ch for him, and it had brought
him back. His kiss burned again upon her mouth. Her eyelids were warm
with his breath.

Then Wisdom altered its method and spoke of espial and discovery. This
young man might be rich. If so, marriage should be thought of. Against
the shell of her ear broke the waves of worldly cunning. The arrows of
craft shot by her. She saw the thin lips moving, and smiled.

Suddenly she felt the need to speak. The wordy silence troubled her.
"Mother, mother," she cried, "why does he love me so much? I know why I
love him. I love him because he is like what Love himself should be. But
what does he see in me? I am not worthy of him. And yet--why, I cannot
tell--though I feel so much beneath him, I don't feel humble. I feel
proud, terribly proud. Mother, did you love my father as I love Prince
Charming?"

The elder woman grew pale beneath the coarse powder that daubed her
cheeks, and her dry lips twitched with a spasm of pain. Sibyl rushed to
her, flung her arms round her neck, and kissed her. "Forgive me, mother.
I know it pains you to talk about our father. But it only pains you
because you loved him so much. Don't look so sad. I am as happy to-day
as you were twenty years ago. Ah! let me be happy for ever!"

"My child, you are far too young to think of falling in love. Besides,
what do you know of this young man? You don't even know his name. The
whole thing is most inconvenient, and really, when James is going away
to Australia, and I have so much to think of, I must say that you should
have shown more consideration. However, as I said before, if he is
rich...."

"Ah! Mother, mother, let me be happy!"

Mrs. Vane glanced at her, and with one of those false theatrical
gestures that so often become a mode of second nature to a stage-player,
clasped her in her arms. At this moment the door opened, and a young lad
with rough brown hair came into the room. He was thick-set of figure,
and his hands and feet were large, and somewhat clumsy in movement. He
was not so finely bred as his sister. One would hardly have guessed the
close relationship that existed between them. Mrs. Vane fixed her eyes
on him, and intensified the smile. She mentally elevated her son to the
dignity of an audience. She felt sure that the _tableau_ was
interesting.

"You might keep some of your kisses for me, Sibyl, I think," said the
lad, with a good-natured grumble.

"Ah! but you don't like being kissed, Jim," she cried. "Yo