u know she and you would like to stay at home together--and get the
rest of us out."

"Be silent!" he said in a sterner tone than he had ever used to her.
"You cannot reflect upon what you are saying. Accuse me as you please; I
will bear it patiently, if I can; but Miss Tempest must be spared. You
_know_ how utterly unfounded are such thoughts; you know that she is
refined, gentle, single-hearted; that all her thoughts to you, as my
wife, are those of friendship and kindness. What would my mother think
were she to hear this?"

Sibylla made no reply.

"You have never seen a look or heard a word pass between me and Lucy
Tempest that was not of the most open nature, entirely compatible with
her position, that of a modest and refined gentlewoman, and of mine, as
your husband. I think you must be mad, Sibylla."

The words Jan had used. If such temperaments do not deserve the name of
madness, they are near akin to it. Lionel spoke with emotion: it all but
over-mastered him, and he went back to his place by the mantel-piece,
his chest heaving.

"I shall leave this residence as speedily as maybe," he said, "giving
some trivial excuse to my mother for the step. I see no other way to put
an end to this."

Sibylla, her mood changing, burst into tears. "I don't want to leave
it," she said quite in a humble tone.

He was not inclined for argument. He had rapidly made his mind up,
believing it was the only course open to him. He must go away with his
wife, and so leave the house in peace. Saying something to that effect,
he quitted the room, leaving Sibylla sobbing; fractiously on the pillow
of the chair.

He went down to the drawing-room. He did not care where he went, or what
became of him. It is an unhappy thing when affairs grow to that
miserable pitch, that the mind has neither ease nor comfort anywhere. At
the first moment of entering, he thought the room was empty, but as his
eyes grew accustomed to the dusk, he discerned the form of some one
standing at the distant window. It was Lucy Tempest. Lionel went
straight up to her. He felt that some apology or notice from him was
due. She was crying bitterly, and turned to him before he could speak.

"Mr. Verner, I feel my position keenly. I would not remain here to make
things unpleasant to your wife for the whole world. But I cannot help
myself. I have nowhere to go until papa shall return to Europe."

"Lucy, let me say a word to you," he whispered, his tones impeded,