it beneath his dignity to
leave the slippers at Anthony Styles the shoemaker's? It was just there
by the tavern at the sign of the gilded boot. He had only to drop the
shoe, with a message she would write to go with it, into the tunnel-box
by the door, and Anthony would find it by daylight and set to work upon
it at once, that she might not be disappointed, for it was a longish
job, she knew.

Beneath his dignity! Sir Harry laughed. He was only too glad to do her
bidding.

And would he then give her a bit of paper and pencil and take her to
the cloak-room for a moment?

Alone in the cloak-room, Sibyl wrote her message to Anthony Styles.
Folding the paper in the slipper, and wrapping the whole in her
pocket-handkerchief, she fastened the parcel securely with the silken
cord that had held her fan.

"And may I have the last dance to-morrow night?" asked Sir Harry,
smilingly, as he took leave of her a few minutes later.

"Perhaps, if I may depend upon you--and Anthony Styles," she answered.
Her eyes sparkled like dark jewels as she spoke; her cheeks burned like
red twin roses.

CHAPTER III.

Robe of satin and Brussels lace,
Knots of flowers and ribbons too,
Scattered about in every place,
For the revel is through.

And there, in the midst of all this pretty disorder of satin and lace
and flowers, sits Sibyl, far into the night, or rather morning, turning
over and over in her mind something that effectually banishes sleep.

By and by, as she turns it over for the twentieth time, she says aloud
to herself: "To think that it should be given to _me_ to do,--made _my_
duty! Uncle Jeffrey taught me that, as he has taught me many things
these past months,--to keep my own counsel, for one thing.

"Ah, Uncle Jeffrey, you have fancied me all these months naught but a
vain little puppet who could be led to forget anything in a round of
routs and balls. Well, I like the routs and balls dearly, dearly, but I
like something else better. I like what my father has taught us, what
my dear Eph is going to fight for, and perhaps die for, far, far better.
Yet I felt like a cheat to-night as I led Sir Harry on to tell me what
he did,--Sir Harry, who thinks me, as all the rest do, a stanch little
Tory, for I have kept my counsel indeed, and no one suspects. But oh, it
is odious, it is odious, this war business; yet I have been taught how
to do my duty, and I have done it. Yes, I have done my duty, for 'the
repo