ybil, utterly confused by this excessive, but most
sincere adulation, yet still caressing the stranger's fair head, "there,
dear, dry your eyes, and tell me if you can be ready to leave this place
with us to-morrow morning."

Again the foreign lady seized and kissed the hands of her new friend,
exclaiming fervently:

"Yes dear lady, yes! I am too deeply touched by your heavenly goodness
not to be anxious to profit by it as soon as possible."

"Then I will leave you to your preparations for the journey," said
Sybil, rising.

Rosa also stood up.

"There will be much to be done in a short time. Will you let me send my
maid to help yours?" inquired Sybil, with a hesitating smile.

"Thanks, dear madam. I shall be much obliged," replied Rosa, with a bow.

"And there is yet another request I have to make," added Mrs. Berners,
pausing with her hand upon the latch of the door--"Will you kindly meet
us at breakfast at eight o'clock to-morrow morning in our private
sitting-room, so that I may make you acquainted with my husband before
we all start on our journey together?"

"With pleasure, dear lady! It is your will to load me with benefits, and
you must be gratified," replied Rosa, with a faint smile.

"Then I will come myself and fetch you, a little before the hour," added
Sybil, playfully throwing a kiss as she darted through the door.

When she re-entered her own apartment, she found her husband impatiently
pacing up and down the floor.

"How very long you have been, my darling Sybil," he said, with all the
fondness of a newly-wedded lover, as he went to meet her.

"Oh, I am so glad you thought it long!" she answered mischievously, as
she took his hand and pulled him to the big easy-chair and pushed him
down into it.

"Sit down there, and listen to me," she said, with a pretty little air
of authority. Then she drew an ottoman to his side and sunk down upon
it, and leaned her arms upon his knees, and lifted her beautiful dark
face, now all aglow with the delight of benevolence, and told him all
that had passed in the interview between herself and Mrs. Blondelle.

And Lyon Berners, with his arm over her graceful shoulders, his fingers
stringing her silken black ringlets, and his eyes gazing with infinite
tenderness and admiration down on her eloquent face, listened with
attentive interest to the story. But at its close, great was his
astonishment.

"My dear, impulsive Sybil, what have you done!" he exclaimed.