etire from the world--as Miss West had suggested she
should do now in the uncertainty. Lionel did not wholly agree with Miss
West. He deemed that, in the uncertainty, Sibylla's place was by his
side, still his wife; but, when once the uncertainty was set at rest by
the actual appearance of Frederick Massingbird, then let her retire. It
was the only course that he could pursue, were the case his own. His
mind was made up upon one point--to withdraw himself out of the way when
that time came. To India, to the wilds of Africa--anywhere, far, far
away. Never would he remain to be an eye-sore to Sibylla or Frederick
Massingbird--inhabiting the land that they inhabited, breathing the air
that sustained life in them. Sibylla might rely on one thing--that when
Frederick Massingbird did appear beyond doubt or dispute, that very hour
he said adieu to Sibylla. The shock soothed--and he would soothe it for
her to the very utmost of his power--he should depart. He would be no
more capable of retaining Sibylla in the face of her husband, than he
could have taken her, knowingly, from that husband in his lifetime.

But where _was_ Frederick Massingbird? Tynn's opinion had been--he had
told it to his master--that when he saw Frederick Massingbird steal into
the grounds of Verner's Pride the previous evening, he was coming on to
the house, there and then. Perhaps Lionel himself had entertained the
same conviction. But the night had passed, and no Frederick Massingbird
had come. What could be the meaning of it? What could be the meaning of
his dodging about Deerham in this manner, frightening the
inhabitants?--of his watching the windows of Verner's Pride? Verner's
Pride was his; Sibylla was his; why, then, did he not arrive to assume
his rights?

Agitated with these and many other conflicting thoughts, Lionel lay on
his uneasy bed, and saw in the morning light. He did not rise until his
usual hour; he would have risen far earlier but for the fear of
disturbing Sibylla. To lie there, a prey to these reflections, to this
terrible suspense, was intolerable to him, but he would not risk waking
her. The day might prove long enough and bad enough for her, without
arousing her to it before her time. He rose, but she slept on still.
Lionel did wonder how she could.

Not until he was going out of the room, dressed, did she awake. She
awoke with a start. It appeared as if recollection, or partial
recollection, of the last night's trouble flashed