does knew it. Isabel, if you betray me I shall die!" That became Sibyl's one idea nowconcealment. The unveiling of her love had profaned it, made it an absurdity, a mockery something to be utterly, profoundly, and forever ashamed of. He would despise it despise her for giving it; so Isabel had told her, and Isabel knew how the world and the men of the world spoke of such unsought love. Henceforward Isabel must be her screen, her safety, her adviser; and if Isabel betrayed her she should die! Mr. Digby Stuart did come, but not until he had been waited for ten minutes, and, while apologizing to Lady Anne Vernon for his tardiness, he continued to hold in his hand a spray of beautiful white flowers, very rare and choice, and of exquisite perfume, which he presently offered to Sibyl. "You “It is the first bloom," said he. wished to see it in flower, if you recollect; and I promised you the earliest branch that There was a dinner-party at the deanery came out in perfection." Sibyl blushed, and that evening, consisting chiefly of the clergy accepted it with shy eagerness which escaped and their wives, but George Lansmere was notice then, but which was pitifully rememcoming, and the dean had added Mr. Digby bered later; and in spite of all the foregone Stuart to the number of guests by an invita- miseries and humiliations of the day, she felt tion given that morning and accepted condi- inexpressibly happy until she caught Isabel tionally. "It is not certain that he will be watching her with cold eyes of scorn. "Deable to come," said the dean, only mention- lirious little fool!" Isabel thought, and her ing his impromptu invitation to Lady Anne glance expressed her thought. She hated when they assembled in the drawing-room Sibyl vehemently, actively, at that instant, before dinner. "It is not certain that he for her childish clation; and Sibyl, shrinkwill be able to come, but I want him to meet ing within herself again under her freezing Danvers-they were both Christchurch men, contempt, felt all her temporarily vanished and of the same year." Danvers-the Rev-distrust return. erend Canon Danvers-was the canon newly As luck or ill-luck would have it, Sibyl's come into residence, and also newly come into office; a stranger to Hillminster, but not to the diocese; a widower with two boys, and considerable private means independent of the emoluments of his position-a great acquisition in every way to the society of a cathedral town. place at dinner was between Mr. Digby Stuart and the new canon, and Isabel's place was opposite, between George Lansmere and a fat old married rector, very loquacious and fond of his jest. The natural consequences ensued. When the ladies returned to the drawingroom, Sibyl was pleasantly excited, and IsaSibyl heard the dean's announcement with bel was dull, tired, and cross. Then again, a shudder; she turned hot, then cold, then in the drawing-room, Sibyl's gift, which her glanced timidly towards Isabel, who was look-mother tenderly insisted on fixing in her hair, ing away from her, and making conversation became a nucleus of conversation which with her sister over a new song. Presently ranged away to Alvertson itself, coming the company began to arrive, George Lans- round ever and again to that spray of white mere as usual being the earliest. The young blossoms. "What a fuss about a flower!" officer had not made satisfactory progress said Isabel; "it was to be seen at Kew with Sibyl since the day of the drive to Alverston, and was sometimes almost like to be disheartened over his prospects. She was very uncertain; one day sweet and summery, the next, shy, impatient, or repellent. He had opened his mind to Lady Mary, who had That night, when the guests dispersed, exhorted him to have patience, and had pri- Sibyl went straight to her mother's room. vately lectured Sibyl on her capriciousness, She would have given much to have her and at this point they continued stationary; secret all to herself again; for she was afraid George's reflection being "I don't think of Isabel. She took the white flower from she cares for me, she has a fancy for some one her hair, and put it into a glass of water, three years ago." She demolished the novelty of the flower; but she suggested to one or two commonplace minds then present that she was jealous of the distinction Mr. Digby Stuart had conferred on her pretty cousin. "Is it Mr. Digby Stuart?" 66 first touching the sweet blossoms tenderly for she has conceived an attachment that is with her lips; a happy gleam passed over her never likely to prosper. Unless Isabel has face as she indulged in this caress, but it soon told you, you will hardly guess for whom," vanished, and the weary sadness that suc- said Lady Mary. ceeded it was very pathetic. She knelt so long at her prayers that Lady Mary, at ease in her mind, tired and comfortable, fell fast asleep on her pillow, and only awoke in the dead of the night to hear Sibyl shuddering and sobbing in her dreams, and uttering broken words of piteous entreaty, the only sense of which to her mother's ears was-" If you betray me, I shall die; oh, Isabel, if you betray me, I shall die!" Lady Mary closed no eye again until Sibyl had been roused from her nightmare of dread, and had poured the story of her love and her grief into her mother's breast. Yes. But how do you know it?" "The idea came into my head last night, and but for certain other circumstances I could imagine he had a predilection in her favor too. I am sure he admires her, and if he were free to marry, which from past events it is commonly supposed he is not, I would never advise you to take her out of the way. I am sorry for you, Mary; I wish she could have loved George, poor child!" And then it was decided that Sibyl had better go; whether ever to return to Hillminster or not, might be left for subsequent The following morning when Isabel met consideration. But she could not go for sevher aunt, she perceived at once that her in-eral days yet. Ladies travel with impediterference with Sibyl was known and the ments which cannot be packed up at a momanner of it strongly disapproved. She ex-ment's notice, and during those several days peeted that Lady Mary would speak to her occurred certain circumstances which, trivial on the subject, but she did not, and then Isabel understood that it was to be left undiscussed. Sibyl was very quiet and subdued all day, and in the evening Lady Mary began to talk about carrying her off to the seaside for a week or two before the cold autumnal winds began to blow-Sibyl was so fond of the sea. Isabel listened with a silent, expressive sneer, but Julia good-humoredly expostulated, saying that Lady Mary must not keep her cousin away from the October ball. "I don't care for the October ball," sighed Sibyl, who would have done better not to have spoken just then. 66 Eh, what?" cried the dean. "Not care for the October ball-the best ball of the year! Lady Mary, you must look after your missykin, who expresses such unnatural sentiments, or the next news will be that she has fallen in love at cross-purposes like the heroine in a novel !” Sibyl grew scarlet, others looked confused too, and an awkward silence ensued, which was not broken until somebody proposed music. The rest of the evening passed off without incident. Of course, as soon as they were in private Lady Anne Vernon asked explanation of her sister's sudden resolve; she was told that it was on Sibyl's account. "I think it wise to take her away from Hillminster at any rate, for a little while; as they were in themselves, tended to increase Lady Mary indulged in the pleasures of hope, too; she was very willing to believe what she would have liked to be true. Isabel looked on with jealous rage. Sibyl was almost happy, almost herself again, during those final days at the deanery; her childlike love was easily fed and satisfied. "You are in a state of beatitude now; take care, or you will have to repent it in dust and ashes!" said Isabel to her, with a vicious glance and a tone of anything but blessing. 66 "O Isabel, how you do hate me!" was Sibyl's indignant rejoinder. This was on the last night of their being together. The next morning Isabel went out at a quarter before ten to minster prayers, and during her absence Lady Mary Rivers and her daughter left. The cousins thus parted without good-byes. Neither had goodby been said to Mr. Digby Stuart. "He does not know where we are going, does he, mamma?" Sibyl asked on their way to the station. "No, darling! he is not aware of our leaving Hillminster, unless you have told him." "I have not told him, mamma." "If he wishes to know he can find out by inquiring at the deanery. Aunt Anne has our address." The same evening Lady Mary Rivers and Sibyl were at home in their pleasant lodgings at Scarbro. "What is it, my own darling?" Sibyl came and knelt down by her mother, and put the letter into her hands. "My "My happy child, my fortunate child!" murmured Lady Mary as she read it. happy child, my fortunate child! How shall I thank heaven enough for sparing you the anguish of a wasted love?" The letter was a proposal of marriage to Sibyl from Mr. Digby Stuart, couched in almost romantically tender terms; full of affectionate enthusiasm and professions of unalterable fidelity—a lover's letter to a girl of whose responsive love he entertains not the slightest doubt; a little reproachful now and then that she should have left Hillminster without warning him; but only reproachful as by right. Lady Mary remembered her Irish subaltern and her own courting days as her eye ran swiftly along the sweet, fervent lines, and blessed God who had given her darling such a joyful lot when she seemed to be hanging on the brink of a woman's sorest tragedy. It was a morning of quite delirious happiness for them both. Outside the rain lashed vehemently, the wind ravened, the sea was churned into yeasty mountains of foam; but indoors hope and love reigned supreme. Sibyl must answer her letter, and she needed no teaching how; her heart bade her respond to it with honest joy, and Lady Mary could not find it in hers to curb the sweet utterance of such pure and fond affection. So the letter was written and sent, Sibyl carrying it to the post herself through the blustering storm, and her mother, after a gentle, ineffectual remonstrance, accompanying her. Two days passed over without incident, bright September days, sunny in fading woods, sunny on lake-like sea. On the third night the wind changed and blew for a storm. On the third morning a heap of letters was brought in by the landlady and ranged on the By night she seemed to have lived half a breakfast-table. When Lady Mary Rivers life since the blissful morning, and by night came down-stairs with Sibyl, she took them all she was a little weary; glad to lie by the fire in her hand, looked them over, and tossed and dream silently over her glorious happione lightly across to her daughter, saying: ness. Lady Mary watched her with tender "From your Cousin Isabel;" and then satisfaction, and suffered her to rest a long with a half-sigh of disappointed expectation while undisturbed; but at length she asked, opened another from Lady Anne Vernon," By-the-by, Sibyl, what news had you from and plunged into its closely written pages, your Cousin Isabel? I did not remember to where she found enough to interest her, and inquire before." take her attention entirely away from Sibyl, until she heard her cry in a voice of thrilling delight, "Mamma, mamma!" when, looking round, she saw her clutching her letter to her bosom, while her face grew rosy with blushes and her eyes glistened through tears of unutterable joy. "I had no letter from Cousin Isabel; I had no letter but this." This was warmly hidden somewhere in the bosom of her dress. "Indeed the address struck me as being like her hand: she does write a bold hand like a man's.” Sibyl drew out the precious document to consider it, and took the opportunity of re- | like a man who has little to hope and little perusing it down to the last dear word. By to fear, either from the world within or the that time she had forgotten her Cousin Isabel and all about her; and with a kiss on the signature, and a sigh of intense joy, she restored it to its safe hiding-place, and fell into another delicious reverie. All that night the winds beat and the tempest raged. Wrecks, broken wrecks, drifted in upon the strand, and still the gale gathered and grew until the morning. world without. The post-bag lay on the table, but he went first to the window and scanned the weather, noted how the great trees swayed and bent before the long rush of the storm, then rose erect and tossed their wild hair, as if in frantic defiance of their tormentors. The entrance of a servant bringing in breakfast caused him to relinquish his survey; and "It has been an awful night," said Lady before seating himself at the well-spread taMary; "and it is an awful morning. God ble he unlocked the bag and drew forth its have pity on all poor souls at sea!" She contents-The Times, the Quarterly Review, was standing at the window, gazing out on the writhing trees and shrubs of the cliffgardens, and Sibyl stood by her with hand and chin resting on her mother's shoulder. Lady Mary, turning round by-and-by from her dreary contemplation, saw tears standing in her child's eyes, and asked, with sudden anxiety, what ailed her darling. "I don't know, mamma, but I have had such cruel dreams. I cannot recall them, but I feel the pain, the dreadful pain and oppression of them yet," was the grievous reply; and then the brimming tears overflowed and fell: Lady Mary did not try to rally Sibyl out of her weeping mood; a strange sense of trouble impending took possession of herself. She endeavored to reason it down, and to think this depression was a simple consequence of yesterday's excitement; but do what she would, or say what she would, her feeling of uneasiness increased. She had a presentiment, as people say, that something was going to happen. If it were fit weather we would walk on the cliff and get these cobwebs blown out of our brains," said she, as they sat down to breakfast. "How the blast howls in the chimney! I never heard it howl as it howls here." So Lady Mary fancied; but the storm that was raging over Scarbro was raging all over the county, and all over the kingdom. Through the windy towers of Hillminster and through the creaking fir-woods at Alverston howled the blasts, with the same hoarse triumph as they howled round about the house by the sea, where she and Sibyl sat watching the livelong day. and a dozen or more letters, amongst them Sibyl's, conspicuous in its delicate, blushtinted envelope. It was so different from the rest that Mr. Digby Stuart naturally singled it out paused a moment over the unfamiliar writing, and then broke the seal. The servant had quitted the room, and he was alone -fortunately alone. As he read the first few lines a feeling of utter bewilderment came over him; he turned the page to look at the signature, and then a dark flush suffused his face, which deepened and deepened as the sense of the letter forced itself on his understanding, until no girl ever showed more cowed with shame and confusion than did he. "What an infamous jest! was his lowspoken comment. "What a cruel, infamous jest! Mr. Digby Stuart was not a vain man, but he knew at once this letter was no forgery; it was the naïve, happy response of an innocent girl to some base fabrication that had been but too successfully imposed upon her in his name. If he had been her mother he could not have felt more indignant and more pitying. Not a grain of contempt mingled with wrath. “If it lay with me only to prevent it, she should never know what a wicked trick has been played upon her. She is a good little thing. It was such a pleasure to look at her blithe face, to listen to her blithe tongue!" He was about to take up the letter and read it again, but he checked himself—“ What can I do? what ought I to do?" groaned he. "It is some woman, some malicious, bad woman who hates her, that has done it." He sat a long while considering, his breakfast untouched, his other At Hillminster all went on in the regular letters unopened; and the longer he considroutine; at Alverston the master came down-ered, the more painful and perilous appeared stairs in the morning quietly non-expectant, the way out of this atrocious dilemma." "I'll |