e of
daily exercise in the fresh air of the grounds, and her health had
gained so much, her harmless hallucination began to take a pleasing and
favorable turn.

She now knew that she was going to be a mother; and she fancied that she
was staying at some pleasant place of summer resort for the benefit of
her health, and that Beatrix Pendleton was also one of the guests of the
house; and that Lyon Berners was only an occasional visitor because the
duties of his profession confined him the greater part of the time at
Blackville.

It happened one morning, when Sybil was taking her usual exercise in the
garden, attended by her husband and her friend, she suddenly turned to
Mr. Berners and said:

"Lyon dear, I want to see Tabby and Joe. The next time you come to see
me, I wish you would bring them with you."

"I will do so, dear Sybil. Is there any one else you would like to see?"
inquired her husband, who deemed now that, with proper precautions, her
friends from Blackville might be permitted to see her.

"No, no one else particularly," she answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Why, yes, Lyon, dear; I am sure I do not care to see anybody else
especially. Why, who is there indeed, that I should care for at Black
Hall, except my own faithful servants?" she asked, a little impatiently.
She had never once, since her imprisonment, mentioned the name of
Raphael or little Cromartie. She had apparently forgotten them, as well
as all other persons and circumstances immediately connected with the
tragedy at Black Hall and the trial at Blackville.

And Mr. Berners would not venture to remind her of their existence.

"Very well, dearest, I will bring your friends to see you to-morrow,"
said Mr. Berners soothingly.

CHAPTER XXII.

HOPE.

One precious pearl, in sorrow's cup,
Unmelted at the bottom lay.
To shine again when, all drunk up,
The bitterness should pass away.--MOORE.

But if Sybil in the chaos of her mind, had lost all memory of her two
proteges, _they_ had not for a moment forgotten her.

Raphael, who was perfectly well aware of Sybil's situation, was breaking
his heart at Black Hall. And every morning when little Cro' was set up
in his high chair beside Mrs. Berners' vacant place at the head of the
breakfast table, he would ask piteously:

"If 'Sybil-mamma,' was coming home to-day?" And every morning he would
be answered, evasively:

"May be, to-day or to-morrow."

The day succeeding