ally unconscious of having done a wrong, or inflicted a
wound. And now his manner to his wife was as tender, loving, and devoted
as it had ever been since their marriage. His very first words showed
this. On entering the room and closing the door, he suddenly threw his
arms around her, and clasped her to his bosom as a recovered treasure,
exclaiming:

"Now, my darling, we are alone together once more, with no one to divide
us."

"Thank Heaven!" breathed Sybil with all her heart; and her jealousy was
lulled to rest again by the kisses that he pressed on her lips. She said
to herself that all his devotion to Rosa Blondelle in the stage-coach
was but the proper courtesy of a gentleman to a lady guest, who was,
besides, a stranger in the country; and that she, his wife, ought to
admire, rather than to blame him for it--ought to be pleased, rather
than pained by it.

Very early the next morning the travellers arose, in order to take the
earliest coach, which, having left Norfolk at sunset, would reach
Underhill at sunrise.

Poor, ardent, impulsive Sybil! She had passed a very happy night; and
this morning she met her guest with a gush of genuine affection,
embracing and kissing her and her child, making them even more welcome
than she had done before, and feeling that to-day she could not deal too
kindly by Rosa, to atone for having yesterday thought so hardly of her.

Under these pleasant auspices the travellers sat down to an excellent
breakfast.

But the warning horn blew, and they prepared to resume their journey.

On entering the coach, they found the other passengers, three in number,
already on the back seat. But they were gentlemen, who voluntarily and
promptly gave up their seats to the two ladies and their escort. The
coach started.

Their route now lay through some of the wildest passes of the Blue
Ridge. And here the enthusiasm of Rosa Blondelle burst forth. She said
that she had seen grand mountains in Scotland, but nothing--no, nothing
to equal these in grandeur and beauty!

And Lyon Berners smiled to hear her speak so, as one might smile at the
extravagant delight of a child, for as a child this lovely stranger
often seemed to him and to others. And she, with her sweet, blue eyes,
smiled back to him.

And Sybil looked and listened, and felt again that strange wound
deepening in her heart--that strange cloud darkening over her mind.

CHAPTER VIII.