n physical weakness, he
would have been an ornament to the diplomatic service. Alas, that there
must always be a "but" in the way of our moral completeness, our
physical perfection and our life's success.

Days and weeks passed on, and the household of Wardour remained in
utmost quiet; that at Mapleton, shrouded in gloom and sorrowful
seclusion. Mrs. Lamotte saw no one. Mr. Lamotte went out only to look
after his business interests.

When the copy of Sybil's marriage certificate came, Frank, like a loyal
knight, came to Constance with the news, told it with a sad countenance
and in few words, and went away soon and sorrowfully.

One day, not long after, Mrs. Aliston returned from the town where she
had spent four long hours in calling upon the wives of the Episcopalian,
the Unitarian and the Presbyterian ministers, for Mrs. Aliston was a
liberal soul, and hurled herself into Constance's favorite sitting room,
in a state of unusual excitement.

"Well, Con.," she panted, pulling hard the while at her squeezed on
gloves, "I've found it out;" and she dropped into the easiest chair, and
pulled and panted afresh.

Constance looked up from a rather uninteresting "Novel with a Moral,"
and asked, as indifferently as possible:

"What have you found out, auntie?"

"About Sybil."

Constance laid down her book, and her tone underwent a change.

"If it's any thing more than gossip, auntie, tell me quick."

"Oh, it isn't gossip; at least they all say it's true. And as for
gossip, Con., I tell you, you have done something toward stopping that."

Con. laughed like one who is conscious of her power.

"Yes, indeed," rattled on Mrs. Aliston. "Mrs. Wooster says, and if she
_is_ a Unitarian she is certainly a very good and truthful woman, that
she has heard from various ones that you have openly declared against
the handling of poor Sybil's name among the people who have called
themselves her friends, and accepted so often her mother's hospitality.
And she said--these are her very words, Con.--'I was delighted, dear
Mrs. Aliston, for we all know that these gossip lovers, every one of
them, will deny themselves the luxury of tearing Sybil to pieces,
knowing that she has a champion in Miss Wardour.' So much for influence,
Con."

"Bah!" retorted Con., wise in her generation. "So much for money, and
how do I know that I have not lost my prestige along with my diamonds.
Auntie, you have lost the thread of your discourse; you alway