What was he to do? In the midst of his ruminations, Sibylla rose.

"I am warm now," she said. "I should like to go upstairs and take this
heavy shawl off."

Lionel rang the bell for Mrs. Tynn. And Sibylla left the room with her.

"I'll get her sisters here!" he suddenly exclaimed, the thought of them
darting into his mind. "They will be the proper persons to explain to
her the inexpediency of her remaining here. Poor girl! she is unable to
think of it in her fatigue and grief."

He did not give it a second thought, but snatched his hat, and went down
himself to Dr. West's with strides as long as Jan's. Entering the
general sitting-room without ceremony, his eyes fell upon a supper-table
and Master Cheese; the latter regaling himself upon apple-puffs to his
heart's content.

"Where are the Misses West?" asked Lionel.

"Gone to a party," responded the young gentleman, as soon as he could
get his mouth sufficiently empty to speak.

"Where to?"

"To Heartburg, sir. It's a ball at old Thingumtight's, the doctor's.
They are gone off in gray gauze, with, branches of white flowers hanging
to their curls, and they call that mourning. The fly is to bring them
back at two in the morning. They left these apple-puffs for me and Jan.
Jan said he should not want any; he'd eat meat; so I have got his share
and mine!"

And Master Cheese appeared to be enjoying the shares excessively. Lionel
left him to it, and went thoughtfully back to Verner's Pride.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

A MOMENT OF DELIRIUM.

The dining-room looked a picture of comfort, and Lionel thought so as he
entered. A blaze of light and warmth burst upon him. A well-spread
tea-table was there, with cold meat, game and else, at one end of it.
Standing before the fire, her young, slender form habited in its black
robes, was Sibylla. No one, looking at her, would have believed her to
be a widow; partly from her youth, partly that she did not wear the
widow's dress. Her head was uncovered, and her fair curls fell, shading
her brilliant cheeks. It has been mentioned that her chief beauty lay in
her complexion: seen by candle-light, flushed as she was now, she was
inexpressibly beautiful. A dangerous hour, a perilous situation for the
yet unhealed heart of Lionel Verner.

The bright flush was the result of excitement, of some degree of inward
fever. Let us allow that it was a trying time for her. She had arrived
to find Mrs. Verner dead, her father absent; she h