e us any longer, now you
have put the light out. Who is it? Why should he have stood there,
watching us?"

Lionel snatched her to him with an impulsive gesture. He would have
sacrificed his life willingly, to save Sibylla from the terrible
misfortune that appeared to be falling upon her.

CHAPTER LIX.

A CASUAL MEETING ON THE RIVER.

A merry breakfast-table. Sibylla, for a wonder, up, and present at it.
The rain of the preceding day, the storm of the night had entirely
passed away, and as fine a morning as could be wished was smiling on the
earth.

"Which of you went out before the storm was over, and ventured under the
great yew-tree?"

It was Mrs. Verner who spoke. She looked at the different gentlemen
present, and they looked at her. They did not know what she meant.

"You _were_ under it, one of you," persisted Sibylla.

All, save one, protested that they had neither been out nor under the
tree. That one--it happened to be Mr. Gordon, of whom casual mention has
been made--confessed to having been on the lawn, so far as crossing it
went; but he did not go near the tree.

"I went out with my cigar," he observed, "and had strolled some distance
from the house when the storm came on. I stood in the middle of a field
and watched it. It was grandly beautiful."

"I wonder you were not brought home dead!" ejaculated Sibylla.

Mr. Gordon laughed. "If you once witnessed the thunder-storms that we
get in the tropics, Mrs. Verner, you would not associate these with
danger."

"I have seen dreadful thunder-storms, apart from what we get here, as
well as you, Mr. Gordon," returned Sibylla.

"Perhaps you will deny that anybody's ever killed by them in this
country. But why did you halt underneath the yew-tree?"

"I did not," he repeated. "I crossed the lawn, straight on to the upper
end of the terrace. I did not go near the tree."

"Some one did, if you did not. They were staring right up at my
dressing-room window. I was standing at it with Mr. Verner."

Mr. Gordon shook his head. "Not guilty, so far as I am concerned, Mrs.
Verner. I met some man, when I was coming home, plunging into the
thicket of trees as I emerged from them. It was he, possibly."

"What man?" questioned Sibylla.

"I did not know him. He was a stranger. A tall, dark man with stooping
shoulders, and something black upon his cheek."

"Something black upon his cheek;" repeated Sibylla, thinking the words
bore an odd sound.

"A la