Cruel As The Grave

"Thank Heaven!" breathed Sybil with all her heart; and her jealousy was

lulled to rest again by the kisses that he pressed on her lips. She said

to herself that all his devotion to Rosa Blondelle in the stage-coach

was but the proper courtesy of a gentleman to a lady guest, who was,

besides, a stranger in the country; and that she, his wife, ought to

admire, rather than to blame him for it--ought to be pleased, rather

than pained by it.

Very early the next morning the travellers arose, in order to take the

earliest coach, which, having left Norfolk at sunset, would reach

Underhill at sunrise.

Poor, ardent, impulsive Sybil! She had passed a very happy night; and

this morning she met her guest with a gush of genuine affection,

embracing and kissing her and her child, making them even more welcome

than she had done before, and feeling that to-day she could not deal too

kindly by Rosa, to atone for having yesterday thought so hardly of her.

Under these pleasant auspices the travellers sat down to an excellent

breakfast.

But the warning horn blew, and they prepared to resume their journey.

On entering the coach, they found the other passengers, three in number,

already on the back seat. But they were gentlemen, who voluntarily and

promptly gave up their seats to the two ladies and their escort. The

coach started.

Their route now lay through some of the wildest passes of the Blue

Ridge. And here the enthusiasm of Rosa Blondelle burst forth. She said

that she had seen grand mountains in Scotland, but nothing--no, nothing

to equal these in grandeur and beauty!

And Lyon Berners smiled to hear her speak so, as one might smile at the

extravagant delight of a child, for as a child this lovely stranger

often seemed to him and to others. And she, with her sweet, blue eyes,

smiled back to him.

And Sybil looked and listened, and felt again that strange wound

deepening in her heart--that strange cloud darkening over her mind.