s well as in. The doctor touched the
muslin.

"This is not a fit dress for you, Sibylla--"

"Lionel has been putting you up to say it, papa!" she burst forth.

Dr. West looked at her. He surmised, what was indeed the case, that her
husband had remonstrated against the unsuitableness of the attire, to
one in her condition.

"You have heard every word Mr. Verner has spoken to me, Sibylla. You
should be wrapped up warmly always. To be exposed as you are now, is
enough to--to"--give you your death, he was about to say, but changed
the words--"make you very ill."

"Decima and Lucy Tempest dress so," she returned in a tone that
threatened tears.

Dr. West lifted his eyes to where Decima and Lucy were standing with
Lord Garle. Decima wore a silk dress, Lucy a white one; each made
evening fashion.

"They are both healthy," he said, "and may wear what they please. Look
at their necks, compared to yours, Sibylla. I shall ask Mr. Verner to
put all these thin dresses, these low bodies, behind the fire."

"He would only have the pleasure of paying for others to replace them,"
was the undutiful rejoinder. "Papa, I have enough trouble, without your
turning against me."

Turning against her! Dr. West did not point out how purposeless were her
words. His intention was to come in in the morning, and talk to her
seriously of her state of health, and the precautions it was necessary
to observe. He took a sip of his coffee, and turned to Lionel.

"I was about to ask you a superfluous question, Mr. Verner--whether that
lost codicil has been heard of. But your leaving Verner's Pride is an
answer."

"It has never been heard of," replied Lionel. "When John Massingbird
returned and put in his claim--when he took possession, I may say, for
the one was coeval with the other--the wanting of the codicil was indeed
a grievance; far more than it had appeared at the time of its loss."

"You must regret it very much."

"I regret it always," he answered. "I regret it bitterly for Sibylla's
sake."

"Papa," she cried, in deep emotion, her cheeks becoming crimson, her
blue eyes flashing with an unnatural light, "if that codicil could be
found it would save my life. Jan, in his rough, stupid way, tells me I
am fretting myself into my grave. Perhaps I am. I want to go back to
Verner's Pride."

It was not a pleasant subject to converse on; it was a subject utterly
hopeless--and Dr. West sought one more genial. Ranging his eyes over the
roo