adeleine herself had supposed. She could
not even see where her own interest lay. She knew no more about Mr.
Ratcliffe and the West than if he were the giant of a fairy-story, and
lived at the top of a bean-stalk. She must be treated as a child; with
gentleness, affection, forbearance, but with firmness and decision. She
must be refused what she asked, for her own good.

Thus it came about that at last Mrs. Lee spoke, with an appearance of
decision far from representing her internal tremor.

"Sybil, dear, I have made up my mind to marry Mr. Ratcliffe because
there is no other way of making every one happy. You need not be afraid
of him. He is kind and generous. Besides, I can take care of myself; and
I will take care of you too. Now let us not discuss it any more. It is
broad daylight, and we are both tired out."

Sybil grew at once perfectly calm, and standing before her sister, as
though their roles were henceforward to be reversed, said:

"You have really made up your mind, then? Nothing I can say will change
it?"

Mrs. Lee, looking at her with more surprise than ever, could not force
herself to speak; but she shook her head slowly and decidedly.

"Then," said Sybil, "there is only one thing more I can do. You must
read this!" and she drew out Carrington's letter, which she held before
Madeleine's face.

"Not now, Sybil!" remonstrated Mrs. Lee, dreading another long struggle.
"I will read it after we have had some rest. Go to bed now!"

"I do not leave this room, nor will I ever go to bed until you have read
that letter," answered Sybil, seating herself again before the fire
with the resolution of Queen Elizabeth; "not if I sit here till you are
married. I promised Mr. Carrington that you should read it
instantly; it's all I can do now." With a sigh, Mrs. Lee drew up the
window-curtain, and in the gray morning light sat down to break the seal
and read the following letter:--

"Washington, 2nd April.

"My dear Mrs. Lee,

"This letter will only come into your hands in case
there should be a necessity for your knowing its contents. Nothing short
of necessity would excuse my writing it. I have to ask your pardon for
intruding again upon your private affairs. In this case, if I did not
intrude, you would have cause for serious complaint against me.

"You asked me the other day whether I knew anything against Mr.
Ratcliffe which the world did not know, to account for my low opinion of
his character. I evaded