Gerard was disengaged, Hatton would propose that
they should show Sybil something of the splendour or the rarities of the
metropolis; its public buildings, museums, and galleries of art. Sybil,
though uninstructed in painting, had that native taste which requires
only observation to arrive at true results. She was much interested with
all she saw and all that occurred, and her gratification was heightened
by the society of an individual who not only sympathised with all
she felt, but who, if she made an inquiry, was ever ready with an
instructive reply. Hatton poured forth the taste and treasures of a
well-stored and refined intelligence. And then too, always easy, bland,
and considerate; and though with luxuries and conveniences at his
command, to participate in which, under any other circumstances, might
have been embarrassing to his companions, with so much tact, that
either by an allusion to early days, happy days when he owed so much
to Gerard's father, or some other mode equally felicitous, he contrived
completely to maintain among them the spirit of social equality. In
the evening, Hatton generally looked in when Gerard was at home, and
on Sundays they were always together. Their common faith was a bond
of union which led them to the same altar, and on that day Hatton
had obtained their promise always to dine with him. He was careful to
ascertain each holy day at what chapel the music was most exquisite,
that the most passionate taste of Sybil might be gratified. Indeed,
during this residence in London, the opportunity it afforded of making
her acquainted with some of the great masters of the human voice was
perhaps to Sybil a source of pleasure not the least important. For
though it was not deemed consistent with the future discipline which
she contemplated to enter a theatre, there were yet occasions which
permitted her, under every advantage, to listen to the performance of
the master-pieces of sacred melody. Alone, with Hatton and her father,
she often poured forth those tones of celestial sweetness and etherial
power that had melted the soul of Egremont amid the ruins of Marney
Abbey.

More intimately acquainted with Sybil Gerard, Hatton had shrunk from
the project that he had at first so crudely formed. There was something
about her that awed, while it fascinated him. He did not relinquish
his purpose, for it was a rule of his life never to do that; but he
postponed the plans of its fulfilment. Hatton was n