t of her love for
Frederick Massingbird was her father, Dr. West.

"Don't be a simpleton, child, and bind yourself with your eyes
bandaged," he abruptly and laconically said to her one day. "When
Verner's Pride falls in, then marry whoever is its master."

"Lionel will be its master for certain, will he not?" she answered,
startled out of the words.

"We don't know who will be its master," was Dr. West's rejoinder. "Don't
play the simpleton, I say, Sibylla, by entangling yourself with your
cousin Fred."

Dr. West was one who possessed an eye to the main chance; and, had
Lionel Verner been, beyond contingency, "certain" of Verner's Pride,
there is little doubt but he would have brought him to book at once, by
demanding his intentions with regard to Sibylla. There were very few
persons in Deerham but deemed Lionel as indisputably certain of Verner's
Pride as though he were already in possession of it. Dr. West was
probably an unusually cautious man.

"It is singular," observed Lionel, looking at the moth. "The day has
been sunshiny, but far too cold to call these moths into life. At least,
according to my belief; but I am not learned in entomology."

"Ento--, what a hard word!" cried Sibylla, in her prettily affected
manner. "I should never find out how to spell it."

Lionel smiled. His deep love was shining out of his eyes as he looked
down upon her. He loved her powerfully, deeply, passionately; to him she
was as a very angel, and he believed her to be as pure-souled,
honest-hearted, and single-minded.

"Where did my aunt go to-day?" inquired Sibylla, alluding to Mrs.
Verner.

"She did not go anywhere that I am aware of," he answered.

"I saw the carriage out this afternoon."

"It was going to the station for Miss Tempest."

"Oh! she's come, then? Have you seen her? What sort of a demoiselle does
she seem?"

"The sweetest child!--she looks little more than a child!" cried Lionel
impulsively.

"A child, is she? I had an idea she was grown up. Have any of you at
Verner's Pride heard from John?"

"No."

"But the mail's in, is it not? How strange that he does not write!"

"He may be coming home with his gold," said Lionel.

They were interrupted. First of all came in the tea-things--for at Dr.
West's the dinner-hour was early--and, next, two young ladies, bearing a
great resemblance to each other. It would give them dire offence not to
call them young. They were really not very much past thirty, but