Cruel As The Grave

For my own part, looking towards this situation of affairs through the

light of after knowledge, I think that her fears were, even then,

well-founded; that even then it was a true instinct which warned her

that her adored husband, he to whom her whole heart, soul, and spirit

were entirely given, he for whom only she "lived and moved and had her

being," he was becoming fascinated, for the time being at least, by

this beautiful stranger, who was evidently also flattered by his

attentions. And this in the very honeymoon of the bride to whom he owed

so much!

And yet indeed, I say, still speaking in the light of after knowledge,

that at this time he was equally unconscious of his wife's jealousy, or

of any wrong-doing on his own part, calculated to arouse it. Had Lyon

Berners suspected that his attentions to their fair guest gave such deep

pain to his high-spirited wife, he would at least have modified them to

retain her confidence. But he suspected nothing. Sybil revealed nothing;

her pride was even greater than her jealousy; for this last daughter of

the House of Berners inherited all the pride of all her line. At this

time, this pride quite enabled her to keep her pain to herself.

At length the severe ordeal was, for the moment, over. She perceived

that her companions had finished breakfast, and so she arose from the

table, leaving her example to be followed by them.

"Let me lead you to our pleasant morning parlor. It is just across the

hall, and commands the same view of the lake and mountains that this

room does--from the front windows I mean; but from the end windows you

get a view up the valley, and may catch glimpses of the Black Torrent

as it rushes roaring down the side of the mountain," said Mr. Berners,

as he offered his hand to Mrs. Blondelle and led her from the breakfast

parlor.

Sybil looked after them with pallid cheeks and darkening brows; then she

rushed up into her own chamber, locked her door, threw herself upon her

bed and gave way to a storm of sobs and tears. While she was still

weeping vehemently, there came a knock at the door. She lifted up her

head and listened; controlling her voice as well as she could, she

inquired: "Who is there, and what is wanted?"

"It is I, my dear, and I want to come in," answered the voice of her

husband.

"I have not even the privilege of shutting myself up to weep alone! for

I belong to one who can invade my privacy or command my presence at his

pleasure!" exclaimed Sybil in bitterness of spirit; and yet bitterness

that was mingled with a strange, deep sweetness too! for she loved to

feel that she did belong to Lyon Berners; that he had the privilege

of invading her privacy, or commanding her presence at his pleasure. And

ah! that was a happiness Rosa Blondelle would not share!