one so," he remonstrated, his tone one of the most
considerate kindness.

"I did not observe that tea waited," she replied, the covered table
catching her eye for the first time. "I have been thinking."

He placed a chair for her before the tea-tray, and she sat down. "Am I
to preside?" she asked.

"If you will. If you are not too tired."

"Who makes tea for you in general?" she continued.

"They send it in, made."

Sibylla busied herself with the tea, in a languid sort of manner. In
vain Lionel pressed her to eat. She could touch nothing. She took a
piece of rolled bread-and-butter, but left it.

"You must have dined on the road, Mrs. Massingbird?" he said, with a
smile.

"I? I have not taken anything all day. I kept thinking 'I shall get to
Verner's Pride in time for my aunt's dinner.' But the train arrived
later than I anticipated; and when I got here she was gone."

Sibylla bent her head, as if playing with her teaspoon. Lionel detected
the dropping tears.

"Did you wonder where I was going just now, when I went out?"

"I did not know you had been out," replied Sibylla.

"I went to your sisters'. I thought it would be better for them to come
here. Unfortunately, I found them gone out; and young Cheese says they
will not be home until two in the morning."

"Why, where can they be gone?" cried Sibylla, aroused to interest. It
was so unusual for the Misses West to be out late.

"To some gathering at Heartburg. Cheese was eating apple-puffs with
unlimited satisfaction."

The connection of apple-puffs with Master Cheese called up a faint smile
into Sibylla's face. She pushed her chair away from the table, turning
it towards the fire.

"But you surely have not finished, Mrs. Massingbird?"

"Yes, thank you. I have drunk my tea. I cannot eat anything."

Lionel rang, and the things were removed. Sibylla was standing before
the mantel-piece when they were left alone, unconsciously looking at
herself in the glass. Lionel stood near her.

"I have not got a widow's cap," she exclaimed, turning to him, the
thought appearing suddenly to strike her. "I had two or three curious
things made, that they called widows' caps in Melbourne, but they were
spoiled on the voyage."

"You have seen some trouble since you went out," Lionel observed.

"Yes, I have. It was an ill-starred voyage. It has been ill-starred from
the beginning to the end; all of it together."

"The voyage has, you mean?"

"I mean more than